The Spaniard's Woman

by Diana Hamilton

  ‘Of course I have. Why wouldn’t I? Don’t domestic skivvies travel abroad where you come from?’

  ‘Frequently.’ Hiding a grin, he relaxed back in his chair, admiring the cool blue challenge in her fantastic eyes, the haughty angle of her delicately pointed chin. ‘So tell me about your travels.’

  Rosie huffed in a breath. Just because she’d gone and fallen in love with him that didn’t mean she had to take umbrage whenever she decided he was acting all superior! Let’s face it, he was superior to her in every way there was, she decided gloomily, and woodenly supplied, ‘Paris. On a school trip.’

  She hadn’t told her mother the excursion was being arranged.

  She had known there was no way it could be afforded. But the school secretary had written to the parents of all the pupils in her class and Mum, of course, had stated that she wasn’t to be left out. And had taken on an extra office cleaning contract. Her eyes misted and she could feel the all-too-familiar lump in her throat, and she couldn’t speak when Sebastian asked softly, ‘Didn’t you enjoy it?’

  Something had deeply saddened her. He hated to see it. Unlike most of the women he knew she was unable to hide her emotions. Radiant happiness at something as simple as a birthday greeting that had cost nothing to say or the gift of a purloined flower, carelessly given, raw grief over something unknown to him.

  Catching the mute misery in those brilliant sapphire eyes, he vowed that in the coming weeks he would know every single thing about her. It was important.

  As important as knowing that she had been capable of total, honest generosity when she had made him the gift of her body, openly revelling in the driven, selfish needs of his hands, his lips—Blank that! Right now!

  He cleared his throat sharply. He had to move this forward. And watched with deep compassion as she struggled for composure as their meal was put on the table.

  As soon as they were alone again he stated levelly, If you’re wondering why I asked, I have to return to Spain. I was planning to, in ten days or so. But now that the domestic arrangements at Troone have altered I’ll be bringing the date of my return forward. I want you to come with me.’

  A beat of total, shocked silence, ‘then, I couldn’t do that!’ Rosie reddened. Why would he want her to? It didn’t make any sense, unless—her heartbeats went haywire—unless he’d changed his mind about having sex with her again. The possibility was endlessly exhilarating but she had to resist the wicked temptation. A secret and definitely short-lived affair would damage her more than she already was!

  ‘You don’t have any option.’ Sebastian was right back in control, where he should have been all along. I have to be in Spain so you do, too. I might have made you pregnant, in case you’d forgotten,’ he tacked on drily, tasting the cottage pie, which was surprisingly good. I need to be sure, one way or the other. I’m not a man to duck out of my responsibilities. I need you where I can see you. I don’t want you panicking and disappearing.’

  Rosie wanted to fall through a hole in the floor and never be seen again. She put down the fork she had only just picked up before it dropped from her nerveless fingers. True, unlike her father, he took his responsibilities seriously. But did he have to be so matter-of-fact and deadpan about it? She felt deeply humiliated, a real nuisance. And what had she been thinking of? That he was suddenly finding the idea of having sex with her again utterly irresistible?

  As if!

  ‘Think of it as an expenses-paid holiday,’ he stated, supremely sure of himself—and thankfully unaware of what was churning round in her mind, Rosie thought, wondering how he could be so cool about a situation which was anything but.

  His gorgeous features might have been carved from stone for all the emotion they displayed. It would be easier if he told her she was a pain in the neck and blamed the whole mess on her.

  At least she could then have a stab at hating him, instead of fancying him rotten and praying for a miracle that would make him fall in love with her.

  Whatever he said in that detached, authoritative voice of his, no way would she go to Spain with him, demean herself by being dragged around like an unwanted piece of luggage that had to be watched over in case it turned into a time bomb!

  She could always excuse herself, right this minute, go to the loo, she thought wildly, and come back and tell him her period had started, goodbye and it’s been nice knowing you!

