The Spaniard's Woman

by Diana Hamilton

  Ignoring the love bit, she hunched her slender shoulders and managed to mutter, as if it were something to be ashamed of,

  ‘I didn’t want secrets.’

  His brilliant eyes had narrowed, but his smile was something else. He simply said, ‘Ah, I see,’ but he looked like a man who’d just been told he’d won the lottery.

  Rosie’s breathing went on hold, and when he stood and said, ‘Let’s go face the music, shall we?’ she could only scramble to her feet and follow, knowing she would never understand him in a trillion years.

  Knowing, sadly, that she would never be given the opportunity to try.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘WELCOME to my home, Rosie. My son has told me so much about you.’

  Dona Elvira looked genuinely pleased to see her and Rosie, nervously returning the older woman’s smile, flicked Sebastian a puzzled sidelong glance.

  ‘I do know how to use a telephone,’ he supplied drily, and Rosie returned her attention to his mother. Of course, he would have had to let his parent know he would be arriving with a guest.

  Stupid of her to have imagined she would have come as an awkward surprise.

  ‘Paquita, will take your suitcases to your room, but before you freshen up after your journey Carlota is bringing cold drinks. I always find that travelling gives me the most enormous thirst. My dear husband used to say that I couldn’t have been a camel in a former life!’ The dark eyes sparkled as she motioned Rosie to a chair. ‘Sebastian can go and winkle Terrina out from wherever she is hiding—by the pool, I think, hijo—and leave me to talk to Rosie; I want to get to know all about her.’

  Oh, no, you don’t! Rosie muttered inside her head, but the first real smile of the day brightened her features as she sank into the elegant, brocade-covered chair. Sebastian had been right about one thing: his mother—with her warm smile, her charm and slender elegance—could put the guillotine-bound occupants of a tumbril at their ease with no trouble at all.

  As they had approached the house, awe had been added to her nervous trepidation. The white walls, arches and intricate ironwork and towers gave it the look of a Moorish fortress.

  Some house!

  Her knees had knocked alarmingly as Sebastian had escorted her through a spacious colonnaded courtyard, too preoccupied to actually see the beauty of the ancient stone fountain, the flowering perfumed vines that clung to the high walls. She’d felt as out of place as a hamburger at a Lord Mayor’s banquet. But Dona Elvira had immediately put her at her ease, and just for a few moments she was determined to make the most of a state of affairs that was bound to be short-lived.

  ‘Momento, Mama. Terrina can wait.’ She would have to, Sebastian thought grittily. Other things had taken precedence over the need to send the gold-digger packing. ‘How is Marcus?’ His godfather and partner had collapsed from the strain of overwork at the turn of the year, and before he was presented with his illegitimate daughter—and his own anger at the older man’s dereliction of responsibility—he needed to know that he was strong enough to take it. Despite the growing certainty that Marcus had behaved dishonourably all those years ago, he still held him in high affection.

  ‘Fighting fit.’ Doha Elvira smiled an acknowledgement as a young maid carried in a tray of the promised cool drinks. ‘He insists he can’t wait to get back into harness and visits the Cadiz office most days.’ She rose gracefully to pour from the jug of iced fruit juice. ‘Needless to say, that doesn’t please Terrina. She would far rather he took her shopping.’

  Glass in hand, she paused. ‘From observation, I would say that he’s beginning to have many second thoughts in that direction.

  You and I saw through her, but—’ She gave an eloquent shrug and carried the glass to Rosie, apologising, ‘Forgive me.

  Prattling on about family concerns that can be of no interest to you.’

  She was wrong there, Rosie thought, taking the glass. Her own feelings about Marcus’s marital intentions had been ambiguous to say the least. On the one hand, she had nothing against people taking a second chance of happiness. On the other, there was the hard, resentful little feeling that, after his wife’s death, he might have tracked her mother down. That he hadn’t done any such thing reinforced her opinion that Molly Lambert had been just a casual secret fling. Men in his position didn’t marry beneath them.

