She shivered involuntarily as Don Xavier’s black stare licked over her. Her almost naked body was eager for more of his attention. Thankfully, she had more sense.
‘My PA will be in touch,’ he said coolly. ‘Once I’ve had a chance to inspect both the island and the hacienda, you will be invited to the mainland for a meeting, where we will discuss terms.’
What terms? When did she agree to this?
His dismissive gesture now suggested that it would be more convenient still if he could brush her under the table along with everything else he found superfluous in his life. She had no intention of going to the mainland for a meeting. His terms? His territory? She might be young, but she wasn’t stupid.
‘I’m not sure that will be convenient for me,’ she said bluntly. ‘And, as far as I’m aware, we have nothing to discuss. The terms of the will are quite clear.’
His expression blackened to a frightening degree. This was a man who wasn’t used to anyone disagreeing with him, she gathered.
‘Are you marooned on the island?’ he thundered.
‘No, but I have a lot on.’
‘Such as?’ he derided. ‘You’ve no funds—no income.’
‘I can accomplish a lot with hard work and no money,’ she argued. ‘And just because I’ve been turned down by lenders to date, doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I don’t think your aunt would give up. And I don’t think Doña Anna would leave me half this island unless she was confident I could sort things out.’
‘Your intention is to help the islanders market their organic produce, I believe?’
He was well informed. ‘Why not?’ She might as well put her stake in the ground now.
Maybe it would be better to soften her attitude and try to engage his support? Her main goal was to help the islanders, not herself, and if she didn’t control her feelings—feelings she usually had no trouble controlling—the next deputation to the island might include Don Xavier’s legal team.
Correct. And she couldn’t risk that. She had no funds to fight him. It was time to swallow her pride and make him feel welcome. Maybe if they worked at it they could find a solution together. She was no good at dressing things up, so she just said the first thing that came into her head. ‘If you come back tomorrow I’ll make you some ice cream.’
The look he gave her suggested she might as well have invited him to join her in a bondage session, complete with whips and masks.
‘Three o’clock tomorrow,’ he rapped. ‘And no ice cream.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Rosie’s heart was pounding with anticipation as she waited for Don Xavier to arrive. He might be cold and arrogant, but she was thrilled at the thought of seeing him again. She didn’t have much excitement in her life, but she’d always been a dreamer. And today Don Xavier was playing the starring role. Maybe it was his need for an heir that had stirred her imagination. How was he going to get one? The usual way, obviously—but with whom? He probably had hordes of glamorous girlfriends, but she couldn’t imagine him settling down.
In honour of his visit she was wearing her one good dress. She’d bought it in a thrift shop with the small allowance she’d received from the prince’s charity. The money was supposed to help her to prepare for her first placement. She’d spent most of it on books to help her understand the needs of the elderly, and the rest on ice cream as she worried about whether or not she’d be up to the job.
The dress was yellow, with a floating cotton skirt and fitted top. The colour didn’t do much for her freckled complexion and it clashed with her flaming red hair, but there hadn’t been much choice in her size. It was old-fashioned, but had seemed to Rosie’s untrained eye to be the type of dress that wouldn’t alarm an elderly lady searching for a discreet companion. Predictably, Doña Anna had hated it, calling it Rosie’s custard dress, but Rosie still thought it was pretty and low-key.
She stared out of the kitchen window, wondering if Don Xavier had changed his mind. Maybe his people would arrive instead, and try to drive her away. Her pulse raced with anger at the thought. He’d better come back and face her.
So far the sea was placid blue, and decidedly empty. There was no sleek black launch approaching, and no impossibly good-looking Spanish visitor powering through the waves towards her. But she was ready for whatever came next. She had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and was satisfied that it had never looked better. He couldn’t fail to be impressed. She had always longed for a house of her own to care for, and saw the work as a privilege rather than drudgery. And she would gladly kick her pride into touch if she could persuade him to give her a loan to help the islanders launch their plan to market their produce worldwide.
The more she reflected on this, the more she wondered about Doña Anna’s intentions when she drew up her will. Was this one last attempt to save Don Xavier from his empty, meaningless life? Or was that Rosie being romantic again? In her view, all the money in the world couldn’t buy the love and support of a family, and, if Don Xavier had only known it, Doña Anna had been waiting to welcome him back into her family home with open arms.
Brushing her hair away from her face, Rosie pulled away from the window. It looked as if he wasn’t coming. Her gaze lingered on the flowers she’d cut fresh from the garden that morning... Iceberg roses: pure white and lightly scented. The full, fat blooms thrived in clusters, just like the best families, she mused, smiling at the analogy. Not that she was an expert on either families or roses. The reason she loved the roses was for the way they thrust their scented heads so proudly above the weeds she hadn’t got round to pulling out yet. There were so many things on the island worth preserving.
Isla Del Rey had bewitched Rosie from the moment she’d stepped onshore. She had been instantly dazzled by the island’s beauty. It was so warm and sunny after the dreary cold of the city-centre orphanage where she’d grown up. There were sugar-sand beaches and vibrant colours everywhere, instead of unrelieved grey. And so much space and clean air to breathe. She had left a grimy city behind, and with it the restrictions of the orphanage. On the island, for the very first time in her life, she’d felt free. Best of all, she loved the people for the way they smiled and waved at her, as if they wanted to welcome her to their beautiful island home. Their cause had been her cause ever since.
