A Spanish Inheritance

by Susan Stephens

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got him,’ Ramon rasped as he urged him down.

  ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ she said fighting to stay calm.

  ‘Lucky guess?’ he suggested sardonically.

  The only luck about it was the fact that Ramon Perez was such a force on the island everyone wanted to keep him informed of anything that might interest him, Annalisa thought, raising her eyebrows in a show of disbelief. He would have known the instant she set foot on Menorcan soil.

  ‘Things went well for you in England.’

  He knew that too. ‘Yes. Thank you for—’

  He flicked the reins on his horse’s neck and straightened up as if he was impatient to go. ‘That’s good,’ he said, brushing off her attempt to thank him.

  She stared at his strong hands, wanting to forget how they felt when they were caressing her. But she would never forget, she realised as the hollow place inside her grew. Searching his face, she saw his mouth was hard and firm. And his eyes…those eyes that she remembered so vividly, dark liquid eyes that burned with desire for her…were hard and stony as they stared straight back. ‘It went better than I had any right to expect,’ she blurted out, suddenly desperate to keep him there.

  ‘I’m pleased for you,’ he grated, battling with his impatient mount. ‘We have to go. He’s bored,’ he added, to her consternation. Did that mean he was too? ‘Don’t look so alarmed,’ he said misreading her expression. ‘I would never let him harm you.’

  ‘I’m not alarmed,’ Annalisa lied coolly. But seeing the magnificent horse reduced to something quivering and quiescent in the grip of Ramon’s powerful thighs wasn’t exactly a soothing sight. And Ramon, with his billowing traditional shirt slit almost to the waist and hide chaps flapping loose over his handcrafted boots, looked more like a wild Spanish gypsy than an international tycoon. And she…looked like a travel-weary tourist! ‘You just startled me,’ she said.

  ‘Then both Dardo and I apologise,’ Ramon said sardonically, bowing low over the stallion’s sweat-slicked withers.

  ‘Dardo?’

  ‘It means dart,’ he explained, adjusting his grip. ‘The name on his pedigree is grander, of course—Black Diamond Cupid’s Dart.’

  ‘That’s quite a name,’ Annalisa agreed, wondering which was safer—looking the horse in the eye, or Ramon.

  ‘Well, he has quite a responsibility—don’t you, boy?’ Ramon said, giving his mount a vigorous slap on the neck as he spoke to him. ‘Dardo is the most valuable of all my stallions at stud.’

  ‘I see…’

  ‘He’s had enough,’ Ramon said, easing the great horse round in a circle.

  At first she didn’t understand. But when he held the stallion at a prancing halt in front of her Annalisa’s pulse took flight. ‘Oh, no—I’ll be fine.’ Ramon was riding bareback, with just a bridle to control what looked to her like a mountain of over-excited and extremely unpredictable muscle, and if he thought for one moment—

  ‘Are you scared?’ he challenged.

  ‘Of course not,’ she shot back. ‘I’ve done a lot of riding—’

  ‘Like your swimming?’

  As she flashed him a look, a picture of her riding school hacks crept into her mind.

  ‘Nothing to say?’

  ‘Plenty,’ she said, levelling a long cool stare at him. ‘But first I’d like to continue my walk, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘But I do mind,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t you trust me, Annalisa?’

  He was looking for a lot more than an endorsement of his riding prowess, she thought as she met his dark, challenging stare. And, whatever machiavellian schemes he had up his sleeve for her where business was concerned, she wouldn’t have found the money without him…

  As she took a step closer the stallion blew a gale down his nose and stared at her boldly through fierce brown orbs. She took another step, then stopped when he lifted his head to gust a long whinnying sigh, his pliant lips rolling back over his large ivory teeth.

  ‘Ahh,’ Ramon sighed sardonically. ‘He likes you.’

  Oh, really? Annalisa thought, locking eyes with the hard-hearted brigand on Dardo’s back.

  ‘But he’s impatient,’ he murmured. ‘And so am I!’

