‘Trust takes time, Annalisa,’ Ramon said. ‘You didn’t have any time with your father, and your mother was too heartbroken to explain. But somehow I’m going to prove to you that trust is possible—however long it takes.’
‘But—’
‘What do I have to do to keep you quiet?’ he demanded softly. And without waiting for an answer, he swung her into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom.
CHAPTER NINE
‘DO YOU mind if I take a look around up here while you take your bath?’
‘Of course not,’ Annalisa said. She had nothing to hide. ‘But be warned—the only bedroom that I’ve done anything with is this one.’
‘Why aren’t you using the master bedroom?’
He didn’t need to know that as soon as she’d realised it had been her father’s room she had shut the door and never opened it again. ‘No reason. I just preferred the view from this room… It’s smaller…and should be easier to keep warm in the winter…’
His brows knit together. ‘You’re not in England now,’ he pointed out. ‘Surely when the hot nights come you would be more comfortable in a larger room?’ He didn’t press it when she stayed silent. ‘Sure you don’t mind?’ he said, making for the door.
‘Go right ahead,’ she said, swinging out of bed.
She had finished her bath by the time Ramon came back to the bedroom.
‘Look at this,’ he said, sitting beside her on the bed.
As she took the faded photograph from him her heart began to thunder. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the main bedroom. Aren’t you going to look at it?’ She held the piece of dimpled card tighter, as if touch was all it took to reveal the images contained on the faded print.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t see it sooner. It was lying right on top of that old carved chest.’
As if someone had intended her to find it… ‘I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to search every inch—’
‘You don’t have to explain,’ Ramon said. ‘You do know who it is?’
Of course she did. Her hands dropped to her lap, still clutching the photograph. The laughing girl was her mother—a much younger version, but unmistakable. The man with his arm around her, smiling into her eyes, was— She let out a small cry and thrust the photograph back at Ramon. ‘I don’t want to see it. Take it away.’
‘But that’s your father,’ Ramon said gently. ‘I was hoping to find something like this…to prove to you—’ He sighed heavily when he saw that her face was set and distant. ‘Look, Annalisa, you can see for yourself how much they loved each other.’
‘I don’t need to see proof of what he felt for my mother!’ she exclaimed. ‘I lived with the results of that love every day.’ Confusion was churning around inside her. If her father had loved her mother so much, where had it all gone wrong? ‘I’ll always be thankful for the money…for the finca. But I can never forget what my mother went through…the poverty, the bitterness—’
‘Stop it, Annalisa,’ Ramon insisted fiercely. ‘I won’t let you do this to yourself.’
‘Why not? Because it’s true? Because it would suit you very well if I went down the same path as my mother?’
His silence was absolute. In a single heartbeat his eyes turned to stone. ‘I thought we were long past that.’
‘What?’ Annalisa demanded, throwing her arms wide in a gesture of distress and frustration and anger.
‘The point where you insult me by suggesting I can’t be trusted,’ he said coldly, standing up and moving away from her.
‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m stating facts as I see them.’
‘But that’s the trouble, Annalisa. The facts as you see them have nothing to do with the truth.’
‘So what is the truth? Pregnant woman discarded by Spanish grandee awarded generous pension? How are you going to clean that up for me, Ramon?’
‘Life is never as straightforward as you seem to think it should be,’ he said. ‘Get your head out of the textbooks, Annalisa. Take a look around at real life, real people, real problems… You find me some nice straightforward situations and then I’ll concede you’ve got a point.’
‘And what about our “situation”?’ she said, stressing the word to emphasise the ambiguity of their relationship. ‘How would you describe that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What if I’m pregnant?’ The words shot out of her mouth without making contact with her brain. It was instinct, sheer instinct, and terror at what he might say if he ever gave that possibility some thought.
Ramon went very still. ‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked softly.
‘I don’t know… No! I just had to know how you’d react if—’
His hands shot up to cradle his head, and then swept down again in an angry gesture of denial. ‘Stop it, Annalisa,’ he warned. ‘I thought we had a better understanding than this—’
Her short contemptuous sound cut him off. ‘An understanding? Is that what we have?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he insisted angrily. ‘You know how I feel—’
‘Oh, do I?’ Annalisa demanded as she shot to her feet. ‘And how would I know that, exactly?’
‘Haven’t I proved my feelings for you with everything I do?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, feeling her chest constrict as ghosts from the past refused to let her see past her own insecurities. ‘You haven’t mentioned love once.’
Briefly he looked shaken. ‘You want a sonnet a day?’
‘I want—’ Annalisa began angrily. Then, breaking away, she rushed to the bathroom before he could see that she was crying. ‘I don’t know what I want!’
‘That’s right. Run away,’ she heard him shout after her.
She stopped by the door, her hand on the wall, steadying herself. ‘I’m not running anywhere, Ramon. I’m here to stay. Get used to it.’
When she emerged some time later the bedroom was empty. Standing uncertainly in the centre of the room, Annalisa waited, listening. She felt some of the tension ease when she heard Ramon moving about downstairs. But then it returned again when she thought how much she wanted him…but not on any terms. She owed him so much, but that didn’t mean she had to adopt his views on the past, or accept a role on the sidelines of his life.
