A Spanish Inheritance

by Susan Stephens

  ‘Stay exactly where you are,’ Ramon instructed. ‘Don’t move.’

  ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘Maria Teresa,’ he explained shortly, lowering himself in. Testing the steps, he chose to swing over the side, clinging on by his hands and then dropping into the water beside her. He dragged Annalisa into his arms. ‘She ran all the way to the church to find me, poor woman. As soon as she told me what had happened I went to find you.’ He stopped, burying his face in her hair. ‘I didn’t know what had happened to you…I was so frightened.’

  ‘You—frightened?’ But when she pulled back and saw the depth of the pain in his eyes she linked her fingers behind his neck and softened against him.

  ‘Dios! If they had hurt you!’ he exclaimed. He threw his head back in anguish. ‘How cunning they were…waiting until everyone had left for the church…shooing everyone off…trying to trick Maria Teresa. All to get you alone.’ He cursed again, a short, violent outburst. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Half of our guests are out scouring the countryside.’ His eyes devoured her as if he would never trust himself to let her out of his sight again. And then he saw the state she was in—covered in mud and slime and completely naked except for a badly ripped, near-transparent underskirt and a very tiny thong. ‘Something blue, I presume?’ he murmured huskily.

  ‘You guessed,’ Annalisa agreed, rubbing against his naked chest.

  ‘Later,’ he promised, pulling away reluctantly. ‘We have a very important appointment to keep first.’ And, putting Fudge under one arm, he wrapped his other firmly around Annalisa’s waist and helped them both up the steps.

  ‘Is this Claudia’s work?’ he demanded when they were out.

  ‘She threw the ball; Fudge followed,’ Annalisa said, collapsing onto a sliver of damp sand between the rocks. ‘She wanted me to sign—’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘She took the necklace instead.’

  He hunkered down beside her and drew her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry, querida. I know how you loved it. But a necklace can be replaced. You can’t.’

  ‘I knew Claudia hated me, but I never thought—’

  ‘When she found out where all your father’s money had gone, on top of him leaving the finca to you, it was the last straw,’ Ramon said, holding her tight. ‘Then when Don Alfonso refused to co-operate with her scheming she brought in her lover, Rafael. And he had been my chauffeur for—’

  She saw his stunning dark eyes narrow at the thought of the betrayal by a member of his own staff. ‘But why did she need Rafael?’

  ‘Presumably to try some strong-arm tactics on you if her bullying didn’t work.’

  ‘Your chauffeur was a pussycat in comparison to Claudia,’ Annalisa said, nestling against him.

  ‘Who knows what depths they might have sunk to when you refused to sign?’ he warned. ‘If they hadn’t decided that the necklace was more portable than a hostage—’

  ‘A hostage!’

  ‘Well, I’ve made no secret of the way I feel about you,’ he said. ‘You’re worth far more to me than everything I own. The whole world knows it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get rid of your chauffeur before?’

  ‘I didn’t know what he was up to until now. And when I first employed him—’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘This is a small island, Annalisa. He couldn’t find work when Claudia’s father died…he came to me.’

  ‘So, you didn’t know about the two of them?’

  ‘And neither did your father, I suspect.’

  ‘Of course,’ Annalisa murmured as the last piece of the jigsaw fell into place. ‘I should have known.’

  For a few moments Ramon just held her. Then Fudge’s bark distracted them both.

  ‘There he goes,’ Ramon said, as without so much as a lick of gratitude the old dog leapt away from them and shot off towards the finca.

  ‘You’re covered in sand,’ Annalisa said, enjoying the view as Ramon stretched his cramped limbs and relaxed onto his back.

  ‘And you’re covered in mud,’ he reminded her, cupping her breasts in his hands. As she gasped with pleasure he lifted his head and began to suck each outthrust, dirt-smudged nipple clean. And then, tugging her over him, he meshed his fingers through her thick dark hair and brought her down for his kisses, penetrating her mouth with the unmistakable rhythm that always flooded her nerve-endings with fire.

  She felt his erection jutting against her belly and tightened her thighs. ‘Is there time?’ she demanded huskily.

  ‘Sadly, our guests are waiting,’ Ramon reminded her, though it failed to stop him slipping his hand underneath her. ‘Dios, you’re wet,’ he murmured as his searching fingers found the fine fabric stretched tight between her thighs. His lips tilted down in pretended regret as he withdrew his hand, but she knew the teasing foreplay was only preparation for their wedding night.

  ‘Here,’ he said reaching out to grab the filthy bodice. ‘Cover yourself up, querida, before I lose control. We can’t keep our guests waiting for ever.’ And flashing her a grin he sprang to his feet.