  The next step was her last. As the stallion surged forward Ramon hoisted her off the ground and settled her in front of him in one seamless move.

  ‘Relax. Relax!’ he rasped, his arm a steel band around her waist.

  ‘How can I?’ Annalisa wailed, wondering how she came to be balanced on the horse at all as it launched itself over the wall and thundered across the field.

  ‘Lean into me,’ Ramon breathed against her ear. ‘Don’t fight it. Wrap your hands round his mane. Like this,’ he encouraged, his strong fingers directing her movements. ‘That’s better,’ he said approvingly. ‘Now we can go faster!’

  ‘No!’

  But Ramon was harder to curb than his stallion, and his passion infected her. Only moments later she was begging him to go faster. He only reined in when they came up to the stone arch that marked the entrance to the finca.

  ‘That was—’ Annalisa exhaled deeply and sagged, lost for words.

  ‘Almost as good as sex? Or just very good, but not that good?’

  If there had been any warmth at all in his voice she might have responded, but instead she pulled away as he moved to lift her down.

  ‘Not had enough yet?’ he murmured, wheeling the horse around.

  There wasn’t much choice—she was under his control for now, Annalisa realised, tightening her grip on the mane as she made a futile attempt to distance herself from Ramon’s warm body.

  ‘Lean against me,’ he ordered. ‘You’ll hurt him, sitting so far forward—or is there some reason why you can’t?’

  ‘You haven’t shaved,’ she said primly.

  His familiar laugh ran a bolt of sensation through parts already rubbed tender by the horse.

  ‘I don’t remember you complaining before.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ she said, struggling to remain immune to his potent masculinity.

  ‘They’re your orchards,’ he said, reining in to point over the fence. ‘You should know.’

  Annalisa stared in amazement. In the few weeks since Enrique had wreaked havoc with his radical surgery it seemed that a miracle had occurred. ‘I don’t understand,’ she murmured.

  Lush green foliage cloaked every branch, and half the village seemed to be busily employed clearing and digging, clipping and spraying.

  ‘That’s because all your life you have lived fifteen hundred cooler miles north,’ Ramon said. ‘Here in Menorca everything happens much faster.’

  There could be no safe comment on that, she thought.

  ‘So you see, Annalisa,’ he went on. ‘You should have had more faith. All it took was some sunshine, dung—’

  ‘How romantic,’ she murmured under her breath.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Anything else apart from dung?’ Annalisa demanded suspiciously.

  ‘Sunshine.’

  ‘And?’ she pushed, levelling a cool amber gaze on him.

  His beautifully shaped lips tugged down at each side. ‘Rather a lot of water.’

  ‘From where, exactly?’

  ‘Why don’t I show you?’ he suggested, nudging the horse into a turn. A few strides further along he showed her where trenches had been dug around the trees. ‘Until a proper pipe can be laid underground we have cobbled together this arrangement,’ he said.

  ‘We?’

  ‘The water can only come from one source.’

  ‘You,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘Would you like to see what else has been done while you were away?’

  Her mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t just march in and take over the running of her property each time she was away… But on the other hand, thanks to his water, the orchards were thriving. ‘Of course I’m interested,�
� she said.

  Swinging his leg over the stallion, Ramon jumped to the ground. ‘Here,’ he said, holding Dardo steady as he reached up to help her down.

  She hesitated a moment, then slid into his arms. Pulling away quickly, she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

  ‘A galvanised pipe runs from my well down the length of your orchard. A series of hoses are connected to the pipe, so each evening we can irrigate a certain number of trees. As more channels are dug so more water can be supplied.’

  ‘And what is this going to cost me?’

  ‘I’m sure you will be able to satisfy all my demands.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Annalisa murmured, weighing up the huge storage tank that now stood in place of a rickety old barn. If it was a case of Just hand over your shoreline in return for everything that had been done, he was in for a big disappointment.

  ‘Eh! Señorita!’

  ‘Enrique!’ Annalisa exclaimed with pleasure. ‘The trees…it’s a miracle!’

  Baring his gums, the wily old villager lifted his shoulders in an expansive shrug. ‘El bon sol y agua!’