She put off drying her hair and dressed quickly in a pair of decent shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.
Wearing just his jeans and a close-fitting top, Ramon had made himself comfortable in one of her easy chairs. Holding a mug of coffee in one hand, he was reading the local paper with his long legs stretched out and his bare feet resting against Fudge’s back. He looked up. His expression was as uncompromising as her own.
This was never going to be easy, Annalisa realised. They were both strong. Both equally determined they were right. ‘Lunch?’
‘Coffee’s fine.’
‘Can I get you something else?’ she said, crossing to help herself from the pot.
‘I have to get back.’
‘Of course.’ She tried not to let it matter.
‘Why don’t you come with me?’
She managed not to choke—just. The casual invitation flew in the face of all her suspicions. If this was a game of chess she was in check. ‘OK. Why not?’
‘Ten minutes suit you?’ he said, shooting a glance at his watch. ‘I’ve sent for the car.’
‘Fine,’ she agreed evenly.
‘Someone will collect the horse while we’re gone.’
‘Should I ask Maria Teresa to see to Fudge?’
‘It wouldn’t hurt.’
‘Am I all right dressed like this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do I need anything?’
‘Only you can answer that, Annalisa,’ Ramon said as he got up to put his mug in the sink.
His distance was like a reproof. Was this his way of punishing her for stepping over the mark…for demanding too much of him? She felt her emotions shift gear as frustration
and anger gathered in her throat. There were two ways to answer the challenge: she could lose control again, or accept that the type of relationship Ramon wanted cut both ways; you surrendered nothing, you gained nothing. ‘I’ll just make that call,’ she said.
Stepping over the threshold of Ramon’s home was very different from her first visit. This time Rodriguez bowed to her as he opened the door.
‘I’ve got a few calls to make,’ Ramon said as they stood side by side in the hall. ‘Take a look around while you wait.’
‘You’re sure—?’
‘I had the run of your place. I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home. Please show Señorita Wilson into the library,’ he said, turning to Rodriguez. ‘There are plenty of interesting early volumes in there for you to root through,’ he said, turning back to her. ‘First editions… Ben Jonson…’ The look on her face drew an ironic half-smile from him. ‘See you in a minute,’ he said quietly.
And then she was following Rodriguez into a large airy room overlooking the sea. It didn’t look much like a library.
‘The air-conditioning is not working in the library, Señorita Wilson,’ Rodriguez explained. ‘But you will be equally comfortable in here. Ring for me if you need anything,’ he added, pointing to an ivory velvet pull-cord in one corner of the room.
Was he joking? No, he wasn’t, Annalisa realised when she walked across and examined the length of thick plaited cord hanging in a corner. It disappeared through an opening in the ceiling and obviously rang through to some other part of the house.
She gazed around… Where to start? It was a great opportunity—temptation with a license, a chance to discover what Ramon’s home revealed about him.
Quality, comfort, but no clutter, she thought as she prowled about. Marble floors covered with priceless Aubusson rugs in shades of rose, peach and ochre. She skirted those and continued with her appraisal in another area.
Vast picture windows dressed with nothing more than pale wood shutters, folded back at present. Two blue and white man-height Chinese vases either side of a baronial-size stone fireplace… A profusion of fresh flowers cascading out of one mammoth vase on top of a stone plinth… Ivory-coloured sofas punctuated with jewel-coloured silk cushions—a suggestion of exotic allure amidst all the restraint… Very Ramon, she decided, smiling faintly. Then, just when she had begun to think that all the room lacked was a personal touch, she spied a clutch of silver-framed photographs arranged on top of a rosewood desk.
There were several striking shots of Ramon and another man she took to be his brother. Standing easily together, their arms draped loosely across each other’s shoulders, they stood on the deck of a boat…a racing yacht, she corrected herself after studying the picture more closely. Almost as handsome as Ramon, Luis appeared to be a few years younger. And where Ramon’s hair was pitch-black, Luis’s was a warm, sun-streaked tawny brown. A consequence of his addiction to sailing, she decided, taking another look. His eyes were penetrating too, but a fierce green rather than smouldering amber-brown. No wonder Margarita was in love with him. He was stunning. And they looked so happy together in their wedding photograph…
There were studio portraits of Margarita and Aurelia, along with several family groups just as she might have expected. And behind this most recent group of photographs stood an older collection of prints. Some were black and white, some sepia. Annalisa presumed they showed distant ancestors of the Crianza Perez family. Her glance was just sweeping over them when Ramon strode into the room.
‘What are you doing in here?’
In the space of a heartbeat he was standing next to her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Annalisa began, but he waved his hand impatiently and steered her away from the desk.
‘The calls took longer than I anticipated,’ he explained.
‘That’s all right. I’ve been looking at your photographs.’
‘The photographs?’
‘You. Your brother…Margarita, Aurelia… They’re all so good.’
‘Why didn’t you go into the library as I suggested?’
