The Disobedient Virgin - The Ramirez Brides 03

by Sandra Marton

Big mistake.

  Her hair had come loose from the pins that held it and fell around her face in waves. An image of himself putting his hands in her hair, winding the length around his fist as he drew her toward him and took that soft-looking, innocent mouth with his, flashed through his mind.

  Jake pulled back, put the car in gear and drove for Rio as if the devil were on his tail.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JAKE pulled up to his hotel the same way he’d pulled up to the gates of the school, so fast and hard the tires of the SUV screamed in complaint.

  If only he could get out of Rio and this nightmare the same way. Go straight to the airport, leave the selfish demands of the man who’d sired him behind, leave the burden of being guardian to Catarina Mendes behind, pick up the pieces of his life and forget everything that had happened since the arrival of the letter.

  But he couldn’t. Learning who his brothers were, finding them, discovering what they were like, was becoming the most important thing in his life.

  Were they facing challenges as unwanted as his in order to unravel the secrets Enrique had taken to his grave?

  Maybe it was foolish, but thinking they were gave him the determination he needed to propel him out of the SUV and to the passenger side where his ward sat, as unmoving as a statue.

  He got there just as the valet reached him.

  “Senhor,” the boy said politely.

  Jake yanked open the door. Catarina was all but wedged against it, her window wide open. She’d put it down long before they’d reached the city, even though he’d had the a/c going full blast, as if to get rid of a bad smell. Him, probably. He’d decided to let her drag in the jet stream if it would keep her silent.

  The wind had not been kind. It had whipped her hair into a thousand wild strands until she looked like a stand-in for Medusa.

  No problem there. It went well with the shapeless brown thing that encased her.

  Jake waited for her to acknowledge his presence. She didn’t and he leaned toward her. The valet was just behind him. No reason to turn this into performance art, he thought, and spoke quietly.

  “Out of the car, Mendes.”

  Except for a slight twitch of her mouth, she didn’t move.

  The hard way, then, Jake thought, and leaned in closer.

  “I said, get out.”

  Catarina looked at him, looked past him, and rattled off something in Portuguese. Jake turned around in time to see the valet’s face turn white. Not a good sign, he thought coldly.

  “What did she say?”

  The valet’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I do not—I am not sure—”

  Jake straightened up, blocked Catarina from the guy’s view and forced a smile.

  “Tell me what the lady said.”

  “She said—the senhorita said…She said you have abducted her, senhor.”

  Jake shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and reading the brass name tag pinned to the valet’s maroon and gold jacket.

  “Andres,” he said, his tone confidential, “I am afraid we have a problem.”

  “We do?”

  “Sim. Yes.” He took Andres by the elbow and walked him a couple of feet away. “You see, the lady—the senhorita—is not well.”

  Color crept back into the valet’s face. “Ah,” he said, peering past Jake.

  “In fact, one look at her and I’m sure you can see just how ill she is.”

  The valet rose on his toes and took another look.

  Jake was confident he knew what his reaction would be. Rio was a city of incredibly beautiful women; this was one of its finest hotels. He’d have bet his last real the valet had never before encountered a female guest who seemed to be wearing a fright wig and a burlap sack.

  The boy turned his attention back to Jake. “I do see, yes, senhor. So sad. She is young to be so, um, so…”

  “Exactly.”

  “I am sorry for your—for your—”

  “Niece,” Jake said quickly. “Thank you. Yes. It’s truly unfortunate.” He dug several bills from his pocket and stuffed them into the valet’s hand. “If you would be so kind as to inform the staff not to pay attention to any, uh, any disturbances my, uh, my niece might create this evening…”

  The valet nodded. “I will tell them, senhor.”

  “Thank you, Andres. Sometimes my, ah, my niece becomes agitated. When she does…Well, I’m sure you understand.”

  “Certainly. If I can do anything to help…”

  You could, but only if you knew a way to rip Enrique Ramirez from the grave, Jake thought grimly. But he smiled like the benevolent uncle he was supposed to be, gave a sad shake of his head and said he would do his best to manage alone. His niece was less likely to be a problem that way. Then he went back to the vehicle, wrapped his hand around Catarina’s wrist and brought his mouth close to her ear.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said coldly. “You can walk into the hotel on your own, or I’ll sling you over my shoulder and carry you. Take it or leave it.”

  Her chin went up a notch.

  “Do it. The policia will be here before you can blink.”

  “That’s fine. I can explain the same thing to them I’ve already explained to the valet. They’ll be most sympathetic to a man who must deal with a niece who suffers from hallucinations.” A tight smile curved his mouth. “They’ll probably even help me find a psychiatric hospital in which I can place you until our flight leaves.”

  That made her look at him, all right.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me.”

  Catarina stared at him. A shudder went through her.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Jake opened her seat belt. “Get out of the car, Catarina.”

  “If it isn’t for money…”

  “I’m going to count to three.”

  “Are you related to Enrique Ramirez? You have the same name.”

  “One.”

  “Was he your father? Did you love him so much that you would do his bidding even after his death?”

  “Two.”

  “What kind of man would consent to such an awful demand? Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

  “Three,” Jake said, and reached for her.