Perhaps the biggest treat of all when she’d arrived had been the discovery that she would have a room to herself. And it was such a beautiful room. Light and spacious, Rosie’s new bedroom overlooked the ocean, which was like a dream come true. Another favourite place in the hacienda was the library, where Doña Anna had encouraged Rosie to read any book she liked. That was when Rosie had suggested reading to the old lady. From that day on they had shared many adventures together, and, even if those adventures were confined to the pages of a book, Rosie credited storytelling with bringing them closer.
The varying tales had prompted Doña Anna to reveal so many episodes from her life. Rosie’s experience of love and life had been practically zero up to then, but reading to Doña Anna had awoken in her a love for family, and a longing for the type of romance she was reading about in books. Love grew between the two of them during these regular sessions in the library. It made Rosie long for children of her own, so she could tell them about Doña Anna, and keep the memory of a very special woman alive. Her dream was that her children would pass on that memory to their children, so they would understand how lives could be turned around if just one person cared enough to make a difference.
When Doña Anna asked Rosie to stay on, making what was originally supposed to be a temporary position as housekeeper/companion permanent, it was the happiest day of her life. And the easiest decision she’d ever had to make, Rosie remembered. Doña Anna was the mother figure she’d never known. She loved the old lady for her prickly kindness, and for her generous heart.
She would always love her, Rosie reflected as she glanced at her wristwatch and frowned for the umpteenth time.
* * *
He gl
anced at the clock and ground his jaw. He had never been so impatient to get away from a meeting before, but he was itching to get back to the island.
And whose fault was that?
A pale, determined face, framed by a fiery cloud of shimmering red hair, came to mind. He resolutely blanked it. The last thing he needed was for the basest form of primal instinct to colour his renowned detachment.
And then there was Isla Del Rey, and his conflicting memories of the island, to further muddy the water. While ideas were batted between his team, he thought back. As a youth he had loathed the island for its restrictions. As a boy, he had associated the place with loneliness and disappointment, which was only made bearable thanks to the intervention of his aunt.
In fairness to his parents, they had never professed to love him. They never tired of telling him that he was both an accident and an inconvenience. Hope that they would one day learn to love him had taken a long time to die. He’d come home from school full of excitement at the thought of seeing them again, only to find them ready to leave as he arrived. Or they would promise to come and not turn up at all.
One day his mother told him to his face that everything he touched turned to dust. She’d been a beauty before he was born, loved by his father and feted by the world, but now, thanks to her son, Xavier, she was nothing. He had destroyed her. And when his seven-year-old self had begged her not to say such things, clinging to her hand as she left the room, she had shaken him off with disgust, and then laughed in his face when he’d started crying. No wonder he’d steered clear of romantic entanglements. He’d seen where they led.
Doña Anna had stepped into the breach, raising him, and encouraging him to make the best of the island—to swim around it, and to sail around it—and he’d enjoyed his first love affair on the beach. But though his aunt had told him on numerous occasions that his mother’s words were just the emotional outpourings of a troubled woman, those ugly words still rang in his head. He wasn’t capable of love. He was a jinx, a misfortune. He destroyed love—
He turned as Margaret, his second in command, coughed discreetly to attract his attention. ‘You want these plans acted upon right away, Xavier?’
‘That’s right,’ he confirmed.
She knew he’d been remembering. Margaret had an uncanny knack of sensing when he was wrestling the demons from the past.
‘And you want that done before you attempt a satisfactory settlement with Rosie Clifton?’
‘Do you doubt I’ll reach a settlement with the girl?’
Everyone but Margaret laughed at his remark. Margaret had read the will, so she knew he had to produce an heir. Two years was no time at all, she’d told him with concern written all over her face. What was he supposed to do? Pluck one out of thin air? The thought of breeding with one of the women he customarily dated held no appeal at all.
‘I think this is a tricky situation of a type we haven’t encountered before,’ Margaret now commented thoughtfully.
Tricky was the understatement of the year.
‘If you mean Ms Clifton fires on emotion, while I work solely with the facts, then you’re probably right,’ he conceded. ‘But surely, that guarantees a satisfactory outcome for our side?’
Whether Margaret agreed or not, he would go ahead with his plans. Who was going to stand in his way? Not Rosie Clifton, that was for sure—
Rosie Clifton...
He couldn’t get her out of his head. Just her name was enough to set his senses raging. He suspected that beneath her composure Señorita Clifton could whip up quite a storm...
‘I’ve never known you to be so distracted at a meeting,’ Margaret commented discreetly.
He noticed everyone was leaving the room, while he had been thinking about Rosie Clifton. He was glad there was an air of excitement. His team was like a pack of greyhounds in the traps, eager to chase up every detail in his plan.
‘You’re right,’ he agreed, standing to hold Margaret’s chair. ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind.’