‘Rodriguez said the air-conditioning wasn’t working in there,’ Annalisa explained, wondering about his short incomprehensible outburst in Spanish. She could understand how crucial the air-conditioning system would be as the weather grew hotter. Even a house as large as his would be stifling without it.
‘There’s something you need to know,’ Ramon said.
His expression frightened her. ‘Now?’
He answered by propelling her towards some double doors that led onto a veranda overlooking the sea.
‘This is so beautiful,’ Annalisa murmured distractedly, moving away from him. Resting her hands lightly on the cool stone rail, she felt as if she could happily gaze out at the timeless beauty for ever…prolonging the moment of blissful ignorance indefinitely! She felt intuitively that whatever Ramon had to say wasn’t good.
‘The photographs,’ he began, coming to stand beside her. ‘I should have been with you—’ He broke off with an exclamation of impatience and swiped a hand across his forehead.
Angry with her, or for her? She couldn’t tell. ‘Is it so important?’ she said, pulling back from the balustrade. ‘They’re only photographs.’
‘It is important…very important.’
‘Why?’ Annalisa demanded softly, not sure whether she was ready to hear his answer.
‘Understand first,’ he began, ‘that I use this house as a convenience. This is not a home. There are few personal touches here…apart from those photographs.’
‘I had noticed—’
He put his hand on her arm, urging her to hear him out. ‘This is serious, Annalisa. I want you to believe me when I tell you that I have had no reason to look at any of those photographs or even think about them for years…until I met you.’
‘And now?’ she said apprehensively.
‘I’ll show you.’ His hand was on her back, compelling, relentlessly driving her forward.
They walked back inside and Ramon took her over to the desk. He didn’t intend to prolong the agony with meaningless platitudes. He simply picked out one of the silver-framed photographs and gave it to her.
‘Who is this?’ she said, but in her heart she already knew. The black and white photograph showed three people: Don Pedro di Fuego Montoya stood in the centre, with two beautiful young women either side of him. Claudia was one; her mother was the other. Vaguely Annalisa became aware that Ramon’s arm had moved to circle her shoulder. ‘What does this mean?’ she asked, turning her face up to him.
‘Your mother was employed by Claudia’s father,’ he said, prising the photograph out of her hands and returning it to the desk.
She frowned and gave her head a shake, as if trying to release the memories locked inside. ‘I know she worked here on the island… I know that’s how she met my father… I never knew the details—’
‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’
‘Please,’ she said, resting her hand on his arm almost as if she was reassuring him now. She needed to know more…everything.
‘Claudia’s father was highly respected on the island. He came from old money. He was a widower, bringing up his daughter alone. He indulged her every whim. But an aristocratic lifestyle costs a lot of money and puts none in the bank.’
‘He went broke?’
‘Yes,’ Ramon confirmed. ‘But that didn’t stop him spending money on Claudia…her education, her clothes…’
‘And my mother?’
‘Claudia met your mother when she was at school in England.’
Comprehension dawned in Annalisa’s eyes. ‘My grandfather was a teacher.’
‘Claudia and your mother became friends. Your mother returned to the island as Claudia’s paid companion.’
‘Her companion?’ Annalisa said with surprise, glancing at the photograph again. ‘My mother never mentioned Claudia once.’
‘Hardly surprising,’ Ramon murmured dryly. ‘They spent holida
ys together, almost always over here…for the freedom as well as the weather.’
‘I can see why,’ Annalisa murmured as she remembered her loveable but rather authoritarian grandfather. She couldn’t imagine anything getting past him.
‘As soon as Claudia began to appreciate the financial predicament her father was in, she began to cast her eye around to find something…someone…who could bail her out.’
‘And Don Pedro—’
‘Was certainly rich enough,’ Ramon confirmed. ‘But Don Pedro di Fuego Montoya was in love with your mother.’
Annalisa passed a hand across her brow as she worked the rest out for herself.
‘I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t had to tell you this,’ Ramon said gently.
Annalisa lifted her chin. ‘I’m only glad that someone has told me the truth at last. Thank you.’
Ramon stared at her intently for a moment. ‘You’re sure?’
‘And I’m glad it was you,’ she added softly.
‘Then I’m glad it was me,’ he said.
She was glad. Ramon had made her face up to the past instead of living in its shadow. She would always be grateful to him for that.
‘Would you like to see the rest of the house?’
She smiled her assent. An impersonal tour would buy her the time to adjust she so badly needed.
‘I’m keen to see what you think,’ he said, leading the way out of the room, ‘because my plan is to make this house the centrepiece of my development.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t live here any more?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘When Margarita and Luis move into their own place this house will be far too big for me.’
‘So you’d turn it into a hotel?’
He confirmed her deduction. ‘Very select. Twenty bedrooms to begin with, all en suite…every sports facility you could imagine—’
‘Including a marina?’
His eyes slanted in wry agreement.
‘And you would live where, exactly?’
‘I’ve got my eye on a few desirable properties in the country.’
‘A few?’
A Spanish Inheritance Page 15