  ‘Just the good sun and water,’ Ramon translated.

  ‘I know,’ Annalisa said, watching Enrique’s pleasure when Ramon clapped the old man on the shoulder.

  ‘Nothing would have been possible without your expertise, Enrique,’ he said.

  And Ramon’s water, she thought.

  As Enrique returned to his work she turned to Ramon and said frankly, ‘It was nice of you to give him all the credit.’

  ‘I am nice,’ Ramon insisted, his dark eyes brewing up a storm as he gazed at her lips. ‘Given half a chance…’

  As their eyes met her senses surged beyond the point where reason could dictate caution.

  ‘Welcome back, señorita!’

  Snapping out of the trance, Annalisa turned to see Maria Teresa hurrying across the yard with a basket over her arm. Well, she did have thirteen children back home. She could hardly expect her to stay on indefinitely.

  ‘Fudge has been fed. Don’t let him fool you. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Goodbye, Maria Teresa…and thank you.’

  ‘Dardo has earned a rest too,’ Ramon murmured, slapping his stallion’s neck.

  ‘Why don’t you turn him out in the field?’

  ‘OK. I’ll just go and wipe him down…find him a drink.’

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ Well, it was only polite.

  He paused and looked at her. Suddenly the small distance between them seemed part of them both. ‘That would be good,’ he said, still holding her gaze.

  As she watched him lead Dardo across the yard Annalisa could feel the familiar honey-sweet lethargy stealing over her limbs.

  But the languor was ruptured the moment she opened the door and a small tornado hurled himself at her legs. With an exclamation of pleasure she knelt to fuss over the old dog. But Fudge was so confident of his hold over her affections that he seized his opportunity to scoot past her and scamper away towards the orchards. No doubt there would be plenty of lunch packs to share there, she mused wryly.

  ‘So, Annalisa—’

  Her hand flew to her throat as Ramon walked into the house, ducking his head to avoid the garlands of herbs Maria Teresa had installed over the door.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  ‘I’m always on edge after a long journey,’ she lied.

  ‘Coffee?’ he suggested, strolling over towards the range.

  ‘Make yourself at home.’

  ‘OK,’ he agreed, reaching for a jar of coffee beans from the shelf.

  Her eyes fixed on his easy movements. Half new man, half unreconstructed male—most women would be drooling… OK, she was drooling.

  ‘You can help me if you like,’ he suggested, without turning around.

  An offer to make coffee should come without any extras, she thought, trying to will her heart to slow down. ‘You seem to have everything under control.’

  He set the water to boil on the range. ‘Come here,’ he insisted softly.

  It wouldn’t hurt to find the mugs for him.

  The moment she was within reach Ramon seized her waist and had her on the counter in front of him. She was still gasping with shock when he parted her legs with his hip and moved in close. His hands slid over her buttocks, cupping, controlling. A sound of pleasure and surprise escaped her lips as his large buckle chafed her and she heard him laugh…just a rumble of satisfaction down low in his chest. Ramon was all male, she thought weakly as his mouth brushed hers with a light and tantalising touch.

  ‘You missed me,’ he said. A statement not a question. And then his tongue drove her lips apart and he pressed hard against her, his body so big, so muscular and unyielding as he brought her into his arms. She groaned as sensation streamed through her body, erotic and extreme… The scent of him was curling around her, warm and evocative, the seductive lines of his hard frame beneath her hands. She heard herself moan and then beg as her fingers scored his back.

  ‘Gatito!’ he exclaimed softly. But it seemed to please him, for he only teased her more, whispering suggestions that made her writhe in his arms. Then, banding one arm around her, he allowed his fingers to trace the pulsing mound of her femininity beneath the fine lace thong, playing her skilfully and judging her responses while he murmured encouragement until she was all feeling, all passion, all need… And then, finding her hot and wet, he dragged off the scrap of lace and plunged his fingers in deep, so that she arched against him.

