The Spaniard's Woman

by Diana Hamilton

  ‘We need to talk. Nothing else, I give my word,’ he guaranteed, his voice more heavily accented than she had ever heard it before as he eased her back against the pillows and drew the covers up, tucking them around her quivering shoulders.

  Rosie devoutly wished she could disappear off the face of the earth. He was going to make her promise never to breathe a single word about what they’d done; she just knew he was. It stood to reason, didn’t it?

  He wouldn’t want anyone to know that the wealthy, respected businessman with upper crust connections had slept with the humble cleaning lady!

  And she couldn’t stand her corner and come back with the information that she was the daughter of a knight of the realm.

  She couldn’t mention that to anyone, not until she’d spoken to her father, and perhaps not even then, because he might not want to be reminded of past indiscretions, might tell her to get lost.

  Besides, it would only make Sebastian hate her as the evidence of Marcus’s betrayal of his much loved aunt. And she couldn’t bear that.

  Her toes curled beneath the covers, every muscle tightening in fight or flight mode as she waited for him to say something really awful.

  Propped up on one elbow, he was looming over her and she turned her head away, her long hair spilling out against the pillows.

  Dawn light was filtering into the little room and a glance at what she could see of his now quelling features told her that what he was about to say would be deadly serious and deeply unflattering from her viewpoint. She gritted her teeth. She would have to take it, get it over with, and learn a salutary lesson.

  Above the rapid thundering of her heart she could hear his even breathing and wished she could be as composed as he so obviously was. When he said gently, ‘I have to go soon. Madge rises early and I wouldn’t want you to be compromised,’ her soft mouth trembled and tears stung beneath her eyelids.

  He was a real gentleman. He wasn’t treating her like a whore or calling her nasty names, not even swearing her to secrecy for his pride’s sake. He was actually thinking of her.

  Long fingers stroked a wandering strand of hair away from her brow then curled around her jaw, turning her to face him, his voice low and very thickly accented now as he stated, ‘You were a virgin. Rosie, I should regret what happened, apologise, but in all honesty I can’t. You were so—’ He paused, as if his aptitude for the English language had suddenly deserted him.

  His fingers slid from her jawbone and tracked gently down the side of her throat. ‘Sensational.’

  The intensity of his level silver gaze, the stark masculine beauty of his features, the touch of his hand against her skin, made her feel helplessly dizzy. He had said she was sensational. Was she really? He wouldn’t lie about it, would he?

  Why should he?

  She wanted to hold him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him how swollen her heart felt, swollen with so much love she could barely contain it. Already her breasts were peaking beneath the covers, the insistent liquid heat between her thighs tormenting her. But his next statement made her go cold all over.

  ‘As this was your first time, I don’t expect you’re protected.’

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes felt as big as dinner plates. She hadn’t given the matter of contraception any thought at all. Despite Jean’s opinion that she was still wet behind the ears she disagreed and thought of herself as being sensible and capable, but in this one instance she’d been so blown away—

  ‘Protection against pregnancy,’ Sebastian elaborated with soft patience, as if he had mistaken what was probably the imbecilic look on her face for incomprehension.

  Wordlessly, Rosie shook her head, too ashamed of her reckless behaviour to say a single word. And shivered with mortification at his tone of self-castigating regret when he admitted, ‘Neither did I. It was utterly inexcusable.’ He swung off the bed.

  ‘You might be pregnant, Rosie. It is something we both have to think about.’

  The rustle of fabric as he pulled on the clothes that had been rapidly discarded a few hours ago made her throat fill up with tears. And when he tautly reminded her, ‘We need to discuss the situation more fully—in the meantime, promise me you won’t worry about it,’ before leaving the room, she had never felt so lonely in the whole of her life, not even in those first wretched weeks after her adored mother had died.

  ‘Promise me you won’t worry’! How could he say that? History could be repeating itself and she had probably messed up her life! How could she not worry?

  A quick shower. A rapid change of clothes. Sebastian let himself out of the silent house and into the early spring dawn. A long, brisk walk should help him get his head straight, confirm the decisions that were already beginning to take shape. Then, as he was used to doing, he would act on them.

