In the Brazilian's Debt

by Susan Stephens

  ‘The clock’s ticking,’ he warned, gritting out each word.

  He rested against the wall, thinking back to when he’d been a youth and an easy target for two cheats with their eyes on the money of his sponsor, Eduardo Delgardo. Lies about him forcing himself on Serena Fane, Lizzie’s mother, had tripped so easily off their tongues. Even Eduardo had been hard-pressed to defend him, though the older man had remained his staunchest defender throughout, and had explained, once they were safely back in Brazil, that Lizzie’s grandmother had discovered the truth about the life her son and his wife were leading, and that when they used Chico to try and get money out of Eduardo, it was the last straw for the old lady, who had disinherited her son, and banished both him and his wife from Rottingdean House. Unfortunately, by this time, Lord and Lady Fane had stolen all her money.

  For a man to steal money from his mother was incomprehensible to Chico, but he had soon realised that men like Lizzie’s father had no conscience. And now that man’s daughter was here on a scholarship, working towards a diploma, which he would award? You couldn’t make it up.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ he snarled as the past blinded him with an angry red mist. He’d waited long enough. Switching on the overhead light, he bathed them both in stark white light, and, lifting the latch, he walked in.

  * * *

  The man she’d called her friend was right behind her. Smouldering, powerful, different. The Deceiver. The Liar. The youth who had told her that he understood how it must be for her living at Rottingdean House with parents who ignored her, and had promised to take her away. He had failed to deliver on that promise, and her forgiving nature was out of the door. Her body responded eagerly to the hard man of polo before she’d even turned around, but her thoughts were filled with anger and disappointment in the man she had once believed was her friend.

  She would have to master those feelings, if she was going to complete the course, Lizzie told herself firmly. And with a muttered apology, she straightened up and turned around.

  Light shimmered around Chico, pointing up his darkness. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. His glittering menace had never seemed more pronounced. As she had first suspected when she caught a glimpse of him on the plane, Chico was vastly changed. This wasn’t the ridiculously good-looking youth with the easy smile and relaxed manner, but a hard, driven man, whom life had made suspicious, a man with single-minded determination that had taken Chico Fernandez to the top. That didn’t stop her body burning with lust. Her reaction to him was primal. She had no defence against it. Her mind was scrambled, and yet she was acutely aware of him. Forbidden fruit had never looked this good.

  All the more reason to keep her head down and get back to the job, Lizzie reasoned. There were always things to do in the stable, and she was here to accomplish something crucial for the future of Rottingdean, not to rehash the mistakes of the past. She might never be exactly sure what had happened all those years ago, but she knew what she had to do to secure the future of Rottingdean now, and make things right for everyone who worked on the estate, and that didn’t include falling like some heartsick teenager for a man who had proved conclusively that he cared nothing for her.

  * * *

  Lizzie was bending over with her back to him, loading pots of salve and rolls of bandage into a carrying case. His glance swept over her. Lizzie Fane was all grown up. Long limbs, slender frame, generous hips, and still the same bright red wavy hair, longer than he remembered, and carelessly swept back and bundled into a glowing topknot with strands and curls escaping everywhere. He closed his mind to her attractions, and ground his jaw as the seconds ticked by. The least she could do was acknowledge her boss.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, sounding not the least bit repentant, and looking even less so. ‘I had to finish what I was doing.’

  He hummed as heat ripped through him, and it was a surprise to find the connection between them was as strong as ever, even after all this time. Once they had been drawn together by mutual curiosity—two people from very different backgrounds, both outsiders in their own way, with only horses in common, but now it was a hot-blooded man, and a beautiful, if icy woman, weighing each other up like prize-fighters from opposite sides of the ring.

  ‘It’s good to see you again,’ Lizzie announced in a businesslike way.

  He replied to this with a steady look. The connection might be there, but they were strangers, he thought, and the steel in Lizzie’s eyes intrigued him. She had always been a tomboy, but there was something in her expression now that suggested she was still hurting because he’d let her down by leaving Rottingdean House all those years ago without saying goodbye. Had he meant so much to her?