  “All right!” She jerked away from his hand. “I’ll get out. Just don’t touch me.”

  He stood aside and Catarina stepped from the car and swept past him, spine straight, head high, even though she was ready to weep with frustration. And fear. Fear that had become so powerful during the last part of the drive into town it had almost suffocated her.

  She’d been so horrified by the knowledge that she would be married off to a stranger that she hadn’t let herself think about what had just happened.

  A strange man all but owned her.

  “Senhorita,” the valet said, flashing a smile so patently false she knew Ramirez must have told him something truly awful.

  The doorman snapped to attention, the glass door swung wide, and Catarina entered the hotel.

  Her captor was right on her heels.

  “Captor” was the right word for this man, who obviously had no heart, no conscience, no sense of human decency. She’d been wrong, saying he could be led around. Nobody would lead him anywhere he didn’t want to go, this Joaquim Ramirez or Jake Ramirez, whatever he called himself.

  He was macho. Muito macho.

  On top of that, he was beautiful.

  Maybe that was the wrong word to describe a man, but she couldn’t think of another that came close. She’d stolen a long look at him from beneath her lashes when they were in Mother Elisabete’s office. Just for a moment, before they’d told her who he was and what he was going to do with her, she’d conjured up a fantasy about a black-haired, green-eyed knight come to save her from the dragon.

  What a shock to find out that the knight was the dragon.

  Now she wondered what other things she would learn about him. He’d taken her to Rio. To this
hotel, glittering with lights and almost smelling of sin. Wicked places both, or so other girls had whispered late at night, after the lights were out.

  They’d whispered other things, too.

  What would happen to her once she and Joaquim Ramirez were alone?

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the parking valet dart toward the reception desk. Catarina looked over at the clerk behind it just as the valet stepped close and whispered in his ear. The clerk darted a look at her, then looked away.

  Coward, Catarina thought, but she had to admit her captor’s story was more convincing than her own.

  Suddenly, Ramirez was beside her. He curled his hand around her elbow. She jumped at the touch and his fingers bit into her skin.

  “Behave yourself,” he said softly.

  The elevator bank was straight ahead. Guests were stepping from one of the cars. Women wearing tiny dresses, little more than an arrangement of scarves. High heels that made their hips swing when they walked. Was that why they clutched the arms of the men who escorted them? Why they draped themselves over them, hip to hip, thigh to thigh?

  They stared at her. Catarina stared back. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Those dresses, so low at the bodice, so high at the hem, made her blush.

  Her undergarments were less revealing.

  Whispers, little smiles of amusement, raised eyebrows. She felt her face heat. She knew how she looked. No make-up—cosmetics weren’t permitted at the convent school. No artfully styled hair. That wasn’t permitted, either. And this dress, this mud-colored thing she’d made in sewing class…

  She could almost hear the buzz. What was she doing with a man whose looks put all these other men’s looks to shame?

  It was a good question.

  The elevator starter greeted her captor by name. The doors whisked open; Ramirez drew her into the car and they rose to the top floor in silence. Once there, he marched her down the carpeted corridor toward a pair of double doors at the end.

  “It isn’t necessary to drag me.”

  To her horror, her voice trembled. She turned the tremor into a cough.

  She had to walk quickly to keep up with his long stride. At school, she’d been one of the tallest girls. She’d towered over the few men who passed through the gates but she barely came up to her captor’s shoulder. She had to look up to see his face and she didn’t like that. It made her feel overpowered.

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said.” A dip of the key-card and the doors swung open. Catarina didn’t move and he put his hand in the small of her back and propelled her into the room. Once the door was closed, locked and bolted, he switched on the lights. A chandelier that looked almost as big as her convent bedroom blazed to life.

  They were in a sitting room so lush it made her breath catch. Flowers spilled from vases on all the tables; the wall of windows revealed Rio wearing a queen’s ransom in a necklace of light.

  “Okay,” Ramirez said, “let’s get a few things straight.”

  He stood in the center of the room, arms folded, eyebrows knotted in a dark scowl. Catarina blinked and focused on him. He looked huge and almost overwhelmingly male.

  Don’t let anyone ever know that you’re scared. It was a philosophy that had served her well during the first awful months following the deaths of her parents, but her bravado was fast crumbling under the toll of the endless day.

  “You’ve already gotten a few things straight,” she said, trying for sarcasm and not at all sure she’d achieved it. “You’re in charge and I’m expected to obey.”

  “I’m in charge, as you put it, because your parents wanted it that way.”

  “They did not!” A surge of anger lent vibrancy to her voice. “They left me in the care of my uncle.”

  “Yes.” His mouth seemed to soften. “And then you lost him, too. I’m sure it was quite a blow.”

  The “blow”, as he’d put it, came of what had happened today, but why tell him that and lose some slight edge?

  “It was. He was family.”

  “And I’m not.”

  “No.” Her head came up. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I told you. I’m—”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean, I don’t know anything about you.”

  His teeth showed in a mirthless grin. “Then we’re even.”