  She tightened her mouth to stop it wobbling in plain panic and wild indecision and Sebastian told her flatly, ‘We’ll stay at my mother’s home just outside Jerez. You’ll have company—Marcus is there with his fiancee-to-be. He’s easy to get on with and, ostensibly, you’ll be there to help Terrina get organised for the move back to England.’ He laid down his fork, his plate empty.

  ‘Packing and so forth, running errands. She’ll like the idea of having a personal maid,’ he informed her drily. I have business to attend to back home, so my early return won’t cause undue comment.’

  He sighed. He hadn’t meant to, but the thought of the devious methods he would have to employ to get rid of Terrina stuck in his gullet like a spectacularly sour plum.

  A sizzle of something that was part excitement, part trepidation, fizzed through every last one of Rosie’s veins. It was scary, but she could do it. She could.

  She could put up with being an unwanted nuisance as far as Sebastian was concerned for the chance to come face to face with her father at last.

  She picked up her fork and said, tonelessly, she hoped, ‘OK, I’ll tag along. When do we leave?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN Sebastian slid the sleekly opulent car into a reserved spot in the underground car park and, carrying her tatty luggage, ushered her into the matt steel lift that whisked them up into an ultra-modern, fabulously expensive penthouse suite Rosie’s embarrassment deepened until it practically sucked her into its hot and squirmy depths.

  Acres of bare polished wood flooring, a group of small sofas upholstered in an ultra-soft black leather which sported the slightest and most tasteful sheen, low clean-lined tables, artful spot lighting, two modern paintings which she guessed would just have to be masterpieces and worth a small fortune, even though she couldn’t make head nor tail of them.

  The apartment he used when he was in London, Sebastian had informed her. He also had a house in Cadiz. Well, bully for him!

  It was all a far cry from the run-down estate where she had been brought up. She’d seen his eyes narrow as he’d taken in the sight of the groups of mean-looking youths lounging on street corners, the younger kids kicking empty beer cans about, the abandoned cars on the waste land that had once been a kiddies’ playground but was now, somehow, turned into a rubbish dump.

  ‘I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.’ His voice sounded flat.

  As if, Rosie thought miserably, he was now regretting having ever suggested she accompany him to Spain, where she would sully the rarefied atmosphere of his mother’s no doubt exquisite home.

  Rosie followed like an automaton. She’d had to call in to collect her passport and pack a few more things for the journey ahead, there had been no getting out of it. Not that she was ashamed of her home ground but it made the differences between them stand out even more starkly.

  Man-like, he’d told her to get her passport, not to bother with anything else, no doubt blithely thinking she could manage with just the working jeans and tops she’d taken to Troone Manor.

  And man-like again, stubbornly refusing to stay with the car as she’d suggested, in case someone stole the wheels, he had followed her into the mini-market, chatting with Jeff, who was manning the check-out, while she shot up to her room, Jean hot on her tail.

  ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ her old friend had demanded. ‘He could be a white slaver, for all I know! Now your mother’s gone, God rest her, I feel responsible for you.’

  ‘He’s my employer.’ Rosie had pushed her passport into her best handbag, added a couple of clean handkerchiefs and her purs
e, which felt comfortably fat with her week’s earnings, solemnly counted out by Madge. ‘Going to Spain is the only way I’ll ever clap eyes on Marcus Troone. He’s not in England.’

  She’d reached down a shabby suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and stuffed everything she owned into it, just in case, patiently explaining, Apparently, he was taken ill a while back and is getting his strength back over there. It was either grab the opportunity or forget all about getting to meet him. You don’t have to worry about me, truly you don’t.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Jean hadn’t sounded very convinced.

  ‘Keep in touch, won’t you? You have our phone number. And Rosie—don’t think I forgot your birthday. I didn’t. I didn’t send a card or phone you. I didn’t know if you’d gone there incognito and I didn’t want to blow your cover! But I’d planned a surprise party for when you got back here.’

  Touched, Rosie had flung her arms around her old friend’s neck, miserably aware of how disappointed in her she’d be if she knew how closely she’d followed in her mother’s footsteps and jumped into bed with a man who was so completely out of her league.

