In the Brazilian's Debt

by Susan Stephens

  * * *

  The Rottingdean Experience was an even bigger success than Lizzie had envisaged. Money poured in. And though these were only small amounts compared to the debt owed, the buckets full of coins and small-value notes represented the pride of the estate to her. The hall where the auction was to be held was full to capacity, and it seemed that everything was going smoothly, until the auctioneer called to say he was indisposed, and there was no one else available to take the sale.

  Lizzie faltered—but only for a few seconds. There was someone who could take the sale, she determined.

  She dressed up and put on her high-heeled shoes. An auctioneer had to show a bold face to the world, and not seem defeated, and she was nowhere near finished yet.

  ‘Who knows these items better than I do?’ she asked the group of representatives from the various institutions with an interest in the outcome of the sale. ‘And devils can’t be choosers,’ she pointed out.

  And so it was agreed. Lizzie would take the auction.

  ‘My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,’ she began in a firm, upbeat voice, standing on the rostrum where everyone could see her. ‘Today we are holding a very unusual and special sale where many of these items have been in the Fane family for centuries, so I hope you all have your funds in place, because I know you’re all going to want to spend lots of money.’

  A ripple of good-humoured laughter opened the proceedings, and from there the sale flew along at a rate of knots.

  * * *

  He remained in the background as Lizzie took the sale. He had his people planted in the crowd. Several more were online, and there were a couple on the telephone. He had this sale wrapped up. The bright light that had first attracted him to Lizzie when she was little more than a child was blazing strongly today. Far from being beaten by circumstance, she had this crowd eating out of her hand. As he looked around he noticed that the faces of the staff at Rottingdean had the same zeal as Lizzie’s written all over them, yet they were watching her part with what had to be a lifetime of memories for them. They all had true Scottish grit. Nothing was going to get them down. With their life in ruins they had come into their own, because of one petite figure wielding her will as well as her gavel, a tiny woman who was a giant when it came to courage and vision, and getting things done.

  A thunderbolt struck him, or maybe it had struck on the day Lizzie walked back into his life. She was the only woman he wanted, and he would do anything it took to persuade her to come back with him to Brazil. But would she ever leave Rottingdean? Would she even trust him enough to let him try to win her back?

  Trust had been an issue for both of them, he reflected as he watched Lizzie run the sale with precision and calm assurance, but he had to hope that lack of trust was behind her now, as it was behind him. There were some prizes worth fighting for, and he could be as determined as Lizzie when it came to achieving his goal.

  * * *

  Lizzie drew a deep breath. ‘And now the final lot.’ She paused for effect and, more than that, to calm herself. She couldn’t afford to let her voice shake now. ‘Rottingdean House, ladies and gentlemen. This beautiful home you’re standing in now—’

  There was an uncomfortable silence, and then one of the representatives from the bank came to the foot of the rostrum to whisper something.

  Lizzie felt cheated. She felt as if the auction would have given her time to mourn the loss of her childhood home, and now there was no time.

  ‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen—I have just learned that a sale has been agreed prior to this auction, so, for today, this auction is over.’

  That was it? Lizzie thought, feeling unsteady as she climbed down from the rostrum. How quickly the sale had gone. A lifetime sold off in a matter of minutes—several lifetimes, she reflected, thinking of the ancestors who had lived at Rottingdean before her. How she got down those few rickety wooden steps, she would never know. She was reminded of the first time she’d been put on a pony and had looked for railings to hang onto, only to find there were none. As in life, she reflected wryly. She was on her own now, and had to plan accordingly.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Lizzie.’

  ‘Yes?’ She smiled at the representative from the bank. She bore him no grudges. What was the point when he was only doing his job?

  ‘Should I call you Lady Elizabeth?’ he said, blushing bright red.