  As the carved wooden door closed behind Doha Elvira, Rosie looked round the rooms she’d been given and gave a soft sigh of relief. A whole suite of rooms, combining luxury and taste, bowls of fresh flowers to perfume the air, and one set of windows to look out on to an inner courtyard and another set to give her views of the surrounding countryside and a glimpse of the distant sea. She wasn’t expected to surface for another two hours, when dinner was due to be served. After Sebastian had been called away to the phone, her chat with his mother had been really calming. With skill and a huge dose of charm the older woman had drawn all sorts of things out of her. Her humble origins, the reason she’d had to give up her place at university where she’d intended to read sociology. The dilemma she now faced: should she try for another place and take out a student loan or continue to work for Jean to fund evening classes at the local college and end up as a secretary?

  ‘I’m quite sure all that will take care of itself,’ Dona Elvira had murmured, covering Rosie’s hand with her own. ‘You will see.’

  Nice thought. Rosie gave a wry smile. But life didn’t work like that, did it? If you left everything to fate, as the older woman had seemed to be suggesting, then nothing would ever get done, would it?

  Thankfully, she removed her warm jacket and didn’t have time to put it back on again as Sebastian walked in after the briefest of raps.

  Instinctively, she folded her arms over her breasts. His brilliant eyes gleamed. I have seen you wearing much less. But I like it when you blush. However—’ he moved towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders ‘—I know how nervous you are. I have forced you into a situation not of your liking. I have made decisions for you.’ His eyes probed her flushed face, and Rosie had the strongest urge to fling her arms around him and tell him not to worry; it didn’t matter. She would face whatever had to be faced if he could stop being angry with her.

  ‘The matter does have to be resolved. But not tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough, when you are more rested. So tonight you may eat your dinner without fear of terminal indigestion!’

  Rosie’s legs decided to turn into water and her tummy flipped right over. When he smiled like that she went into emotional melt-down. She trembled, every nerve-ending leaping with wicked response to this achingly gorgeous man, but he merely touched her lips briefly with his own, then gave her a shuttered look, swung round and exited the room like a man with a pack of demons on his heels.

  Refusing to let herself get into a mental tangle by trying to work out what went on in his mind to provoke such contradictory behaviour, she went through the motions of undressing and drawing a bath. But half an hour spent in a marble tub that was almost big enough to swim in, admiring the mirrored walls, the green marble floor and the exotic pot plants, produced a mood of calm acceptance.

  She wouldn’t be here long enough to get used to such luxury.

  After she’d been sprung on Marcus she’d be put on the first flight home. He couldn’t kill her for being his unwanted daughter! And, as for Sebastian, it was time she started thinking like an adult woman instead of a love-struck teenager.

  All he was probably used to was sex for the sake of it with any woman who was willing and took his fickle fancy. He would run far more than the proverbial mile if he discovered she had fallen in love with him.

  And as long as she kept that firmly in mind she’d be all right.

  Get over it. Get on with her life. And, if she did turn out to be pregnant, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Not wanting to dwell on that tricky subject and get herself more wound up than she already was, she hauled herself out of the bath and, wrap
ped in one of the huge bath sheets, padded through into the bedroom.

  And stopped short, her huge eyes filled with enquiry as the woman who’d been staring out of one of the windows turned towards her.

  ‘I did knock but you can’t have heard me. So I came in to wait.’

  ‘You don’t mind? Terrina Dysart—’ She walked forward as she smilingly introduced herself. ‘Marcus’s fiancee. I was told you’d arrived and I did so want to meet with you.’

  Clutching her towel, Rosie took the outstretched hand and returned a smile. So this was the woman her father was planning to marry. She was lovely, glossy as a catwalk model, beautifully packaged in a flame-coloured shift, the chestnut hair—commonly described as big—artfully arranged around her shoulders. Rosie felt quite pallid by comparison.

  ‘So—’ The scarlet smile widened, showing teeth as even and white and perfect as a toothpaste advertisement. ‘You are Sebastian’s lady. I approve! It is time he settled down.’

  If only! Rosie felt a regrettable juvenile blush spreading all over her body. Is that what they all thought, that she was the Spaniard’s woman? Impossible to explain who she really was and why she was here at this stage, before tomorrow morning’s confrontation with Marcus.