  Uncomfortably aware now that the proximity of a bed and Sebastian Garcia was having a terrible effect on her heart-rate, she shuffled her feet against the thick pile of the white carpet.

  As if sensing her discomfiture he turned the brilliance of his silver eyes on her and she shivered, knowing that her determination to get real and wipe all her immature yearnings out of her head was a lost cause. Hell would freeze over before she would stop wanting him for herself, loving him.

  It’s too late to do anything useful today. I’ll phone out for our supper and we’ll go shopping tomorrow.’ His dark drawl made her spine quiver and her fascinated gaze lingered helplessly on the taut powerful lines of his body as he placed her luggage at the foot of the bed, where the battered old suitcase and the bulging plastic carrier reminded her shamefully of a heap of clutter left out for the bin men.

  Knowing that something other than an embarrassed silence would naturally be expected of her, Rosie hauled herself together and countered, ‘How long are we going to be here?’

  Then, remembering what he’d said about going to the shops, she offered, If you’ll tell me how to get to a supermarket I’ll do the shopping if you like. I’m a dab hand at finding bargains, believe me.’ That way she wouldn’t feel quite such a hanger-on.

  She could make herself useful and save him money by cooking for them instead of him having to send out for stuff that would probably be horribly expensive.

  Sebastian tossed her an underbrow look as a huge wave of tenderness engulfed him. She was obviously feeling out of her depth, anxious to slip into a role she would be comfortable with. A skivvy. Well, no way. She deserved better. She deserved the best.

  And quite where that thought had come from, or why it was so insistent, he had no idea. But he gave her his heartbreaking smile, and said, ‘We’re not going shopping for food, cara. I want to see you wearing decent clothes. You have a beautiful body; it’s a crime to hide it under dull, practical working gear. And we’ll only be, in London until I can arrange our flight out.’

  He shot a look at his slim gold wristwatch. ‘Which I’m about to get on to now.’

  Poleaxed by what had sounded like an endearment and a very real compliment, Rosie went bright scarlet and was too tongue-tied to speak until he’d turned on his heel and made a swift exit.

  By the time she’d gathered herself she could already hear him speaking on the phone, so that put paid to her belated intention to run after him and explain that she couldn’t afford to buy new clothes.

  Besides, she surely had something she could wear without making him cringe with embarrassment at being seen out with her.

  Staunchly determined not to read too much into what he’d said about her having a beautiful body, because men who leapt into bed with women on practically their first meeting probably said that sort of thing all the time, she began the dispiriting task of unpacking.

  Rosie had been awake for what seemed like absolutely ages but she wasn’t nearly ready to leave her bed and face the rest of the day. With him. Yesterday evening had been bad enough; the hours and hours stretching ahead would be worse.

  After he’d shown her to the room she was to use, she’d left him to his phoning and whatever else he was doing, too uncomfortable with the situation to be easy in his company. To pass the time, and hopefully stop herself thinking about him, she’d had a shower in the adjoining e n suite bathroom, pampering herself with the fragrant shampoos, oils and essences that would normally be way beyond her means.

  And, just to show him she had something other than shabby old jeans and sweatshirts to wear, she’d got into her one good dress. Bought several years ago because she’d fallen in love with the colour, a lovely hyacinth-blue, and she’d needed one nice dress to take on the school trip to Paris, it had been a real bargain. Not second-hand, either, but a knock-down price in a closing down sale.

  She had cinched the belt as tight as it would go. She’d obviously lost quite a bit of weight since she’d worn it last. But teamed with her respectable brown shoes she did look presentable. Not sophisticated or expensive, of course, as the women Sebastian would be used to squiring around would be expected to look, but nothing to be ashamed of, either.

  She’d been a bundle of nerves when he’d finally rapped on her bedroom door and told her, a touch impatiently, that their supper had arrived. Half hoping that he’d approve of the way she looked, and announce that in his opinion she didn’t need to spend her precious wages on clothes she obviously didn’t need, she had been disproportionately disappointed when he had said nothing at all.