  ‘No,’ he said sternly when she clung to him, crying out with pleasure. ‘This is not enough for me, querida.’ And she reached down, exhaling fast as she fumbled with his buckle and then took him in her hands.

  Parting her legs wide, she wrapped them around him, clutching him with her thighs, leaning back and offering, waiting until with a last searing glance he drove deep inside her and set up a seductive rhythm of long slow strokes. Their gazes locked, reflecting, intensifying each other’s pleasure, until with a last shuddering cry Annalisa felt him tip her over the edge of reason into a moment so intense, so violent and uncontrolled, he had to use all his strength to keep her beneath him. But then he moved as she wanted him to, and made sure that it was all over, and she lay trembling in his arms before surrendering to the thought-robbing pleasure of his own savage release.

  When at last he lifted her down they stood entwined for a while in silent communication.

  ‘That was—’

  He put his finger over her lips. ‘I want to stay here…I want to spend the night with you.’

  She lifted her chin, but he cut off her questions with kisses that were tender now, tender and searching.

  And when he broke away at last it was Annalisa’s turn to silence him. And, finding his hand, she linked her fingers through his, led him across the room and took him upstairs.

  Maria Teresa had placed a terracotta bowl of country flowers in the hearth of the old stone fireplace and their subtle scent perfumed the air. The shutters had been left open a crack so that the bed was a haven of shade streaked with pale streamers of sunlight.

  There was no rush now, just clothes pooling at their feet, eyes meeting, holding, trusting. Nothing existed beyond his warm touch and her eager responses. Lips brushing his chest, whispered sighs, sweet murmurings of love, one thought, one desire… The desire she felt only with him.

  And then he was moulding her to him, and his hands grew firm as they explored her body. He found her breasts first with his lips and then his tongue, and now it was his turn to drag in a fast involuntary breath. Supporting her weight over one arm, he slipped his hand between her legs and, hearing her moan, carried her to the bed. Wrapping her legs around him, he made a seamless transition from one welcome invasion to another fuller and more complete assault.

  Again their hunger overtook them, so that there was no finesse: none possible and none sought. They moved fiercely together, Annalisa held
firm between thighs of steel as she called out his name and shuddered repeatedly in his arms while he kissed her slowly and deeply, brushing her hair back from her damp face with long, tender strokes.

  As she faced herself in the bathroom mirror Annalisa saw a puzzled reflection staring back at her. She knew Ramon was still asleep, his long, sun-bronzed limbs sprawled in casual contentment across her bed. She was at a loss to identify exactly what had changed. There was no physical cause she could pin down, just a great and compelling stillness inside her that seemed to demand recognition.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Ramon! You startled me.’ As his arms looped around her waist she rested back with an easy familiarity she had never found with him before.

  ‘You’ll catch cold,’ he murmured, reaching out one hand to grab her robe from its hook on the door. ‘What are you doing in here on your own?’

  ‘I’m not on my own,’ Annalisa pointed out, nestling into him.

  ‘Not now,’ he agreed, brushing away her thick curtain of hair to kiss her neck. ‘Nor ever again, querida. But you haven’t answered my question. And you know what that means…’

  ‘Do I?’ His kisses roused her senses so easily.

  ‘It means I have to make you tell me what’s troubling you,’ he murmured against her lips.

  ‘I can’t wait—’

  ‘No,’ he warned softly, pulling his head back. ‘I saw something in your face just now. There’s something wrong. And you must tell me what it is.’

  How can I do that when I don’t know? Annalisa wondered.

  ‘Is it your father?’ Ramon suggested, wrapping a towel around his waist.

  ‘He meant a lot to you,’ she observed gently, relieved to have the chance to concentrate on something safer than the impenetrable sensations she had no key to unlock.

  ‘You only had to ask,’ he chided when he saw the sadness in her eyes.

  ‘I was wrong to misjudge him so badly. He sent money all those years—’

  ‘Don’t punish yourself. You weren’t to know.’

  ‘And my mother never spent a penny of it…and he left me the finca—’ She broke off and her voice was choked with emotion when she spoke again. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t trust him—’