Master of El Corazon (Harlequin Presents)

by Sandra Marton

  The drifter who’d helped Edgar Lithgow snatch away everything she’d worked so hard to attain wasn’t a drifter at all.

  He was Conor Martinez, the master of El Corazon.

  She wanted to say something, say anything, to assert herself, but all she seemed able to do was stare at him as he walked towards her. The white duck trousers and pale blue shirt had given way to a grey wool suit, white shirt, striped silk tie, and shoes that bore the deep, dark lustre of fine leather. But there was no mistaking the hard-as-emerald glint of those eyes, the handsome face, the aggressive stride.

  ‘What are you doing in this house?’ he demanded.

  ‘I—I...’ Arden touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘I work here.’

  ‘That’s damned well not what I mean, and you know it.’ He slammed the door after him and strode towards her, his footsteps loud as heartbeats against the tiled floor. ‘I want to know how you wormed your way into my uncle’s employ.’

  Arden stared at him helplessly. The shock of seeing him, of learning his identity, was overwhelming. He was directly in front of her now, towering over her, or at least that was how it seemed, that same harsh look of accusation in his eyes as there’d been that horrible night in her hotel room.

  What was the matter with her? She was letting it happen again, letting this awful man intimidate her. But he wasn’t going to get away with it this time. No, she thought, her spine stiffening, he certainly was not!

  ‘It must be wonderful to be you,’ she said, her voice cool and calm, in contrast to the slam of her heart against her ribs. Her chin lifted so that she was looking straight into his narrowed eyes. She forced a smile to her lips. ‘So few of us go through life, secure in the knowledge we’re always right—you’re such a fortunate man, señor.’

  His mouth thinned. ‘When I ask a question, I expect an answer.’

  ‘And I gave you one.’

  ‘Let’s try again, Miss Miller,’ he said, very softly. ‘How did you insinuate yourself into this household?’

  Arden glared at him. ‘That’s not a question, it’s an accusation.’

  ‘When Linda told me my uncle had hired a gringa named Arden Miller, I thought it had to be some sort of joke. “I know this woman,” I said, “and she is no more a nurse than—”’

  ‘Your uncle hired me to be his companion.’

  ‘Why are you wasting time, Conor?’ Linda said sharply. ‘Just tell the woman to pack her things and get out.’

  ‘I want some answers first,’ he said, his eyes still fixed on Arden. ‘And Miss Miller is not leaving until I get them.’

  ‘I don’t owe you any answers!’

  ‘I want to know how you wormed your way into this house.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Arden pushed past him and strode to the centre of the room. ‘I didn’t “worm” my way in anywhere,’ she said angrily. ‘I found out that Senor Romero was looking for a companion, and—’

  ‘And you saw a golden opportunity. An old man—wealthy, lonely, ill...’ A cruel smile twisted across his lips. ‘Perfect for your kind of woman!’

  Colour flooded Arden’s cheeks. ‘That’s a lie!’

  ‘I speak the truth and you know it.’ His gaze swept over her with deliberate insolence, lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, then lifted to her flushed face. ‘I can hardly blame my uncle for being taken in, Miss Miller. The last time we met, it was much easier to see your—assets. But I must admit, even clothed, you are enticing.’

  Linda Vasquez gasped. ‘Conor?’ she said, ‘what are you talking about?’

  ‘You have no right to say such things,’ Arden said furiously. ‘You don’t know the first thing about me.’

  ‘I know all I need to know. You’re a woman who lives by her wits...’ he laughed mirthlessly ‘... and the other qualities she possesses.’

  ‘And you’re a liar and a bully!’

  Conor’s brows rose. ‘I’d almost forgotten how good you are,’ he said. ‘Your talent for turning your victim into the villain is truly remarkable.’ The laughter fled his face instantly, like a chalk drawing wiped from a slate. ‘But it won’t save you now, Miss Miller. I’ve seen your act before, and I’m impervious to it. Unfortunately, Uncle Felix isn’t.’