Women had always been ornaments in the past, to be enjoyed and briefly admired. He had never thought of them as potential mothers to any children he might have. He’d never thought of having children, or settling down. Life had kicked that notion out of him. His best plan was to make Rosie Clifton an offer for her half of the island that she couldn’t possibly refuse.
She might refuse.
There was that possibility, he conceded now he’d met her. The figure he had in mind was substantial, but would she take it? She was an idealist with her own plans for the island. She knew his reputation for taking wasteland and transforming it into a site of unparalleled luxury, but to Rosie every inch of that island held magic and potential—and not for a six-star hotel.
‘Xavier...’
‘Yes, Margaret?’ He would trust this woman with his life. She was the only woman he would trust with his fortune. Margaret was his fifty-four-year-old financial director, an accountant with a steel-trap mind who could run circles around every bean counter he knew. It was thanks to Margaret that he could take time away from the business. As a judge of people she had no equal. What would Margaret make of Señorita Clifton? he wondered.
‘I knew the meeting might run over,’ she said as he held the door for her, ‘and so I took the liberty of ordering the chopper to be fuelled and ready for you. You can leave at once.’
Margaret’s second talent was for reading his mind. His mood lifted, and he smiled at her decadent English vowels. Years of drilling in a strict UK boarding school accounted for the precision of her accent, Margaret had once told him. He didn’t care. He’d forgive her anything. She was the one woman in his life who had never disappointed him. Nodding briefly, he smiled his thanks and then they both went their separate ways.
* * *
It was late afternoon. Rosie was sitting on the beach, staring out to sea as she dabbled her feet in the water. She kept telling herself she knew Don Xavier wouldn’t come.
She should be relieved he wasn’t coming. She wasn’t relieved. Part of her wanted to get their business over with as fast as she could, while another, far less worthy part of her just wanted to see him again. Her best guess was that he couldn’t admit—not even to himself—that the island still meant something to him, and so he had decided to stay away. She got that. She had difficulty with emotions, having hidden hers for years. She would have been laughed at when she lived at the orphanage if she had given away even a hint of her romantic dreams, but that had never stopped her dreaming. In fact, sometimes, she thought she was overburdened with dreams, but they had never turned her into a block of ice like Don Xavier.
Almost six o’clock! The day was flying away. It was time to go back to the house. The glaring light of a sultry Spanish afternoon was fast burning out to burnished gold. The sunset promised to be spectacular, which was the only thing holding her on the beach. The sky was an intense, almost metallic blue, while the first signs of dusk were appearing on the horizon in random drifts of fluffy pink clouds. The sea was so smooth it looked like a skating rink, as if the waves, having exerted themselves all day, couldn’t be bothered to crash on the shore, so they were creeping up it instead. She scrunched her toes in the wet sand, loving the sensation as she allowed the rhythmical sound of the waves to flitter across her eardrums. Even that wasn’t soothing. Her irritation about the missing guest was stronger. Don Xavier seemed to find it easy to walk away from things and she’d been looking forward to another verbal sparring match with him. They had to get together if they were going to sort out the future of the island, and they should do that as soon as possible. They had a duty to the islanders.
She had wanted a chance to make him understand how much she cared for the island, and how lucky she felt to have been given the chance to live here. Helping the islanders was just her way of thanking them for their kindness towards her. Her dream was to share the island one day with other young people who’d had no advantages in life. She guessed that would have to wait, as her tin
y pot of money would run out soon—
A sound distracted her. She couldn’t identify it at first. Then she realised it was the sound of rotor blades approaching fast. As she sprang to her feet a gleaming black craft appeared over the cliff at the far end of the bay. She remained motionless as it wheeled onto its side, at what appeared to her to be an impossibly acute angle.
She exhaled with relief when it levelled off to skim the surface of the sea, driving up spumes of water in glittering clouds. It kept on coming towards her, and only wheeled away at the very last minute. Rising rapidly, it banked steeply before turning inland. The pilot seemed to be flying on the edge of what was possible.
So it could only be one man, Rosie reasoned. Who else would take such risks with his life and company property?
And she shouldn’t be here on the beach daydreaming, but up at the house ready to greet him—or to hold him off!
To hell with greeting him! She should be up at the house to establish her right to call the hacienda home—the only home she’d ever known. More importantly, the hacienda had meant everything to Doña Anna, and no patronising, nose-in-the-air grandee was going to bulldoze it, to build yet another of his glitzy hotels. Kicking off her flip-flops, she began to run.
Rosie scrambled up the cliff path as if the hounds of hell were after her, and she didn’t stop until she reached the boundary to the property—a fence she hadn’t realised was quite so broken down. She picked her way carefully through the broken struts of a barrier that was supposed to divide a once beautiful formal garden from the glorious wilderness. As of now, it was all glorious wilderness, she saw with concern.
Imagining Don Xavier seeing the same thing made Rosie wince. She’d known things were bad, but not this bad. She’d meant to do something about the garden, but had no money to pay a gardener, and there was so much to do inside the house. Any spare time she had was spent researching grants and subsidies for the islanders, to help them get their plans for marketing their organic produce off the ground.
A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Page 3
