by Lilac Mills
But to her surprise the lights didn’t go out. The electricity was still on when she went to bed, although she did turn everything off at that point, including her bedside lamp, because no matter how scared of being alone she was, she couldn’t sleep with the light on. Besides, she’d feel a bit of a baby if she didn’t, and with Paco snuggled up beside her on the bed, she was sure she’d be safe enough.
As she drifted off to sleep, she sent a goodnight thought to her mum and another to Hugo. Although she wasn’t a relative, the hospital had very kindly given her an update on his condition, and she’d been relieved to hear that the operation had gone well and that he was awake and had eaten some food. Or rather, that’s what she thought the person on the other end of the phone had said, because their English was a little difficult to understand. At least she could go to sleep knowing that Hugo was OK, and she was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.
That was her last thought before she drifted off, and she had no idea how long she’d been asleep when a noise woke her.
At first she lay there wondering if she’d actually heard the clang of the gates or if she’d dreamt it. But when the sound wasn’t repeated, she turned over, deciding she must have imagined it, and stretched out a hand to stroke Paco. The dog wasn’t there, so maybe she had heard something after all, and she tried to remember if she’d filled his water bowl before she went to bed. He had been known to give the metal dish a bang with his paw if it was empty, which would explain the clang—
Sophie froze; could she hear Paco growling?
Alert now, she sat up in bed, her eyes wide as she stared towards the bedroom door, trying to see if it was open. She’d definitely shut it before she’d climbed into bed, she recalled, but with the shutters closed, the inside of the villa was as dark as the underworld, and she couldn’t tell if Paco had pawed it open.
The dog growled again, low and menacing.
‘Paco,’ she hissed, wanting the reassurance of having him by her side, ‘Come here’ – but he ignored her.
Should she lie there and hope that whoever it was would go away, or should she be brave and go and investigate? Oh, God, she didn’t know what to do for the best.
A click of claws on tiles told her the dog was on the move and she strained to listen. Was that the sound of something in the lock? Someone was definitely outside the front door and it sounded as though they were trying to pick the lock.
Her heart hammering and her mouth dry, she reached out a trembling hand towards the lamp, hesitated, then withdrew it again. Switching the lamp on meant that she might be able to see whoever was breaking into the villa, but it also meant that the burglar would be able to see her. Maybe it was better to let Paco deal with the intruder? They wouldn’t know what had hit them when a huge black dog launched himself at them from the darkness.
But what if they were armed? Paco might be injured, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything were to happen to him because of her cowardice.
She reached out again, then stifled a yelp as a warm, wet tongue licked her cheek. ‘Paco!’ she hissed. How she wished she’d brought her phone into the bedroom, but she’d hardly used it since she’d moved into the villa and she wasn’t sure where she’d put it. It was around here somewhere…
Oh, God, she could have sworn the front door had just opened – it tended to squeak a little – but the noise might have come from her own throat as she sat there clutching the sheet to her chin, terror surging through her.
She was going to die, she simply knew it. Or worse—
A bang, then a muttered curse – ‘Mierda’. She knew what that meant, having heard Hugo say it every time he dropped his walking stick. Shit, indeed, she thought hysterically; shit, shit, shit—
There was someone just outside her bedroom; she could hear the rustle of their clothes and the faint sound of breathing, and she held her own breath, but her heart was thudding so loudly in her ears she was convinced the intruder must be able to hear it too.
Where the hell was the dog and why wasn’t he defending her? He could at least growl a warning. Perhaps he was just as scared, and the thought sent her pulse rocketing.
‘Argh!’
Sophie wasn’t sure who screamed the loudest as light flooded the room, her or the man standing in the doorway, one hand on the light switch, the other on his chest.
For a second neither of them moved and the only sound was Paco’s soft panting and the thump of his tail on the floor as he wagged it.
‘Get him, Paco,’ she urged, coming to life before the intruder managed to gather himself and attack her.
Paco continued to sit there, tongue out, looking far happier than he should do under the circumstances. She was about to get murdered in her bed and all the dog could do was wag his tail and grin?
Sophie shrank back against the pillows as the man squared his shoulders and took a step towards her, firing a string of Spanish at her. Oh, God, he looked familiar too, and she desperately prayed that she hadn’t seen his face on the news, being wanted for murder or something.
‘Get away from me!’ she shrieked. ‘Stay back, I’ve got a gun.’ To her immense surprise she found herself poking a finger under the sheet and pointing it in his direction. What the hell was she doing?
The man halted, a quizzical frown creasing his brow. ‘A gun,’ he repeated in English. He looked meaningfully at what was clearly a finger with a sheet draped over it.
Sophie looked down, then yanked her hand out from under the sheet and curled it into a fist. Her other hand still clutched the sheet to her chin. ‘I won’t go down without a fight,’ she warned him. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’
‘I doubt that,’ he said, taking another step into the room.
‘I warn you, I’m going to scream so loud…’
‘Go ahead,’ he offered. ‘Who do you think is going to hear you?’