  Thankfully, Terrina didn’t appear to expect a confirmation of her statement. She settled gracefully on to a silk-covered chaise and opined, ‘It’s just a duty visit, I suppose? You and Sebastian won’t be staying long—it gets pretty boring after a while. I’m hoping to persuade Marcus to take me to Milan to shop for a trousseau.’

  ‘That sounds fun.’ Rosie hoped that was the right thing to say.

  She felt like a lemon, standing here wrapped in a towel, trying to make light conversation with the woman Marcus was to marry, her eyes prickling with tears because she couldn’t help thinking of her mother.

  If Terrina was the type her father admired, then what had he been doing with someone like Molly Lambert, the unsophisticated gardener’s daughter, who had liked nothing better than grubbing about in the soil, helping things to grow?

  ‘I ought to get dressed for dinner.’ Rosie felt it was time to make an effort to show she was in control of something. ‘Dona Elvira said my case had been brought here, but I can’t see it.’

  ‘Paquita will have unpacked for you.’ Terrina rose to her feet and swayed over to an enormous walk-in wardrobe. ‘Problem solved!’ She riffled amongst the hangers, exclaiming, ‘Classy! I must say, you do have fabulous taste. Go for this—’ She held out a smoky-grey knee-length sleeveless chiffon dress with a discreetly plunging neckline. ‘You will look perfect—a lovely foil for my orange thing!’ She wrinkled her narrow nose. I tend to go for look-at-me colours. I’ll have to learn to be more decorous when I’m the lady of the manor!’

  The sudden flicker of uncertainty in the long brown eyes had Rosie quickly asserting, ‘You mustn’t think like that. I think you look fantastic. You are what you are. You shouldn’t try to change a single thing.’

  Sebastian had tried to change her, tried to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. And just look where it had got her. Nowhere!

  ‘Really?’ The brown eyes widened.

  ‘Yes, really,’ Rosie affirmed as she took the selected dress.

  ‘Now, I must get changed or I’m bound to be late. I’ll see you at dinner?’

  ‘Of course.’ Terrina made a move to leave, then hesitated. ‘I—oh, dammit! Look, do you mind if I’m frank?’ The pampered hands with their long, painted fingernails were twisting together. ‘Could you get Sebastian to leave as soon as possible? Tell him you’d like to go to Seville, or something? He’s a lovely man, but he doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure he’ll try to break me and Marcus up.’

  ‘Why on earth would he want to do that?’ Rosie soothed immediately. The other girl had obviously got her wires crossed somewhere, but she did seem genuinely troubled. Her smooth brow wrinkled. Hadn’t Sebastian said that Terrina wasn’t fit to touch her shoes, or something along those lines? Looking at this lovely creature, it didn’t make any sense. And how could he not like you?’ she added for good measure.

  ‘Because—’ Terrina bit down on her lower lip, then dragged in a huge breath. ‘You won’t like this, but it is true. As things stand, Sebastian is Marcus’s heir. Everything—his fifty per cent holding in the business, his property, the millions sloshing around in bank accounts—goes to Sebastian. He stands to lose the lot if Marcus remarries. As his wife I would inherit everything.’

  As Rosie’s mouth fell open, the other girl said harshly, ‘That’s why he’d do anything to break us up. Think about it,’ and exited the room on a cloud of musky perfume, leaving Rosie gaping.

  Sebastian wouldn’t do a thing like that! He was wealthy enough in his own right. He was really fond of his godfather; some of the things he’d said proved that. He wouldn’t try to deprive him of his future happiness with a new wife just for sordid financial gain.

  And yet—Her brow wrinkled. When she’d revealed her true identity he had immediately accused her of scheming to place herself as Marcus’s heir, his initial thoughts only of all that money—his own inheritance. No mention at that stage of his aunt’s betrayal…. The sudden doubts made her feel sick. With an effort she pushed them away.

  Terriria, for all her friendliness, had to be mentally deranged, poor thing, to even imagine that Sebastian would act that way —it was the only solution. Wasn’t it?