  Seated opposite him at the kitchen table—the room resembled a set for an avant garde space-age film, she decided—her appetite had fled. She had been sure the food was delicious, the Sebastian Garcias of this world wouldn’t ruin their superior palates with anything suspect from a greasy spoon takeaway, but apart from nibbling at a giant prawn in a lemony sauce she hadn’t been able to eat a thing.

  ‘We fly out the day after tomorrow,’ was the only thing he said to her, not sounding over the moon about it, either, and for the rest of the time he seemed preoccupied with troublesome thoughts that he obviously had no intention of sharing with her.

  Growing more hot under the collar by the second, Rosie decided she knew why.

  Sitting up very straight, she told him, ‘Look, if you’re having second thoughts about my going with you to Spain, just say so. I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either.’

  Pushing his own barely touched plate away, Sebastian released a long sigh, his lean face hardening, his eyes pinning her to her seat. ‘Backing out, Rosie?’

  His tone warned her that if she gave him an affirmative she’d be in for a rough ride. And if she did back out she would lose the opportunity of seeing her father. Her own flesh and blood.

  But that didn’t really matter, did it? She could always visit Troone Manor when Marcus was back in residence and decide whether or not to introduce herself according to what her instincts at the time told her.

  She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that simple option before, and having an option gave her the courage to point out kindly, I expect you find me a nuisance. I know why you feel you have to keep an eye on me—we both behaved stupidly—’

  Oh, lordy, why did she have to keep blushing? She must resemble a boiled lobster! ‘But if I give you my solemn word that I’ll write and put you in the picture, when I know what the picture is, you needn’t go to the trouble of hauling me all the way to Spain.’

  Her breath gone, she sagged feebly back in her seat, what she had just done hitting her right in the face. She’d given him the perfect get-out and she knew she didn’t want him to take it.

  She was every kind of tool! Didn’t she know that spending time around him was damaging her poor demented heart’? Of course she damned well did!

  So, it had
to be said, if he took up her offer to write with any news she had and put her on the first train back to Wolverhampton in the morning, she might not like it, and would probably cry her eyes out for a month; but he would be doing her a kindness.

  He just kept looking at her, as if, she thought dejectedly, he was wondering if he could trust her to keep her word. She wriggled in her seat. Her emotions were going all chaotic again, as they normally did around this man, and when he tonelessly remarked, ‘Hauling’ you to Spain, as you so elegantly put it, will be no trouble at all,’ there was nothing else for it but to push back her chair, bid him a stiff goodnight, and head with more speed than dignity to her room. At least his attitude told her he had no intention of making love to her again. He didn’t repeat his mistakes. The knowledge should have made her feel more comfortable about the situation. But it didn’t.

  Now it was almost ten in the morning. She wasn’t used to staying in bed late, but the thought of enduring hours and hours of Sebastian’s stone-faced silences kept her where she was.

  It was perfectly obvious that he didn’t trust her to keep her word. He didn’t know her so why should he trust her? She didn’t know him, either, so she didn’t know what he’d meant when he’d said he took his responsibilities seriously.

  How could two people who didn’t know the first thing about each other fall into bed, just like that?

  She squirmed under the duvet, freshly awash with shame, and made the humiliating mental note that he hadn’t contradicted her when she’d said that he must find her a nuisance.

  An omission brought home to her when, after what she quiveringly decided was a most perfunctory rap, he strode into the room and drawled, ‘Shake a leg, Nuisance! I’m taking you to breakfast.’

  Between the strands of rumpled blonde hair that fell over her forehead and the top of the duvet she had pulled right up to her nose and was hanging on to for grim life, her sapphire eyes widened at him and she felt her whole body relax for the first time since she’d woken hours ago. His devastating smile and the fascinatingly warm glints in his black fringed silvery eyes told her he was teasing about the nuisance bit.