  Maria Teresa had been looking out for them, and she rushed from the finca the moment they entered the yard. She insisted on enveloping Annalisa in her own black lace shawl.

  ‘Come, señorita…quick, quick!’

  Releasing her into safe hands, Ramon left her to thank everyone who had manned the search parties.

  Annalisa found the finca full of excited women. They whisked her straight upstairs, where she found a warm fragrant bath waiting for her. Then later, as she was rooting through her wardrobe to find something to wear, she heard a tap at the door.

  ‘Yes?’ she said distractedly, as she held up a turquoise floor-length dress in fine, flower-sprigged voile.

  Poking her head into the room, Maria Teresa smiled. But when she saw what Annalisa was doing she shook her head vehemently. ‘No, no, Señorita Wilson. We have brought you something special to wear.’

  Annalisa hesitated, then, seeing all the other women standing behind Maria Teresa, she beckoned them in.

  With an urgent gesture Maria Teresa summoned two young girls into the room. They carried between them the most exquisite gown Annalisa had ever seen. In heavy silk the colour of clotted cream, every inch of the figure-hugging sheath was intricately embroidered with tiny bugle beads that shimmered subtly like moonbeams on a lake. ‘It’s absolutely stunning,’ Annalisa breathed. But, knowing it had to be someone’s treasured possession, she shook her head. ‘I couldn’t possibly wear it.’

  ‘But señorita,’ Maria Teresa began, ‘the dress was your mother’s. She would want you to wear it.’

  ‘But my mother—’ Annalisa stopped, swallowed, and started again. ‘My mother never owned anything so…’

  ‘It was to have been her wedding dress, Señorita Wilson. For her marriage to your father, Don Pedro,’ Maria Teresa said gently.

  Annalisa froze, her thoughts in confusion, while Maria Teresa chivvied everyone out of the room. Before they left the two girls reverently laid the dress on top of Annalisa’s smooth white bedspread.

  When the door had shut quietly behind them Maria Teresa continued her explanation. ‘Before Claudia told your father she was pregnant he bought this dress for your mother to wear at their wedding. It has never been out of the beautiful box…or even out of the tissue paper…before today.’

  Annalisa stared at it again. Her mother’s hopes for the future had been invested in the ravishing gown. The pleasure of wearing it should have been hers. She leaned forward, wistfully tracing the beautiful fabric with her finger. Ramon had told her to build on the past… ‘Will you help me to put it on?’ she said, turning to Maria Teresa.

  On Maria Teresa’s signal everyone trooped back into the bedroom.

  Annalisa turned to face them. ‘Do I look all right?’

  ‘All right?’ Maria Teresa scoffed. ‘You look beautiful, Señorita Wilson.’

  Another woman stepped forward to place
a crown of orange blossom on Annalisa’s hair, while someone added a mantilla of ivory lace to float bewitchingly around her shoulders.

  ‘Thank you,’ Annalisa exclaimed, grasping hold of as many hands as she could reach. ‘You saved my wedding.’

  ‘You saved the finca,’ Maria Teresa countered, shooing her out of the door.

  Annalisa had expected to find Ramon at the church, but when Maria Teresa opened the door of the finca, he was there waiting for her in the courtyard. Dressed as a proud Castilian, and mounted on his prancing ebony stallion, his eyes grew stormy with passion when he caught sight of her in her wedding dress for the first time.

  Annalisa watched, mesmerised, as slowly he removed his broad-brimmed black hat and bowed low over Dardo’s sleek withers. But as her gaze strayed to the powerful thighs that held the stallion so firmly beneath him her breath caught in her throat to think of the moment when she would feel their steely pressure. And then she saw the barouche, decked out with bridal wreaths and ribbons. Even the gentle Andalucian mares had garlands of blossom looped through their bridles. And in place of the sour-faced chauffeur—

  ‘Enrique is ready!’ the impish tree surgeon declared, stabbing the air with his own battered traditional black hat.

  ‘Ready, Señorita Fuego Montoya?’ Maria Teresa demanded, reverting to the name everyone on the island believed was Annalisa’s due.

  ‘Ready,’ Annalisa confirmed, gazing up at Ramon.

  As she settled herself down onto the bank of white satin cushions their gazes locked. And in that moment she knew that she trusted him with all her heart and more… She trusted him with the life of their child.

  ‘Le adoro, Annalisa.’

  And as she heard his impassioned murmur reach her across the courtyard, Annalisa’s hand strayed to mould the gentle swelling of her belly.

  She knew then that the power of Ramon’s love was more telling than words, and infinitely more precious than diamonds.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8056-8

  A SPANISH INHERITANCE

  First North American Publication 2003.

  Copyright © 2003 by Susan Stephens.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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