  ‘Your concern for your uncle is touching, Senor Martinez.’ Arden folded her arms across her breasts. ‘Of course, if you really felt any concern for him, he wouldn’t need a companion in the first place.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, your uncle needs someone to keep him company, to read to him and chat with him, but since neither you or Señorita Vasquez give him the time—’

  ‘—you offered to make up for those deprivations.’ Conor’s lips curled in a sarcastic smile. ‘Out of the kindness and generosity of your heart, no doubt.’

  Arden flushed. ‘I did it because I need a job, thanks to you.’

  ‘Because if I hadn’t come along to spoil your plans at the hotel, you’d have got what you wanted.’

  ‘Because the man you so gallantly defended that night,’ she said, her eyes blazing, ‘fired me from my job after you’d helped him make me look like—like—’

  ‘Of course he did. After the little trick you tried to play, he’d have been a fool not to.’

  ‘The point is,’ Arden said coldly, ‘that I took this job in good faith, and your uncle is satisfied with me.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ She looked up sharply but there was no discernible change to his expression. He smiled politely as he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Go on, Miss Miller. You were telling us what it is you do for my uncle.’

  Arden hesitated, her eyes searching his face. Was there a chance he might suddenly have decided to listen to reason? He was watching her calmly, as if he were truly interested in what she was going to say. Well, what was there to lose? she thought, and took a breath.

  ‘I take him for walks in the garden,’ she said. ‘He’s been explaining his orchid collection to me—’

  ‘Really.’

  Was there more in that single word than it at first seemed? No, perhaps not. He was still watching her politely, smiling almost gently.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quickly. She smiled a little, too. ‘I like flowers, you see, and—’

  ‘Is that all you do, then? Wheel Uncle’s chair into the garden and listen while he describes each of his five hundred orchids in lengthy detail?’

  Arden stiffened. There was something in his voice, she could hear it; he was—

  ‘Well? I’m waiting, Miss Miller. What else do you do for my uncle?’

  ‘I talk with him,’ she said slowly, her eyes on his. ‘We discuss books and films. We talk politics and—’

  Conor laughed. ‘Politics? You?’

  Arden’s cheeks flamed. ‘Your uncle says I’ve brought the world to his door, and—’

  ‘But you would, wouldn’t you? Worldliness is one of your greatest virtues—although “virtue” is a word that doesn’t quite describe your talents.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  The breath hissed between Arden’s teeth as she spun towards him, her hand upraised. Conor caught it easily and forced it down to her side.

  ‘You tried that once before, remember?’

  ‘I remember everything about that night!’ Tears of anger rose in her eyes and she twisted free of his hand. ‘I should have guessed what sort of man you were the minute I laid eyes on you.’

  ‘But you did,’ he said coldly. ‘You decided that I didn’t have a dollar in my pocket, which meant I wasn’t worth the time of day.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean and you know it! I’m talking about the way you behaved when you came to my room, about—’

  ‘Conor, por favor, what is this all about?’ Linda’s face was pale, her dark eyes enormous as she crossed the room to his side. ‘Do you and this—this woman have some sort of relationship?’

  ‘Just the opposite, querida,’ he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. ‘Miss
Miller wanted nothing to do with me the last time we met.’ His smile faded as he looked at Arden. ‘I suspect she’d have treated me much more generously if she’d known who I was.’

  ‘I know who you are now,’ Arden said coldly. ‘And my opinion remains the same. You’re an arrogant, narrow-minded, conceited, egotistical son of a—’

  ‘You are not in the United States now, Miss Miller,’ Conor said sharply. ‘I advise you to watch your tongue.’

  It was probably a good idea, Arden thought, glaring back at him. It was easy to see that he was angry. No. Not angry. He was furious, although he was managing to keep that fury tightly leashed. But the fire in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw betrayed him, and somehow that control was more frightening than another man’s rantings would have been.

  But she would not let him see her fright. She was done letting him push her around, letting him twist her life to suit his own distorted view of who she was.

  She stepped forward, her head up, a smile of disdain on her lips for him and everything he represented.

  ‘You’re damned right we’re not in the States, Señor Martinez. If we were, you wouldn’t dare behave this way!

  Women have rights in my part of the world.’