  ‘It’s all right for some!’ Sharon grumbled through a mouthful of sausage and egg. But the appreciative look in her heavily made-up eyes had Rosie laying down the single slice of toast which was all she’d said she could manage. Glancing through the kitchen window in the direction of Sharon’s gaze, she saw Sebastian approaching through the fields and her heart jumped up into her throat. He was so gorgeous, no wonder the other girl was staring. Jeans and a chunky sweater only served to emphasise his powerful physique and his stride, in those walking boots, looked really purposeful.

  Her stomach performed an alarming series of acrobatics. Ever since she’d steeled herself to present herself for breakfast her stomach had been misbehaving. Nauseous at one moment, as if she were already suffering from morning sickness, squirming with electrical charges at the memory of last night in the very next second.

  ‘You’ve got to admit it, he’s a real hunk,’ Sharon pronounced, reaching for the toast and marmalade.

  Madge said prosaically, ‘The Senor will be hungry,’ and stood up from the table.

  And I might be pregnant, Rosie thought, and wondered why the idea didn’t seem quite so alarming as it had done, then felt her face drain of colour as a horrible premonition crept into her mind. If history was going to repeat itself exactly then—‘Is he married?’ she heard herself blurting, although framing that question out loud hadn’t been her intention.

  Putting bacon and tomatoes ready for the grill, Madge gave a wry chuckle. ‘Not that one! Once, when I told him it was time he settled down, he asked me why he should be satisfied with one flower when he could have a whole bunch. Still, I dare say the time will come.’

  ‘Fancy your chances?’ Sharon settled back in her chair and grinned unrepentantly. ‘Forget it. If I thought there was any chance he’d go for one of the common herd I’d be in there, strutting my stuff! When he does marry, she’ll have to be drop-dead fantastic, with a pedigree going back to the Ark and a sackful of dosh. His type wouldn’t settle for anything less.’

  As if she needed reminding! Rosie made her excuses and fled.

  Sebastian entered the house via the service area, shed his walking boots and pushed his feet into an old pair of loafers. His timing was spot on: breakfast was in progress, he could smell grilling bacon from here. But when he walked through into the kitchen the stab of disappointment that speared through his entire body was so out of character that he feared for his sanity.

  No sign of Rosie. Just a plate with a crumbled piece of toast where she must have been sitting, Madge making fresh coffee, Sharon reaching for the last slice in the rack, the seams of her brown overall straining.

  Even in her over-large overall Rosie managed to look both endearing and nerve-tinglingly sexy, he recalled, as his common sense finally overrode his disappointment at not finding her here. The announcement he’d intended to make was burning his tongue but it could wait until they all met up for lunch.

  ‘Jump to it, Sharon,’ Madge ordered as she turned back to the table, cafetiere in one hand, a fresh rack of toast in the other.

  ‘Rosie’s already hard at it. And I don’t want to come up and find you gossiping and wasting time.’


  Sebastian suppressed a grin as Sharon rolled her eyes and reluctantly hauled herself to her feet. Her jaw was set at a pugnacious angle as she stated, ‘I’ll work this week out, then I’m jacking it in. It’s boring, and I ain’t used to being treated like a kid. My boyfriend wanted to go clubbing last night, only we couldn’t. He said to get locked out, see if I cared, I could stay over at his. He said to give you the elbow. But I told him I wouldn’t get paid if I didn’t work the week out, and I ain’t scrubbing floors for nothing. Not for no one.’

  She turned her angry reddened face to Sebastian, as if, he thought, as he poured his coffee, she was looking for his support. But her departure at the end of the week suited his plans just perfectly. He needn’t make that semi-formal announcement after all.

  He said smoothly, ‘We’ll be sorry to lose you, Sharon. Your mind’s obviously made up so I won’t ask you to change it.’ And waited for her to stump out of the room before giving his attention to Madge. Who was fuming.