  When he was least expecting it, she relaxed and smiled. ‘I’m really pleased to be here.’

  Now he was confused. What was he to believe? Lizzie with a grudge? Or Lizzie, the student determined to impress? She had always been good at hiding her feelings. She’d had to be. There was only one certainty here. The power of her stunning emerald gaze had hit him like a punch in the gut.

  What was wrong with him? He shook her hand, and now he didn’t want to let her go? To feel her hand in his grip, so small, so slender, so cool, had made him want to ask her straight out: what happened to you? To us? Worse, he had to fight the crazy impulse to drag her close and kiss her hard.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Lizzie,’ he said finally with commendable restraint.

  ‘It has,’ she agreed coolly. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I had to be sure I’d picked everything up, and that Flame was properly settled for the night.’

  He inspected the work she’d done on the horse. She’d done a good job, but not good enough to meet his exacting standards. He’d pulled Lizzie’s report from her college. She’d passed out top of her class, which was why she had been awarded the scholarship to train under him at Fazenda Fernandez. He remembered her grandmother telling him that Lizzie needed something to lose herself in. He had understood immediately that Lizzie found the affection denied her by her parents from the horses she cared for, because he’d found that same solace, but what was driving her now?

  ‘Well, if that’s all?’ she said pleasantly.

  She waited patiently for him to move out of the way. She had inherited none of the supercilious qualities of her parents, he noted, but her eyes were wounded. The past had damaged them both, but why had she chosen to believe her parents’ lies over him? The answer came to him as they stared at each other. However a child was misled or mistreated, they never gave up hope of winning the love of their parent, even if that parent was incapable of giving love.

  ‘You have a wonderful facility here, Senhor Fernandez. I’m thrilled to have been given the opportunity to train here.’

  She was close enough to touch, to kiss, to reassure...

  ‘And we’re very glad to have you here,’ he replied in the same measured tone. ‘You come with an excellent recommendation from your college.’

  She smiled in response to this, and tension crackled all around them, making him wonder if they would ever be easy with each other again.

  ‘Anyway, thank you,’ she said, breaking the spell as she hefted her belongings into a more comfortable position. ‘I really do appreciate the chance you’ve given me.’

  ‘My selection team did that. Everything I do here is in honour of my sponsor, Eduardo. You do remember Eduardo?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’ For a moment her confident mask slipped. ‘I was very sorry to hear of his passing. I read quite a lot about him before I came here.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘When you both came to Rottingdean I just knew him as a leading polo player in Brazil. What I didn’t realise was that Eduardo had devoted himself to providing education for children from deprived backgrounds.’

  ‘Children like me?’

  ‘Yes.’ She held
his gaze, unflinching. ‘I don’t say that to offend you, Senhor Fernandez.’

  ‘I appreciate your honesty, Senhorita Fane.’

  She slanted him a thoughtful look and almost smiled again. ‘I guess Eduardo got lucky with you.’

  ‘There are many deserving children,’ he argued sharply as their hopeful faces flashed into his mind.

  Lizzie blushed bright red. ‘I realise that—I didn’t mean...I just meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant. You’re wondering how I can afford all this?’ Not by cheating like Lizzie’s parents, that was for sure.

  ‘No,’ she protested, and for the first time he thought he saw the real Lizzie, rather than the girl who was trying to please her boss. ‘It makes perfect sense to me. With your natural talent you were always bound to succeed.’

  ‘And you also realised that success such as mine pays well?’ he pressed, thinking of her mother and wondering if Lizzie had inherited any of Serena’s acquisitive traits.

  ‘Your financial success is well documented,’ she defended, her cheeks pinking up again beneath his suspicious stare.

  Was she after a slice of the pie? ‘Hard work and straight dealing is my only secret.’

  ‘And a sponsor like Eduardo,’ she suggested, that steel he’d seen before returning to her gaze.