She swallowed convulsively, all bravado abruptly draining away. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she said in a small voice as the reality of her situation sank in. He was right – the villa was too far away for anyone to hear her, however much noise she made, and she was no match for a man of his size. She tried not to whimper as she begged, ‘Take anything you want; my bag is by the sofa; the car keys are in the kitchen. Take it all, but please leave me alone.’
‘I’m not going to hurt you, and neither am I going to take anything.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. Please go away, just go away, she muttered silently to herself. ‘What do you want?’
‘A bed for the night, and to see my uncle. Why are you here, and more to the point, who the hell are you?’
‘You can’t sleep here,’ she blurted, then she paused. ‘Your uncle?’
‘Yes, my uncle, Hugo Santana Negrin. He does still live here, doesn’t he?’ Suddenly this strange man looked far less sure of himself. In fact, he looked decidedly worried. And she now knew where she’d seen him before, and she wished the ground would swallow her up because she’d just made a total fool of herself. But then again, he had to take part of the blame for that: it simply wasn’t right, breaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night and scaring them half to death. And he had the better part of a week’s worth of stubble on his face. He looked older too.
‘Hugo?’ he prompted as she sat there staring at him.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Er, yes, I know Hugo. This is his house.’
‘Okaay… does he still live here, or has he—’ The man blinked slowly and took a deep breath, then let it out – ‘rented it out to you?’
‘He still lives here.’
‘I see.’ He nodded slowly. ‘And you are…?’
‘Sophie Lakeland.’ She was still hanging onto the sheet for dear life, but at least now she wasn’t fearful that she was about to be murdered in her bed. ‘Are you Alejandro?’
‘I am. But your name means nothing to me. Are you sleeping with my uncle?’
Sophie blinked, taken aback both
by the idea and his bluntness. ‘Does it look like it?’ she demanded, indicating the empty space on the other side of the bed. The fact that Hugo’s bed was also empty tonight was neither here nor there.
‘No, but—’
‘How dare you suggest that anything improper is going on!’ Sophie had gone from petrified to incandescent with rage in the space of a heartbeat.
‘It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a question.’
‘I don’t care what it was! Just get out of my room. Go on, get out.’
‘I’m going, I’m going.’ He raised his hands, palms out. ‘I’ll go and speak to Hugo.’ And with that he turned on his heel and strode out of her bedroom.
Sophie fell back against the pillows with a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. No sooner had she made a move to get out of bed than he was back, clearly having discovered that Hugo wasn’t in his bed.
‘Where is he?’ Alejandro demanded. ‘What have you done with my uncle?’
‘I resent your tone and the insinuation. What the hell makes you think I’ve done anything with him?’ She was half in and half out of bed, and was very thankful that she’d worn her thick pyjamas tonight in anticipation of the encroaching storm.
‘Because you’re here and he’s not?’
‘The reason for that, if you’d care to ask and not jump to silly conclusions, is that he had his operation today and he’s in hospital.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘That’s OK, I accept your apology.’
‘I wasn’t apologising.’
‘Hmph! You should. It’s not nice to accuse people when you don’t know the facts.’
‘What operation?’
‘See, that’s what I mean. Now, do you mind getting out of my room and shutting the door? I need to get dressed.’
‘I haven’t finished talking yet.’
‘I have,’ she replied firmly. ‘Stick the kettle on. We’ll have a nice cup of tea, and you can apologise properly.’
He gave her an incredulous look, but he did as he was told, and she heard him stomp off down the hall, Paco following him.
‘Yeah, you were a great help,’ she muttered at the dog’s retreating back, then she dropped down onto the bed and blew out her cheeks. Crikey, that was an interesting few minutes, she thought. Thanks, Hugo. He might have warned her that his nephew was arriving.
He also might have warned her that the man who had scared her half to death was one of the most devastatingly handsome men she had ever set eyes on.
Chapter 13
‘I’m sorry,’ Alejandro said, as she warily sidled into the kitchen, wishing she’d taken the time to brush her hair, put on some make-up and a nice dress, shave her legs…
‘You really didn’t know Hugo was going in for an operation?’ she asked.
‘No. Is it serious?’
‘Hip replacement.’
‘Ah.’ The kettle came to the boil and switched itself off. Alejandro stared at her as she popped a couple of teabags into some mugs. ‘Tea? Really? That’s so—’
‘English?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I am English,’ she pointed out frostily. He might be as heart-stoppingly handsome as his photo had suggested, but she didn’t think he was all that bright. Or polite.
‘So I gather. When did he have the operation?’
‘Today.’ She checked the time on the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. ‘Yesterday,’ she amended.
‘How is he?’
‘It went well, and he had eaten something when I phoned,’ she told him.
‘Good, good. Can I ask you a question? Why are you here?’
‘Hugo needs someone to help around the house for a couple of months while he recuperates.’
‘I see,’ he said.
There was a pause.
Gosh, this was awkward, she thought, then something occurred to her. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s a strange time to be visiting.’
‘I’m not visiting. Not exactly. I am here because of work.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Actually, she didn’t. It was still the middle of the night. Couldn’t he have arrived in the morning, like any normal person?