  ‘That girl’s as unreliable as the rest of her family! Now what are we going to do? Sir Marcus expects the house to be sparkling for when he brings that—his fiancee here. Rosie’s a good worker but she can’t do it on her own, not even with what help I’ll be able to give her. And it’s too late to go advertising again.’

  ‘Relax, Madge. Sit down, won’t you?’ He waved her to a chair on the opposite side of the table and began to eat his bacon, surprised at his keen appetite after the demons of remorse and self-loathing that had been his companion in the early hours of the morning.

  But he’d faced those demons, faced the possible repercussions of those heady hours when he’d slaked his lust on Rosie’s tormentingly responsive, gorgeous body. It had been a reprehensible mistake on his part and the excuse that he had completely and quite uncharacteristically lost his head was no excuse at all.

  But at least he now knew what he had to do.

  Looking into his old friend’s face, he said, ‘Leave everything to me.’ And he carefully spelled out the decisions he’d reached during his early-morning walk, too intent on enjoying his breakfast to note the way Madge’s brows rose to her hairline as he spelled out his plans for Rosie.

  Half an hour later he exited Marcus’s study, the first part of his plan put into operation. A team of professional cleaners, based in nearby Ludlow, would be arriving first thing in the morning.

  Now all he had to do was inform Rosie of the domestic alterations. She might dig her heels in, but hell, he thrived on challenges, didn’t he?

  His pace determined, he mounted the stairs quickly, heading for whichever of the rooms the girls were working in, alerted by Sharon’s raucous laughter as he approached the master suite.

  The door was open. He heard Sharon say, obviously in answer to a question Rosie had posed, ‘Briar Cottage? ‘Course I know it. Everyone knows everyone in this one-eyed dump. It’s an estate cottage; the head gardener lives there. Why do you ask? Someone you know?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Rosie’s voice was muffled, sounding slightly breathless. ‘Someone who knew I was coming to work in the vicinity just happened to mention it. Said it was a picture. I just wondered where it was.’

  ‘Turn right at the bottom of the drive, down the lane, first right again on to a track and you’re there. It’s OK, I suppose, if you like thatch and roses round the door stuff. Me, I’d rather go take a look at the inside of the travelling library—and that’s saying something, believe me!’

  Sebastian grinned to himself. Sharon obviously had no time for the delights of rural life. He walked through the doorway.

  Sharon was lying back on Sir Marcus’s dust-sheeted bed, idly examining her bitten fingernails. She shot him a sullen look and shuffled off the bed, but Sebastian had eyes only for Rosie.

  She had her back to him and was painstakingly cleaning the daunting expanse of the main small-paned window, the morning sunlight giving her beautiful hair shimmering silver highlights. Unlike the lazy Sharon, Rosie was putting her heart and soul into her work, intent on earning every penny of her wages.

  A swamping wave of tenderness drenched through him, taking him by surprise. Whatever happened, he vowed, he wouldn’t allow her to suffer for what had happened between them last night. It had been magical, instinctive, transcending his previous, admittedly slightly cynical experiences with the opposite sex. But he wasn’t going to think about that, he told himself harshly, as he watched her stretch to reach a high corner.

  He would wipe it from his memory banks and make sure it never happened again.

  Oblivious of his silent appearance in the room, Rosie, rubbing at a stubborn smear, addressed her workmate, ‘I don’t suppose you remember the family who lived in Briar Cottage before the present head gardener?’

  ‘I do,’ Sebastian slotted in, and watched her go very still, as if his voice had given her a huge shock, and added easily, his eyes on Rosie’s now rigid shoulders, willing her to turn and face him, ‘There’s been a change of plan, ladies.’

  Reluctantly, he turned to Sharon, who was now on her hands and knees, unenthusiastically dabbing polish on the oak boards. If anyone should be stiff with embarrassment it should be she, not Rosie, who had been diligently working. Unless she thought that idle chit-chat was forbidden.

  If her questions had been idle?

  Shelving that for the moment, he elaborated, ‘I’ve decided to hire a team of professional cleaners. They start tomorrow. You’ll be paid until the end of the week so you might as well pack your bags and leave now.’