  Even now, hearing Eduardo’s name coming from a member of the Fane family’s lips grated on him, though he had to admit that the fact Lizzie had no problem speaking up for herself was to her credit. Her parents had always delivered their barbs from a safe distance.

  ‘I’m in awe of the legacy Eduardo Delgardo left behind, and I don’t just mean his money,’ she explained. ‘He inspired so many people with his good works, including me.’

  Her steady gaze convinced him that in this, at least, Lizzie Fane was being totally honest.

  ‘I should go to supper now. My friend’s expecting me—’ She started to move past him.

  He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and stood in her way. ‘You bandaged him?’

  ‘Yes?’ Her concern was obvious.

  ‘Put your things down outside the stable, and come back in here.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Back in here,’ he repeated.

  He was already hunkering down to check the poultice when she returned to the stall. Apart from wanting to show Lizzie how her bandaging technique could be improved, and disregarding the obvious questions jostling in his mind, he was intrigued by this new Lizzie. Forget intrigue. He wanted her. In the past he had put her on a pedestal and wouldn’t have touched her. But now...

  CHAPTER THREE

  COULDN’T THIS WAIT? There were classes tomorrow. What did Chico really want? He was such a compelling presence he made her feel tongue-tied. Her lips felt wooden and when she tried to speak her voice sounded hoarse. Seeing him again after all these years had completely thrown her. Had she really thought she was ready for this? Just because Chico Fernandez had been the stuff of her fantasies throughout all her teenage years, didn’t mean she knew him. She was keenly aware that she didn’t know him, not now, which was why she felt so awkward around him—and nothing could dilute the impact of a man dressed in nothing more than a pair of banged-up jeans and a black top that showed off his impressive muscles, who had turned from an attractive youth into the hottest thing on two powerful male legs.

  ‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said, finding it hard to breathe suddenly.

  ‘Not overly so,’ Chico replied. ‘The temperature in here is controlled.’

  Unlike her heart, she thought, feeling the effects of being trapped in a small stall with so much undiluted sex. Chico’s physical presence was overwhelming. Shoulders broad enough to hoist an ox, stomach flat, waist slim, from all his exercise on horseback—and, when he was hunkered down like this, a grandstand view of the tightest butt on earth. Added to which, a heavy-duty leather belt was drawing her gaze where it definitely shouldn’t wander. And his face—if Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Chico Fernandez could launch a thousand erotic fantasies. He looked so stern, but his mouth was the mouth of a sensualist, and she loved his sharp black stubble. She had always loved his thick, wild black hair—

  What was she thinking? She wasn’t a naïve girl now, daydreaming in the stables at Rottingdean. She was a woman with a goal, who had won a scholarship to Brazil, and who couldn’t afford to be distracted. What must she look like to Chico? Hot, sweaty, and grubby— Quite suddenly, she didn’t have confidence in anything—not in herself, or her work, or in her future. This wasn’t the youth she had made a friend of all those years ago. This was Chico Fernandez, acknowledged equine expert—and expert between the sheets too, she had no doubt; a man with testosterone flying off him like white-hot shards that pierced her body with sensation until she couldn’t think. Chico was said to be a man’s man; a lone wolf who ruled his territory like a feudal lord. Was she here to take him on? Was she going to suck him dry?

  ‘Not a bad job,’ he remarked, glancing up at her.

  ‘Really?’ The last thing she had been expecting from him was words of praise.

  ‘But not good enough for the standards we set here. That’s why you’ve come to train at Fazenda Fernandez, isn’t it, Lizzie?’

  There was a flash of suspicion in his eyes, and for a moment she had no idea why she was here, only that she was mad to have come. Echoes from the past came back to haunt her—snatches of conversation, that she had barely understood as a young teen.

  ‘Are you listening, Lizzie? If you don’t pay attention, you’ll learn nothing.’

  She shook herself round. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘If you intend to stay on here and complete the training—’

  ‘I will complete the training.’