  ‘You look exquisite. Perfect.’ Sebastian cupped her bare elbow with his hand and escorted her out of the bedroom. ‘We assemble in the small sala, drink a glass of fino, make small talk and then go in to dinner. It is the ritual in my mother’s home.’ His voice was light, his smile warm, his compliments on her appearance a welcome boost to her self-confidence. But Rosie could feel the tension in him; it seemed to flow from him in unsettling waves.

  On the point of confiding Terrina’s odd misgivings, she firmly clamped her mouth shut. If she said anything at all on that subject she’d probably be accused of mischief-making. She had enough on her plate without that! In a few moments she would be introduced to her father! And the way Sebastian’s tautly muscled thigh was brushing lightly against hers as they walked the length of the corridor was making her feel decidedly drunk.

  But for once the physical contact didn’t make her blush. In fact, her face felt all white and pinched. At the carved wooden doors Sebastian paused. He gave her an unnervingly tender glance.

  ‘Try to relax, cara. No traumatic revelations this evening, remember. Just be your own natural, sweet self and put all your anxieties aside until the morning. Don’t forget, I am here with you.’

  As if she could forget a thing like that! Around him she was flooded with so much fierily wicked weakness she couldn’t think straight. And her anxieties refused to be put aside; they just kept hammering at her brain. Nevertheless, she managed a wavery smile, told him, ‘Thank you, I appreciate your support,’ and steeled herself to walk through the door he’d opened for her. Head high, smile glued to her face.

  It was a beautiful room with a painted, intricately plastered ceiling, tall windows, delicate furniture, a magnificent hand-painted Chinese screen.

  Dona Elvira, Terrina and the man she had come so far to see.

  Marcus Troone began to get to his feet, then abruptly sank back in his chair, his hands gripping the carved and gilded arms, his strong features losing every vestige of colour as he gasped, ‘Molly!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rosie’s blood ran cold, then surged with a rush of anxiety which was uncomfortably spiked with guilt. She was responsible for her father’s collapse.

  He’d taken one look at her and mistaken her for her mother!

  Hadn’t Jean always said how alike they were? She should have remembered that.

  Sebastian had already reached his godfather’s side, and Rosie pulled herself together and sped after him. Elvira rose swiftly from her chair and tugged on the bell rope to summon one of the servants. Only Terrina stayed w
here she was, staring.

  ‘Don’t fuss!’ Marcus grumbled as Sebastian leant over him and loosened his collar. ‘I’m perfectly all right. Bit of a shock, that’s all. And I don’t want a doctor,’ he stated strongly, picking up on Sebastian’s terse instruction to Dona Elvira. ‘If you send for him I shall refuse to see him!’

  ‘Recovered, obviously,’ Sebastian murmured drily as Paquita appeared, to vanish again to fetch the water Dona Elvira requested.

  Angled behind Sebastian’s back, Rosie hardly dared show her face in case she triggered another collapse. Or worse. How awful if something happened to him before they exchanged a single word!

  But that dire event seemed extremely unlikely as Sir Marcus Troone rose smartly to his feet. Sebastian swung round, his features set, looped an arm around her waist and positioned her to face the older man.

  Rosie simply stared. She couldn’t help it. A still handsome man, he had altered little from the photograph she’d seen. His face a little heavier, his waistline a little thicker. Deep blue eyes searched her pale features but his firm voice was kind as he apologised, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t usually greet guests by falling flat on my back! You remind me of someone I used to know.’

  ‘Rosie—’ Sebastian’s voice was sharpened steel. ‘Now, I think.’

  Knowing exactly what he meant, her eyes appealed to his.

  ‘Should I? Now?’

  ‘Si.’

  ‘May I know what you’re talking about?’ Marcus’s keen eyes encompassed them both as he waved aside the water Elvira held out to him. Rosie took a deep breath. She had the floor and didn’t feel over the moon about it. Huge understatement!

  But Sebastian was right. After he’d called out her mother’s name in shock there could be no more prevarication. Besides, she tried to reassure herself, she needn’t worry too much.

  Healthy colour had come back into his face and he looked strong as an ox. Far stronger than she felt!