  ‘Definitely not,’ she reassured him. ‘Lizzie’s fine.’ She didn’t want anyone calling her Lady Elizabeth Fane when she hadn’t earned the title. It was just an accident of birth. And there was something else, Lizzie thought as her mouth quirked with amusement. Maybe she was delirious with sadness, and weary with disappointment, but all she could think about was being in bed with Chico—so she might be wearing high-heeled shoes, but she could state categorically that she was no lady.

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’ she said pleasantly, seeing the man from the bank was still hovering.

  ‘The new owner would like to see you,’ he explained.

  ‘The new owner?’ She looked around. It couldn’t be Chico, Lizzie reasoned, because Chico would have made himself known. She hadn’t heard from him for three days now. When she spoke to his PA she presumed Chico was back in Brazil. It was the student graduation in a few days, and he would never miss that.

  ‘He’s in your grandmother’s study.’

  ‘Oh, is he?’ Lizzie felt her temper rising, and knew that had more to do with Chico than any slight inflicted by this new owner. ‘He couldn’t wait to get his feet under the table, I suppose.’ She left the man from the bank staring after her anxiously.

  She knew the moment she reached the door what she would find behind it.

  ‘Chico,’ she said as she walked in. She tried to maintain a calm demeanour, but after being in a room full of sun-starved individuals, dressed in muted heather tones, seeing Chico in all his piratical splendour was quite a shock. He was dressed all in black: black shirt, black jacket, black trousers, with his wild black hair barely tamed for the occasion. He looked as if he had just stepped from the centrefold of a polo magazine. He was quite simply the most bronzed, bold, and beautiful man she had ever seen. Right now, his only flaw, as far as she could tell, was the expression on his face, which was knowing and even faintly amused. He looked every bit the conquering hero. He towered over her, all-powerful, and completely in command, but she refused to be intimidated. At least he’d had the good grace not to sit behind her grandmother’s desk, but had chosen to stand by the window overlooking the lake, from where he was regarding her now.

  ‘Lizzie...’

  ‘So, you’re the new owner.’

  She felt a chill come over her as Chico inclined his head, and remembered her father’s words: Revenge is a dish best served cold. A sudden spear of dread pierced her as the doubts set in. Was that what this was all about? Was Chico revenging himself for her parents’ crimes? He had certainly controlled the sale, she realised now, just as Chico controlled everything else in his life. He did that with his iron will and his bottomless pit of money, so, whatever she had tried to do, the outcome for Rottingdean House was always going to be the same.

  ‘Revenge is a cruel taskmaster, Chico,’ she murmured as they locked eyes.

  ‘Revenge,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘I really hadn’t seen it that way, Lizzie.’ There was something in his eyes that called her doubts foolish. ‘I see coming back here as a long-awaited dream.’ There was a long silence, and then he added, ‘I can still remember the thrill of being invited to the big house. I was quite happy bedding down in the stables while the Brazilian polo team was given comfortable rooms in the house—I was always happiest with the horses, and a bit awkward in company.’

  ‘I remember,’ Lizzie murmured, drawn back to that time.

  ‘I should have stayed in the stables. I was safe there, had I but known i
t at the time.’

  ‘Go on,’ she urged softly, sensing Chico had an important memory to share when he fell silent.

  ‘Eduardo had planned to go into town with your grandmother to get her view on a classic car that he was thinking of buying and shipping back to Brazil, and he was going to take your grandmother to dinner afterwards, to thank her for her time, while I remained with the grooms. Imagine my astonishment when I received an invitation via your mother’s personal maid to attend a soirée with Lord and Lady Fane. I had no idea what a soirée was, and imagined it was some sort of tea party. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to eat a formal dinner, because Eduardo was still teaching me which cutlery to use.’ He paused. ‘It all sounds so silly now, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Not to me,’ Lizzie argued.

  ‘It was a party of sorts,’ he said dryly. ‘I was lucky to get out with my life.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Lizzie agreed as they both thought back.