  ‘Women such as you have never had any rights but those men choose to give them.’ Conor’s gaze swept over her again, his blazing eyes all but stripping the clothing from her body. ‘You have five minutes to pack your things and get out. If you don’t—’

  ‘If I don’t?’ she said brazenly.

  ‘The decision to call the police won’t be yours this time, it will be mine. And don’t, for a moment, doubt that I will do it.’

  Arden laughed. ‘The police! Really! What will you charge me with? Failure to be humble enough to suit the Master of El Corazon?’

  ‘My nephew is not the master of this finca! The little group swung around. The library doors had been flung open; as they watched, Felix Romero propelled his wheelchair into the hall. His cane lay at an angle across his lap. ‘Not yet, at any rate!’ The old man scowled as he wheeled himself forward. ‘What is going on here?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CONOR stepped forward, shouldering past Arden as he made his way towards Felix. He smiled pleasantly, as if neither his voice nor anyone else’s had only seconds before been raised in anger.

  ‘Uncle Felix,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry we disturbed you. How are you feeling?’

  The old man’s white eyebrows drew together. ‘You needn’t bother putting on this performance for Miss Miller’s sake, Conor. I’ve told her how things really are between us.’

  Conor’s smile didn’t waver. ‘I see your spirits are as good as ever.’

  ‘And what a disappointment that must be, nephew. I’m sure you’d prefer to find me less capable of defying you each time you visit El Corazon.’

  Conor sighed. ‘You know that I come here as often as possible. If you’d agree to let me move you to my home in Caracas—’

  ‘Yes, that’s just what you want, isn’t it, that I leave El Corazon so you can snatch it from me!’ Felix rolled his chair forward. ‘That’s never going to happen, Conor, I promise you!’

  ‘That’s nonsense and you know it.’

  ‘It is not nonsense.’

  ‘There’s no reason to argue,’ Conor said softly, ‘and surely not in front of a stranger.’

  ‘If you mean Miss Miller—’ Felix reached out and took Arden’s hand. ‘This young woman is no stranger to me. She is more like a daughter.’

  Linda made a little sound of protest and Conor put his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘How delightful,’ he said, giving Arden a cold look. ‘And after so short a time. Miss Miller is a very fast worker.’

  ‘She is more concerned for my welfare than either of you have ever been,’ Felix snapped. His fingers tightened on Arden’s. ‘Do you see what it is I must put up with, under my own roof?’

  Arden looked from Felix’s angry face to Conor’s stony one. She, of all people, knew that it was wrong to make quick judgements, but where Conor Martinez was concerned there was little room for doubt. Each run-in with him only did more to convince her that he was an impossibly arrogant bastard who expected the world to dance to his tune.

  Still, she was uncomfortable being witness to this family war, especially since both men seemed determined to draw her into it. She withdrew her hand from Felix’s and smiled uncertainly.

  ‘Perhaps I should leave you alone to talk,’ she said softly.

  ‘Talk? Talk?’ Felix banged his cane against the floor. ‘There is nothing to talk about, Miss Miller. Despite my nephew’s best efforts, I am still in charge of this house.’ He swung his chair towards Conor, who was leaning back against the door-jamb, his feet crossed at the ankle, his arms folded over his chest, looking as insolent as he had the first time Arden had laid eyes on him in San José. ‘Did I hear you correctly, Conor? Did you tell this young woman to leave?’

  ‘I did.’

  Felix’s face darkened. ‘On whose authority?’

  Conor leaned away from the wall and walked to his uncle’s side. ‘Uncle Felix,’ he said softly, ‘please listen to me.’ He squatted down beside the wheelchair, took Felix’s hand between his, and looked into his face. Arden’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he really did care for the old man. ‘How can I convince you that my only concern is for your welfare?’

  ‘You have never been concerned for my welfare!’

  Conor sighed. ‘I know this woman has somehow convinced you she’s properly qualified for this position, but—’

  Arden’s patience snapped. ‘Stop talking about me as if I were invisible,’ she said angrily. ‘I didn’t convince your uncle of anything! In fact, I didn’t even want this job!’

