“He is very expensive.”
“And I am very rich,” Jake said coldly.
Estes chuckled. “Rich, and hard-headed. The same as your father.”
“I told you—”
“You will spend years trying to break this will, senhor, and you will not succeed. You will never know the names of your half-brothers. I regret this, but it is as your—as my client wished.”
Jake glared at the other man but he knew he was right. Even Marin had told him as much during the hour they’d talked on the phone yesterday.
Estes seemed to sense that Jake was weakening. “How difficult could it be, Senhor Ramirez, to watch over this girl for two short months? She is a child, and she has spent eight years in a convent.”
“You’ve met her?”
“Certainly.”
“And?”
Estes mentally crossed his fingers. “And she is what one would expect.” It wasn’t an out and out lie. The girl was precisely what one would expect, if one expected a spitfire mated to a whirlwind.
“If I were to agree,” Jake said, emphasizing the “if,” “what would I have to do? Pay her school bills? Send her birthday cards until she’s eighteen? I have no idea what a guardian does.”
“Well, for starters, you should know she already is eighteen.”
Jake cocked his head. “She’s eighteen? Then why does she need a guardian?”
“You won’t be her guardian. Not exactly.” Estes cleared his throat and reached into an open file drawer. “Perhaps it would be best if you read the pertinent clause yourself.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. Things were more complicated than Estes wanted to admit. What was going on here?
“I’m American,” he said coldly. “I don’t read or speak Portuguese.”
“I’ve had the document translated into English, senhor. Read it, please, and then we can talk.”
Jake took the will. He read what Estes indicated. After a minute, he looked up.
“This is insane.”
“I’m afraid not. Senhor Ramirez was perfectly competent when he insisted the clause giving you this responsibility be included in his will.”
“The girl is twenty-one?”
“As of today, yes.”
“And I’m supposed to…” Jake found the clause. “I’m supposed to ‘nurture and protect her, introduce her to polite society and to men of good character and excellent means, and see to it that she marries such a man within two months’?” He stared at the lawyer. “Of course it’s insane.”
“It is the only means by which you will gain the information you want, senhor.” Estes rose to his feet. “Shall we go to the convent so you can meet the girl?”
Jake flung Enrique’s will to the floor. “I’d tell you where you can go,” he said grimly, “except I know this is Enrique Ramirez’s work, not yours. Goodbye, Senhor Estes.”
“Good-day, Senhor Ramirez,” Estes said.
He was already talking to an empty room—but Joaquim Ramirez would be back. Enrique had baited his trap well.
What man could resist the lure of discovering his true identity and his place in the world?
Less than three hours later, the two men were in a black SUV Jake had rented, approaching the closed iron gates of a building that looked like a medieval fortress.
“I am pleased you changed your mind,” Estes said politely.
Jake grunted as he brought the SUV to a stop and beeped the horn. Changed his mind? That was a nice way of putting it. What else could he do? Rage had driven him from the advogado’s office. Common sense had brought him back.
A hand from the grave had him by the cojones, although that probably wasn’t the right word in Portuguese.
Portuguese. Was that the only language the girl spoke? He hadn’t thought to ask. He hadn’t even asked Estes her name.
“Your ward’s name,” Estes said, as if he’d read Jake’s mind, “is Catarina. Catarina Elena Teresa Mendes.”
“Does she speak English?”
“I don’t know.”
That could be a problem, but he could always hire a translator. Jake tapped the horn again.
“And she understands what’s going to happen? She accepts it? Because an American girl would laugh in your face if you told her she was going to be a stranger’s ward for the two months it takes him to find her a husband.”
“The girl has been raised as a Brazilian, not as an American.”
“I know. I only meant—Well, never mind. She’s accepted this, right?”
“I told you, she is precisely what one would expect her to be.”
Jake nodded. He didn’t like the trap he was in but at least Catarina Mendes wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t know much about girls her age…
Well, yeah. He did. Samantha had just turned twenty-two. That was what the sapphire bracelet had been all about. But that was different. Sam was a woman of the world. For all intents and purposes, Catarina was still a child.
An old man tottered up to the gates, opened the lock and stepped aside. Jake gunned the engine, raised a plume of dust as he shot up the driveway, then stood on the brakes before a set of stone steps that led to a massive iron-bound door.
“This kid’s lived in this place for eight years?”
“It’s an excellent school,” Estes said defensively.
At their knock, a wizened nun opened a small door set into the larger one and rattled off something to the attorney.
“The sister says Mother Elisabete is expecting us.”
They made their way down a long, stone-walled corridor that glistened with damp. The air was cool even on this hot day. The lighting was poor and Jake almost missed the door that suddenly appeared before them. They were ushered into a room filled with heavy mahogany furniture. Dark draperies covered the windows.
The room’s focal point was a massive desk. Behind it sat a thin-lipped woman in a black wimple and habit.
“Mother Elisabete,” Estes said, “this is Joaquim Ramirez.”
“Senhor Ramirez. A pleasure.”
Jake doubted it. Mother Elisabete looked as if a smile would crack her face.