  Rosie’s knees threatened to give way beneath her and she felt the colour drain out of her face. Despite telling her not to worry about possible repercussions following last night’s frenzied lovemaking, he was giving her her marching orders! Getting rid of her in case there were consequences he wouldn’t want to handle! So much for him telling her they had to get together and talk things out!

  Besides, to add insult to injury, she’d only been here a few days and had found out next to nothing about her father, and found out too much about herself!

  She hadn’t even had the opportunity to look at the cottage where her mother had lived for the first eighteen years of her life.

  But there was nothing she could do about it. She hadn’t signed a contract or anything. She gathered up her cleaning materials and turned to watch as Sebastian peeled notes off a roll and handed them to Sharon.

  Determined that he wouldn’t have the faintest idea how much she was hurting, she held her chin high as she watched him watch Sharon make a hasty exit. She knew the other girl had told him and Madge that she was leaving at the end of the week. So Sebastian had grabbed the opportunity to get rid of her as well. Like her mother before her, she had a lousy taste in men! And she wasn’t going to cry—no way was she going to cry!

  And he could keep his rotten money! She would accept only what was due to her for the few days she’d actually worked here. Her voice stiff and sharp, her chin still painfully high, she announced, ‘I’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes. And I’d like permission to use the phone to call a cab to get me to the station.’

  He turned slowly, glittering silver eyes resting on her, his beautiful mouth softly curved as if her independent stand had amused him. Her breath snagging in her throat. Rosie turned her head away; if she looked at him she would disgrace herself and start to cry. Like her mother before her, she had fallen instantly and recklessly in love with the one man she should have run a mile from.

  ‘You’re going nowhere,’ he stated, with such flat determination he aroused everything stubborn within her. I let Sharon go because the work didn’t suit her. You’re different.’

  Because she believed in ‘working for her wages’? Because she didn’t skive off and grumble about everything? A case of knowing a bargain when he saw one? It shouldn’t hurt. But it did.

  Moments ago she’d been on the verge of tears because she thought he was throwing her out. Suddenly everything had changed. She had fallen headlong into the mire of
loving him, but she could get herself out of it, couldn’t she?

  She could cut her losses as far as meeting her father and getting to know him was concerned—he wouldn’t be interested in any case. And rescue herself from the awful fate of falling even more deeply for Sebastian Garcia, falling so deeply that she would be spoiled for ever—unable to form a special relationship with any other man—just as her mother had been.

  Her eyes very blue, she turned to him and made herself look into his strong, lean face. ‘You don’t need me. Professional cleaners will go through this place like a dose of salts. I’d just get in the way. I’d rather go.’

  Even as she stated her intentions, as firmly as she was able, she felt desperately empty, as if she were suffering a loss beyond bearing. But it was the best way; the only way. Staying around would make her act like a real fool. Watching for him, hoping and praying for a kind word, a smile, lying awake at night longing for him to come to her room.

  ‘Forget the cleaning,’ he dismissed, clearly losing patience with her, his skin taut over his beautiful bone structure. I may have made you pregnant, remember?’ he jolted acidly. ‘I want you where I can see you until we’re sure, either way. I took advantage of you, which in the cold light of day I deeply regret,’ he admitted, mortifying her. ‘However, I take my responsibilities seriously. You stay.’

  ‘What did that mean?’ Rosie questioned hysterically.

  That if the worst happened he would book her into a private clinic and pay for an abortion? Well, he could forget that, for starters!

  Her legs turning to jelly, she stared at the floor and mumbled, I can look out for myself.’

  And shuddered uncontrollably as he took two swift paces forward, tipped her chin with an inescapable forefinger and ground out, as if he wished he’d never set eyes on her, ‘No, you can’t. And even if you could I wouldn’t let you. I feel guilty enough as it is. Now.’ He dragged in a tight breath and said more levelly, which must have called for a huge effort, Rosie decided miserably, ‘Get changed. I’m taking you out for lunch. And while we’re eating I’ll tell you what I have in mind.’