‘It’s the middle of the night because I flew in from Iceland via Madrid and spent a couple of hours with my parents before catching a flight to Tenerife. There was a delay at Madrid airport; otherwise I’d have been here much earlier. I was trying to be quiet,’ he added. ‘Why are all the shutters closed? I thought the place had been abandoned.’
‘There’s a storm coming.’
He frowned, a crease forming between his brows. He looked sexy in a glowering kind of way. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
See, not too much going on in that pretty head of his… She thought she’d better explain. ‘The sky was a strange yellowy orange, like when the sky back home is full of snow. So I closed the shutters and got the candles out, just in case.’
‘It’s the calima,’ he said with a smile. ‘A wind which blows across the island from the west, carrying dust from the Sahara Desert. What you could see in the sky wasn’t clouds, but airborne particles. If the wind is strong enough it can blow Saharan dust right across the Atlantic to the Americas. It should clear in a couple of days, but if it gets really bad you might want to stay inside. Do you have asthma?’
‘No.’ She might have to revise her opinion of his intelligence, she decided, feeling a bit of an idiot. Perhaps he simply lacked basic social skills?
‘Then you should be OK,’ he told her.
‘Oh, good. Tea?’
‘I prefer coffee.’
‘Right.’ She removed a teabag from one of the mugs and set about making his drink, grateful for something else to focus on other than his handsome face and the way his T-shirt clung to his chest.
What the hell was the matter with her? Get a grip, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a good-looking guy before. Except this one had woken her in the middle of the night, had given her the fright of her life, and was now standing a few feet away from her, lounging against the kitchen worktop and looking like some sort of film star. Damn him.
She handed him his coffee and took a gulp of her tea, nearly burning her lips on the scalding liquid. ‘Work, you said?’
‘Yeah, there are, um, some things I need to check out.’
‘I see.’ She didn’t. ‘Where do you work?’
‘The Pacific Rim, mostly.’
She was none the wiser. It must be a bar or a club of some kind; it sounded like the sort of place that could be found in Playa de las Americas, where things were altogether much more lively than here. But why had he flown in from Iceland? She guessed he must have been on holiday. Although it wasn’t the sort of place she’d want to go for a week’s R & R, it did appeal to some people. And maybe Alejandro wanted a change from the usually balmy Canaries, and be on the receiving end of some truly cold weather.
‘You’ve come from Iceland? I bet it’s cold.’ Sophie bit her lip; she couldn’t believe she was talking about something as inane as the weather.
‘Just a bit, although it does get warm if you get too near a crater.’ He smiled, a quirky upturn of his lips.
‘Right.’ She had no idea what he was talking about. Was he making some kind of a joke? ‘What do you do, exactly?’
‘Oh, I assumed you knew.’ The smile disappeared and she could have sworn he looked embarrassed. ‘I’m a research scientist, a volcanologist.’
Sophie closed her eyes slowly, before opening them again as his words sank in. He didn’t work in Playa de las Americas, he probably hadn’t been on holiday in Iceland, and the crater he was talking about was a volcanic one.
This man, who had sneaked into the house in the middle of the night and who she’d begun to think of as a bit dumb, was probably one of the most intelligent people she’d ever met.
Who was the dumb one in this kitchen now?
She tried a different line o
f conversation. ‘Are you staying long?’
‘That depends on whether there’s a bed for me here. I usually sleep in the room you’re in.’
The thought of him laying his head on the very same bed as she’d just risen from made her feel a little funny. Nice funny, as in a bit warm and fuzzy.
‘Sorry… let me just… it won’t take me a moment to…’ Sophie put her mug down and glanced around frantically, wondering where to start. Should she just grab all the bedding off her bed (Alejandro’s bed) and do a quick swap? But what about all her things? She didn’t feel comfortable leaving her underwear in drawers he might use. Not that she thought he’d go rooting around in her knicker drawer… Oh, bugger.
‘There’s no need. I can sleep on the sofa,’ he said.
‘Oh, but—’
‘No buts. I wouldn’t dream of throwing you out of your bed.’
‘But—’
He held up a hand. ‘I’m serious. The sofa will be absolutely fine.’
‘There’s another bedroom,’ she blurted.
‘I know, but have you been in there? It’s full of stuff from the floor to the ceiling.’
Sophie allowed herself a smug smile. ‘Not anymore.’
Alejandro cocked his head to the side and gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Is that your doing?’
She nodded. ‘It won’t take me a moment to pop some sheets on the bed.’
‘That’s OK, I can make up my own bed.’ His gaze roamed around the spotless kitchen. ‘I take it you’re responsible for this too?’
‘Yes.’
There was an awkward silence. At least, Sophie felt awkward; she wasn’t sure how Alejandro felt. He did look perfectly at home, though, and she wondered how often he visited Hugo.
‘Erm, Alejandro, when will you be going back to Iceland?’ she asked.
‘Call me Alex, everyone does. And that depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On… stuff. Things.’ He looked at everything and anything but her, and she began to think that maybe he was running away from something, like a relationship. Or perhaps he was in trouble at work. He seemed rather reluctant to go into detail, and she narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what kind of trouble he might be in.