  ‘Really.’ Conor rose to his feet and gave her a quick, dangerous smile. ‘You mean you were kidnapped and brought here under duress.’

  Arden’s lip curled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘Miss Miller had doubts about me, as I had about her,’ Felix said, wheeling his chair forward. ‘But we agreed to set those doubts aside and try a temporary arrangement.’

  ‘Yes.’ Conor’s eyes glinted with barely suppressed anger. ‘She’s quite good at temporary arrangements.’

  ‘Conor, you are to stop this nonsense at once! Miss Miller is an excellent companion. She is not leaving.’

  ‘She is. I’ll find you someone else.’

  Felix snapped his hand on the arm of his wheelchair. ‘No one else will be as well suited to this position!’

  ‘Miss Miller is suited to a great many things,’ Conor said sharply, ‘but playing at being your companion is not one of them.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Arden’s cry of rage exploded into the room. She strode forward and stood between the two men, her eyes flashing. ‘I am not a—a bundle of laundry to be argued over!’ She slapped her hands on to her hips and glared at Conor. ‘You’ve done nothing but interfere in my life since the minute I first saw you, and I’m damned tired of it! As for you, señor,’ she said, swinging around to face Felix, ‘as for you—I’m glad you enjoy my company, but in all this battling over whether I’m to stay or to go you’ve neglected to once ask me if I’d even want to stay in a house where I’m so obviously unwelcome!’

  A moment of silence followed her outburst, and then Felix shot his nephew a triumphant smile.

  ‘Such spirit,’ he said admiringly. ‘Where would you find me a companion her equal?’

  Conor thrust his hand into his hair and brushed it back from his forehead. ‘I don’t know,’ he growled. ‘But I will, I promise you. Until then, Linda can keep you company. Isn’t that right, Linda?’

  Linda Vasquez swallowed drily as she looked from one man to the other. ‘Of course,’ she said, after a moment, ‘I—uh—I’d be delighted.’

  The old man snorted. ‘And what will we discuss? The latest gossip from Miami? The news on the coutur
ier front?’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘What a wonderful idea.’

  Linda smiled brightly. ‘We can talk about more than that, Papa.’

  Felix scowled. ‘I am not your Papa. You were three when I met your mother. How could I be your Papa?’

  ‘I only meant—’

  ‘Tell me, my devoted stepdaughter, who is your favourite poet?’

  The brunette’s dark eyebrows drew together. ‘I—ah—I’m not really much for—’

  ‘Your favourite writer, then. Whom do you prefer, among contemporary authors?’

  Linda swallowed. ‘Well, actually, I—ah—I—’

  ‘And what would you think of the proliferation of nuclear power plants?’

  Linda turned to Conor, her face reddening. ‘This is nonsense,’ she said. ‘Tell him to stop!’

  Felix spun the wheels of his chair until he was facing Arden. ‘Have you a favourite poet, Miss Miller?’

  ‘Señor Romero, please. Thank you for defending me, but I think it’s time I went upstairs and packed my things.’ She gave Conor a withering look. ‘Believe me, if I’d known who this man was, I’d never have bothered to—’

  ‘Answer the question,’ Felix snapped. ‘Who is your favourite poet?’

  Arden blew out her breath. ‘Emily Dickinson,’ she said impatiently. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, señor—’

  Romero’s mouth twitched. ‘A third-rate romantic, Miss Miller, with a penchant for melancholy.’

  Arden frowned. ‘I don’t agree. Dickinson’s lines are spare but they’re filled with passion.’

  The old man nodded. ‘And what of the use of nuclear energy, Miss Miller? Do you agree with me that it will solve the problem of the declining supply of fossil fuel?’

  ‘Yes—but then we’ll have other problems to deal with.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Linda clucked her tongue. ‘Honestly,’ she said, throwing out her arms, ‘who cares about such nonsense? This has nothing to do with—’

  ‘Only lily-livered fools are afraid of nuclear energy,’ Felix said smugly.

  Arden looked at him. ‘That’s ridiculous, señor. Any sensible person knows that nuclear waste is—’ Her words trailed to silence and she flushed. ‘Your stepdaughter is right,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can’t see what this has to do with anything!’