“Catarina,” she said sharply. “Where are your manners? Stand and greet our visitors.”
Jake hadn’t even realized there was anyone else in the room until the nun barked the command. Now he saw a figure rise from a chair in the corner.
Yes, indeed.
An obedient mouse.
Catarina Elena Teresa Mendes, her head bowed, was tall and skinny, all but lost in the folds of an ugly brown dress that hung halfway to her ankles. Her face, what little he could see of it, was unremarkable. Her hair was mouse-brown and so tightly braided around her head that he half wondered if it wouldn’t tug her eyes from their sockets.
Jake breathed a little easier. How tough would it be, watching over a girl like this? Finding her a suitable husband might be a little difficult, unless he could come up with a way to make her look a bit more attractive. From what he could see, that wasn’t going to be easy, but her inheritance would help. He’d seen New York heiresses with looks that could stop a clock land outstanding husbands.
All he had to do was contact a few people and—Damn, in his anger, he’d all but forgotten that he knew a guy at the Brazilian Embassy. Not well—they’d met at a couple of charity dinners, played a little racquetball—but in New York that was enough reason to phone him, invite him for a drink, tell him about Catarina, get her invited to a few parties.
Jake felt his remaining tension drain away. He’d fly home tonight, arrange for an apartment for the girl, hire a companion to watch over her, phone Lucas and get things moving.
“ Mendes,” he said pleasantly. The mouse didn’t respond. She didn’t even look up. Jake raised his eyebrows. “Does she speak English?”
Estes and Mother Elisabete engaged in some rapid-fire Portuguese. Then the nun shrugged her shoulders.
“Very little, I am afraid. But rest assured, Senhor Ramirez, Catarina unde
rstands what is expected of her and she will be most cooperative. Isn’t that right, Catarina?”
A jerk of the head, though the girl’s eyes were still downcast. At least she’d understood enough English for that. Silence descended on the room. Jake cleared his throat. He felt like an idiot…or like a man buying a car. Was he supposed to say something in lieu of kicking the tires?
“I assume you have an appropriate place for her to live, Senhor Ramirez?”
Not yet, but why mention that? The sooner he got this idiotic scheme rolling, the sooner he could say goodbye to Catarina Mendes and hello to the two strangers who were his brothers.
“Senhor?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, “of course.”
Mother Elisabete nodded and rose to her feet. “In that case, you may take her.”
Jake blinked. “Now?”
“Now. She is twenty-one today. We don’t have facilities for girls older than that.”
“I see.” Jake cleared his throat again. “Well, then, Mendes? Senhor Estes? Shall we—?”
“I’m staying for dinner,” Estes said hurriedly. “Mother and I have things to discuss. I’ll take a taxi back to town.”
Jake nodded. It looked as if he was on his own with the mouse. “Uh, if you’d tell Mendes that, uh, that it’s time for her to leave…”
The girl reached for a leather satchel behind her chair. He reached for it, too, and their hands brushed. She jerked her hand from his as if she’d been burned.
Jake smiled politely. “Sorry.”
The girl mumbled something in Portuguese. Mother Elisabete hissed; Estes made a choking sound. Why? Were they both that surprised the girl would apologize? That was what it had been, wasn’t it? An apology? What else would such a docile child offer in such a difficult situation?
Estes shook his hand, said something to the girl. So did Mother Elisabete. The girl never raised her eyes, not even after the same nun who’d admitted them walked them to the front door and shut it behind them.
Jake tossed the girl’s satchel in the back of the SUV and opened her door. She got in, strapped on her seat belt, all without saying a word or looking at him. Poor kid. She was probably terrified.
He waited until they were speeding along the narrow road that led down the mountain.
“ Mendes. I know this must all seem strange…”
No answer. No flick of her head in his direction.
“We’re going to Rio. To my hotel.”
Still no response. He could hardly blame her.
“Tomorrow we’ll fly to the United States. I’ll find an apartment for you to stay in for the next two months, arrange for a companion…” Nothing. Not even a nod of her head. Did she understand a word he was saying? “ Mendes. Catarina. I don’t know how much English you understand, but—”
“I speak English fluently.”
Whoops. Catarina grabbed the door handle as the SUV swerved. Her new guardian—her jailer—recovered control of the wheel quickly enough so that they didn’t go over the precipice, but it was close.
Perhaps she should have been more cautious in telling him she wasn’t the idiot he obviously thought she was.
“You do?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief.
Catarina smoothed down her skirt. “English is the lingua franca of the world.”
She felt him looking at her, though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her any more clearly than she could see him. The sun was almost gone; they were both in shadow. But what did it matter how he looked? She had to go with him, even if he turned out to be a clone of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Mother Elisabete had told her the facts. Senhor Joaquim Ramirez wanted no part of her. He’d been forced to take on her guardianship now that the older Ramirez was dead, and unless she was very careful he would not go through with it, in which case she’d have to remain at the School for Young Ladies while the attorney figured out what to do next, and who knew how much longer that might take?
She hadn’t even intended to speak to the man until they were safely away from the convent, but impatience had gotten the better of her. He talked to her as if she were a child and she was sick and tired of that.