  “That’s not true. You knew where we were going when we left the convent. You know where we’re going after this. You knew you were going to control my destiny while I thought I’d be free.” Her voice shook. Damn it, Catarina! she thought, and swallowed hard. “At least tell me why you’ve agreed to this—this impossible arrangement.”

  It was, Jake knew, a question she was entitled to ask. Her parents, fate and the damnable Enrique Ramirez had put her life in his hands. She’d put up a good front so far, but he was pretty sure a front was all it was. The tremor in her voice, the stripes of color across her cheeks that only emphasized her pallor, were dead giveaways.

  Catarina Mendes had been whisked from the only home she knew, handed to a stranger, told that he controlled her existence even though she was of age, even though she was a woman…

  Never mind that.

  She was scared, and he couldn’t blame her. Maybe it was time to regroup.

  “ Mendes,” Jake said gently, “why don’t you sit down?”

  “I don’t need to sit.”

  “Maybe not, but I sure do. It’s been a long day. I’m tired, irritable, and now that I think about it, I’m starved.” He reached for the phone. “What would you like?”

  “My freedom,” she said, “that’s what I’d like.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m sure you would. But—”

  “But you’re not about to let me have it.”

  “It’s not as simple as you’d like to make it sound.”

  “It is,” she said, on a hint of desperation. “All you have to do is tell that attorney you’ve decided to step aside.”

  “Okay. Let’s assume I said, sure, go ahead, you want to take off? Go on. Do it.” Jake tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned a hip against the sofa. “What would happen next?”

  “What do you mean, what would happen next? I’d be free.”

  “Free? You’d be all alone in a city that can be as cruel as it is beautiful, sleeping in the streets, at the mercy of everyone who saw you. Does that sound like freedom to you?”

  “I’d manage,” Catarina said, even though her stomach lurched at the thought of the abyss he’d so accurately described.

  “I don’t think so. Besides, you’ve left something out. The most important item. You wouldn’t get your inheritance.”

  “That’s not true. I’ll get a lawyer. He’ll understand that my parents never meant my life to be handed over to a stranger.”

  “You’re right, I’m sure they didn’t.”

  “You see? Even you have to admit the truth. Once I have a lawyer, he’ll contact Javier Estes, demand a change in the terms of my parents’ will and—Have I said something amusing, senhor?”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Jake said carefully. “I’m laughing at myself. Just a day or two ago, I thought the same thing. I’d get a lawyer, he’d handle Estes and, pow, I’d be out of the picture.” His smile faded. “I was wrong. There’s no way out of this. We’re trapped. The will your parents wrote is airtight. So is the will my—” He caught himself. “So is the will that involves me.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide and shiny with tears he knew she didn’t want to shed.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m telling you the truth. Believe me, I’d love it if you were right. You think I’m looking forward to this?”

  She didn’t answer. Jake couldn’t blame her. Why should she see the situation from his point of view when, to her way of thinking, he didn’t see it from hers?

  “Look,” he said carefully, “it’s been a rough day. Here’s what I suggest.” He jerked his he
ad toward one of a pair of closed doors. “There are two bedrooms. You take that one. It has a private bath. Why don’t you wash up, maybe take a shower?” He glanced at the satchel he’d taken from the car. It seemed far too small to hold all her possessions but he had the feeling it did. “Change into something that’s more comfortable than that, ah, that dress you’re wearing, if you like.”

  “What’s wrong with this dress?” Her jaw shot forward. “I made it myself.”

  “Really? That’s, um, that’s…” Jake cleared his throat. “Go on. Freshen up while I order dinner.”

  Dinner. Just the word made her salivate, but Catarina would sooner have starved than admit it.

  “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.”

  “Yeah, but I am. You don’t want to eat, that’s fine. You can watch me pack away enough for the both of us.”

  She’d have told him she had no interest in watching him do anything but exit her life, except he reached for the phone at the same time he shrugged off his suit jacket.

  Padding, she’d told herself, that was what made his shoulders seem so wide.

  Not true. They were like that all on their own.

  He had on a pale blue shirt, spun of the kind of fine cotton that felt like silk. She knew about such things, thanks to Sister Elberta’s Home Economics class.

  “How will you properly furnish your husband’s elegant home if you don’t know how to make the correct choices in materials?” the Sister said.

  Catarina had tuned out. Who cared about the differences between Egyptian cotton and Indian cotton? One looked the same as another, draped over a chair.

  Things changed when a fabric was draped over a man.

  “Room Service?” Ramirez said into the phone. “Do you speak…? Good. Great. I’d like to order…”

  She didn’t hear the rest. How could she concentrate when he had the audacity to start undressing as if she weren’t there? The nerve! she thought, as he undid his cuffs and rolled them back. Not that it mattered. She’d seen a man’s arms before. The old gardener sometimes rolled back his sleeves when he…

  Her breath caught.

  The gardener’s arms were ropy and wizened.

  Her guardian’s were a golden tan, hard with muscle and lightly dusted with fine black hair.

  Now he was peeling off his tie. Wait a minute, she wanted to say, can’t you see I’m still standing here? Instead, she stared, transfixed, as he opened first the top button of his shirt, then the next two. Three. Four.