  ‘I was so young—such a fool. I had no idea that at this type of party dress was optional, or that drink and drugs were mandatory, along with a host of pretty young boys and girls just over the age of consent. I didn’t realise that money was changing hands either, or that I was supposed to be the star turn. I didn’t realise how strait-laced I was until I walked into that room and witnessed the “performance”, as Serena described it, which was well under way by the time I arrived—youth-on-youth, girl-on-girl, and every other variation on a theme—all free to view in a tangle of naked limbs on a bed decked out with black satin sheets, to a soundtrack of moans and hard metal.’

  ‘You and me next,’ Serena had purred in his ear as she tottered about in her ridiculously high heels and marabou-trimmed negligee. With one hand she had reached for a drink from the tray the naked butler was holding, while she used her other hand to attempt to grope Chico through his pants. ‘I’ve been saving myself for you,’ she had informed him seductively.

  ‘What did you say to my mother?’ Lizzie asked, jolting him out of these thoughts.

  ‘I think not,’ he explained, which made Lizzie laugh.

  ‘And then you backed your way out of the door as quickly as you could?’

  ‘You guessed,’ he said, omitting to tell Lizzie that her mother’s expression had hardened as she’d regarded him coldly.

  ‘This isn’t a free choice, Chico,’ Serena had informed him. ‘You’re a groom here at Rottingdean, and as such you’re a servant who will do as you are told.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, my lady,’ he’d replied. Being innocent of such things back then, he had no doubt that his eyes had been wide as saucers.

  ‘You will be afraid if you don’t do exactly as I say,’ Serena had promised. ‘You’ve seen too much, so if you leave now I’ll say you raped me—and I have at least twenty witnesses to back me up.’

  At that point he’d noticed Lord Fane for the first time. The grand aristocrat had been seated in a chair that looked something like a throne, with a naked girl kneeling at his feet. As their eyes had met across a scene more reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah than the respectable stately home Chico had thought he was staying in, the expression in Lizzie’s father’s eyes had assured him that what Serena said Serena would make good on, and that Lizzie’s father would have no hesitation in backing her mother up.

  She suspected there might be more Chico could tell her, but was holding back, because it would damn her parents, rather than Chico, and the last thing Chico wanted was to hurt her. The idea of her mother hitting on Chico when he had expected so much more of the aristocracy sickened her. She was determined to get right to the bottom of it now. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked him bluntly. ‘Anything you’re not telling me. You might as well get it all out now. Remember what I told you—I’m not that same girl now, and we trust each other, don’t we?’

  ‘What do you want me to tell you? I was naïve.’

  ‘And I was fifteen,’ she countered.

  ‘I had no excuse,’ Chico insisted, still determined to beat himself up. ‘I grew up in the barrio—I saw my brother killed in front of me—I had a father in jail and a mother on the game, and still I came here to the Highlands, and allowed myself to be seduced by the beauty of the countryside, and the kindness of the people, and I failed entirely to see the same rot in this grand old house that had existed in my tin shack.’

  ‘Only because you expected so much more of us,’ Lizzie argued, ‘and in the end we’re just people. It doesn’t matter where we come from. We’re all human beings—some flawed, some not. I’m only sorry that, having escaped the gutter, you found yourself here, mired in another type of filth. I’ve been surrounded by lies all my life, Chico. Tell me we’re not going to lie to each other now.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he agreed, ‘except for one thing. I don’t regret coming here with Eduardo. If I hadn’t come here, we wouldn’t have met.’ His lips curved in a smile and then, seeing her expression, he turned serious again. ‘Are you still worried about me buying the estate?’

  Lizzie thought for a moment, and then said honestly, ‘I can’t deny it will take some getting used to—and I’m not sure where it’s going to leave the people who work here, and that’s what concerns me.’

  ‘It will leave them exactly where they’ve always been. This will be my tribute to a very special lady—your grandmother. I think she would be very pleased to know that more children from the slums will be coming here as I did.’

  ‘So that’s your plan?’ Lizzie exclaimed.

  ‘What did you think?’