  Chico’s eyes sparked as he sprang up to confront her. A clash of wills was the last thing she had intended, but she had never learned how to admit defeat, and she was determined to achieve all her goals here, including keeping Chico Fernandez at arm’s length.

  She regretted her outburst when she saw Chico’s expression turn cold. She would have to keep her feelings closely guarded in future.

  ‘You will attend my tutorial here, tomorrow morning, at six a.m. sharp,’ he said without a hint of warmth.

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  Her best guess was, Chico didn’t think she’d last the course, and he was notorious for failing students who didn’t make the grade. There were no second chances—except for Danny, who had somehow managed to get her heart broken by a polo player, and had been allowed to go home and restart this year.

  From confronting him, she was thrown back into pleading her cause. ‘I just want to do my best for every horse.’

  ‘I would expect nothing less of one of my students.’

  He moved at the same time she did. They almost collided in the middle of the stall. He was close enough for her to smell the soap on his skin and the sunshine in his clothes, and the warmth of his impossibly powerful body, which was far, far, far too close for safety. Some of the buttons on his shirt were open, revealing tanned, hard-muscled skin—

  ‘When you’re ready?’

  Chico’s voice was low and strummed her senses as she moved aside. He held her fate in the palm of his hand, yet her body was melting with want, which was insane, and absolutely the last thing she needed. She had to keep a clear head if she was going to achieve anything here, and being reduced to a mass of hormones was hardly going to help her do that.

  ‘Don’t let me keep you from your supper.’

  There was a faint mocking note in his voice as if he knew the effect his brutal masculinity could have on even the most reluctant target.

  ‘Until tomorrow at six a.m.,’ she confirmed, taking care to keep her voice on the pleasant side of neutral.

  She left the stall in a rush, and didn’t stop until
she reached the tack room, where she stowed the medical supplies and then leaned back with her eyes closed and her body pressed up hard against the cool wall until finally she could breathe.

  On her way from the courtyard to the cookhouse, she wished she could bind her breasts, or become a boy—lose these feelings, anyway. How was she supposed to stay here with so many dangerous fantasies in her head? She’d thought she’d got it all worked out and would be prepared for seeing Chico again. Not even close. Seeing him again had only confused her more. His eyes had assessed her, warmed her and heated her blood to the point where all she could think about was sex. And there was no way on earth she would ever sleep with him. Boss and groom was bad enough, tutor and student was forbidden territory, but everything that had happened in the past—all those rumours—made her thoughts taboo. And even if the past hadn’t stood between them—Chico Fernandez and Lizzie Fane? It could never happen. He was successful, famous, and rich, and she was no one. The only reason she was here was because she’d won a scholarship, and because her grandmother had insisted Lizzie must take up that scholarship, because an endorsement from Chico Fernandez was second to none.

  And how did Chico feel about that?

  Lizzie’s heart thundered with apprehension. If she didn’t make the grade, or he threw her out, who would save Rottingdean then?

  ‘Hey—wait up. You forgot something...’

  She turned, and her heart went into overdrive when she saw the grubby top she’d discarded in the stall, hanging from the tip of Chico’s finger.

  ‘Rule one,’ he said, strolling up to her. ‘Never leave anything in a stable that could harm your horse.’

  She was mortified. She never did. She never had before. She’d slung the top over the top of the partition between the stalls, meaning to take it with her.

  Seeing Chico again had knocked everything out of her head. The sheer force of his personality swamped her as she took the top. Chico Fernandez was one of life’s primal forces, while she must look like the primmest thing on earth to him in her crisp white blouse, with its ironed and starched Peter Pan collar, her fresh-out-of-the-box sneakers, and her neatly pressed jeans. She had loved the outfit when she first put it on, because it was a parting gift from her grandmother. To bring her luck, Lizzie’s grandmother had said. And she still loved the clothes, but she had to admit they were more garden party than gaucho. Almost in defiance of that, her nipples were tightening and her heart was thundering out of control. She grabbed the chance to take a deep, calming breath as he paused to turn and talk to one of his fellow polo players.