“Besides,” she added, “my mother was American. We spoke both English and Portuguese at home.”
“I see,” Joaquim Ramirez said, although she suspected he didn’t. “Well. That will definitely make things eas—”
“There’s a turn-off ahead. Pull over so we can talk.” A mistake. She knew it as soon as she said it. Nice little convent-bred girls didn’t give orders. “I mean…” She took a breath, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please. This has all been such a shock…Can’t we just discuss things for a little while?”
She saw his hands flex on the wheel. Then he put on his signal light and pulled to the side of the road.
“Look,” he said, swinging toward her, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re right. I’m not in the mood for this deal, either, but there’s a will, Mendes. Estes says he explained its terms to you and you accepted them.”
“I didn’t! Nobody gave me a choice. That’s what I’m trying to—”
Her words were lost in the grinding gears of an eighteen-wheeler as it labored up the steep road. Illumination from its headlights filled the car.
And Jake got a clear look at Catarina Mendes for the very first time.
She was beautiful.
Her face wasn’t bony, it was elegant. Straight nose. High cheekbones. Determined chin. Eyes the color of dark coffee, a mouth that was rosy-pink and generous, innocent of makeup. Innocent, too, he was certain, of a man’s taste.
His eyes dropped lower. That brown thing she was wearing was still ugly and oversized, but because of the way she’d shifted in her seat, because of the pressure of her seat belt, he could see that she had a slender neck, delicate shoulders, and the sensual promise of lush, rounded breasts.
Jake felt a tightening in his groin. Where had his demure little mouse gone?
“I know the terms of my parents’ will,” Catarina said. “Do you really want to force me to follow them? To see me wed a man I don’t love?”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her cheeks were flushed; her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears. She put her hand on his arm and leaned closer, her mouth trembling.
“All you need do is take me to Rio and lend me enough money to live on for the next two months. At the end of that time, you can contact Javier Estes and tell him I’m safely married. I’ll come into my inheritance, pay you what I owe you, and nobody will be the wiser.”
“ Mendes. I wish I could do that, but Estes will demand proof.”
“You can find a way. I know you can.”
Was she wearing perfume? She couldn’t be. Was that the smell of flowers blooming in the darkness that now surrounded them, or was that her scent teasing his senses?
“Please,” she whispered, “I beg you. Help me.”
He wanted to. What man wouldn’t? Maybe what she’d suggested would work. Drop her off in Rio, give her some money, wait a while, then contact Estes and somehow convince him he’d complied with the terms of the will…
And maybe he’d lost his mind. There was no way to fool Javier Estes. He had to make her understand that.
“Senhor? Will you help me?”
Jake cleared his throat. “I wish I could, but—”
“How much is Estes paying you?”
The sharp words matched her demeanor, which had changed in a heartbeat. Her eyes were still bright, but now it was with the flare of anger. She snatched back her hand as if touching him was the same as touching a maggot.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’d do this for money?”
“How much?” she repeated. “Tell me, and I’ll double it.”
In that instant, he realized he’d been snookered. This was no sweetly obedient mouse; this was a woman. Mother Elisabete and Javier Estes had tossed him a hot potato.
His first instinct wa
s to turn the SUV around and take Catarina Mendes back to the convent. No way,, he’d say. You want to find the lady a husband, do it yourself.
And then what would he do? Return to Rio? Tell Marin he wanted to go to court even though he knew he didn’t have a chance in hell of breaking the airtight provisions of the will?
Spend the rest of his life wondering if every dark-haired man who bore even the slightest resemblance to him might also carry his blood?
“Not enough?” Catarina lifted her chin. “I’ll pay you triple whatever—”
“I told you, I’m not doing this for money.”
“I don’t believe you! Why else would—?”
She gasped as his hands closed on her shoulders. “Nobody can buy me, Mendes,” Jake said coldly. “You’d better get that through your head right now. I’m going to do what I have to do. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
Her eyes narrowed; a Portuguese word he didn’t understand hissed from her lips. Jake smiled grimly.
“Whatever you just called me was right on the mark. I am a son of a bitch, a hard-nosed bastard, your worst nightmare come true—you name it. You will live where I put you for the next two months, you will behave as I instruct, you will curb that nasty tongue and charm the men I introduce you to, and you will marry one of them when I tell you to. Do you understand?”
She understood, all right. Mother Elisabete and the attorney had handed her over to a monster. He didn’t look like one—her jailer was young and handsome—but nobody ever said monsters had to be ugly on the outside.
Somehow, that only made things seem worse.
His life stretched ahead of him.
All that stretched ahead of her was whatever he would force upon her.
She felt the hot prick of tears and blinked them back. She would not cry. She hadn’t cried since they’d told her she’d lost her parents. Tears were a sign of weakness. If she’d learned nothing else at the School for Young Ladies, she’d learned that. Still, she couldn’t keep her voice from wobbling.
“You’re going to regret this, Senhor Ramirez.”
Jake already did, but why give her the satisfaction of admitting it? Instead, he gave her a look meant to tell her that nothing she could say or do would affect him.
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