  ‘I don’t know what I thought,’ she admitted, shaking her head. ‘But this is such a surprise—a wonderful surprise.’

  ‘I’ve bought the house and everything in it, so you can work with me. Or you can stand in my way, if you prefer, though I wouldn’t advise it,’ Chico said wryly. ‘When I’m set on a plan, I always carry it through.’

  He wanted them to work together? It was an extraordinary, far-sighted plan, but what could she offer the children? She didn’t have a diploma, let alone a peg to hang her hat. Were the children supposed to wait until she resolved those issues?

  ‘Could I live here?’

  ‘I would hope so,’ Chico confirmed. ‘Where are you going now?’ he demanded, coming to stand in her way.

  ‘I have to think about this. I need to get back on my feet again first.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘You do. And?’

  ‘That means ploughing my own furrow, not walking in yours.’

  ‘But you’re a crucial part of my plan, Lizzie. I won’t let you go so easily this time.’

  ‘You can’t stop me,’ she said in her most reasonable tone.

  Chico’s black eyes changed. She knew that look. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned him. ‘If you kiss me, I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll what?’ Grabbing her close, he cupped her chin and made her look at him.

  Lizzie felt so good in his arms, he had to close his eyes for a moment so he could absorb just how good. She was like every Christmas gift come at once—better even than he remembered.

  ‘You barbarian,’ she flashed when he pulled back. ‘How dare you come in here and kiss me?’

  ‘How dare I? Really?’ His lips tugged with amusement, which only made her madder than before. Her eyes turned black, her lips were swollen, and her nipples thrust imperatively against the fine lace of her bra. ‘I might ride to your rescue occasionally, but I’m no saint.’

  Before she had a chance to argue with him, he drove his mouth down on hers, claiming the last thing that interested him at Rottingdean. And then, with a fierce sound of hunger and need, she laced her fingers through his hair to keep him close.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HE HAD NEVER experienced such a rush of desire before. This was a kiss like no other; an embrace he doubted either of them would ever f
orget. It was as if all the forces of nature had come together to bind them close. They could argue all they liked, but the fates would not allow them to defy their destiny. When he finally released her, Lizzie’s face was flushed to show that the blood was pumping fiercely through her veins. But it wasn’t just lust driving her.

  ‘You can’t have everything at Rottingdean, Chico,’ she told him. ‘You can’t buy me along with the Chippendale chairs.’

  ‘I don’t want to buy you,’ he fired back. ‘I don’t see you as one of the fixtures and fittings,’ and just as she was about to get started, he added, ‘but I don’t see why I can’t have you.’ And catching her close, he smiled down. ‘Why fight what we both want, Lizzie?’

  ‘I might want it,’ she argued angrily, ‘but I’ve got more sense.’

  ‘More sense than to do what?’ he challenged.

  ‘To love you,’ she blurted out, surprising him with her ferocity. ‘I’ve got more sense than to love you.’ With an angry huff, she turned her face away. ‘And now I’m going to check on the horses,’ she said gruffly, ‘and when I’ve done that, I’ll pack a bag and you’ll never have to see me again—’

  ‘Not so fast.’ He caught her close. ‘You’re not going to leave here, and desert everyone before you’ve even heard my plan?’

  ‘I no longer have a place here,’ she said proudly. ‘Rottingdean doesn’t belong to the Fane family. It belongs to you. The estate is no longer my responsibility.’

  ‘So, will you say goodbye to the staff on your way out?’ he demanded mildly.

  She made an angry, impatient sound in reply.

  ‘Would you mind moving away from the door, please?’

  ‘Yes, I’d mind,’ he assured her, standing firm. ‘Don’t tar me with the same brush as your parents, Lizzie. I’m not here to take anything. I’m here to give. I want to restore the estate so that everyone has the chance of a good future. I understand the uncertainty you’ve all been through, and I want to bring it to an end. I know you’re angry now, because this change of ownership has happened so fast, but don’t act on impulse. Stay and we can work miracles here.’