Master of El Corazon

by Sandra Marton

  That was fine with Arden, but Linda clearly missed him.

  ‘Poor Conor,’ she’d pouted last night. ‘He’s never here. Why must he be the one to inspect the cattle and the crops? If there is work to be done, surely you have men who can do it?’

  Felix had glowered across the table at his stepdaughter. ‘Someone must supervise the men, Linda. There was a time I would have done so, but now I am trapped in this chair. If my nephew wants to pretend he is Master here, let him do his duty.’

  ‘Yes, but when will I see him again?’

  ‘Stop whining,’ the old man had snapped, and the girl’s face crumpled.

  Arden sighed as she shut off the water and stepped on to the mat. She had no idea how long Conor’s visit to El Corazon would last. She kept hoping that one morning she’d come downstairs and Felix would announce that his nephew was gone for good, but until that day came, the less she saw of Conor Martinez, the better—which was why she was not going to hang around the house today. Besides, today was her day off and she was going to make the most of it.

  ‘Twenty-four hours for yourself, Miss Miller,’ Felix had said crisply when he’d hired her, ‘and not a minute more. I do not care where you spend your time, nor how, so long as you are here when you are supposed to be.’

  ‘Of course,’ Arden had answered politely.

  She smiled a little as she toweled herself dry. What she’d really wanted to say was that she could hardly quarrel with such a rule when any fool could see she’d be spending her days off right here, at the finca. Where could she go, without a car? Even if she’d had one, the dirt road that had brought her here went nowhere else, unless she’d wanted to pay a visit to San José—and she had no wish to do that.

  But there was nothing wrong with spending her days off at El Corazon. Arden tossed aside the towel, fluffed her fingers through her hair, and strode into the bedroom. Alejandro hadn’t exaggerated the estate’s attractiveness. The pool was Olympic-size and surrounded by comfortable lounging chairs, and the garden that embraced the house was magnificent, filled with spectacular orchids and frequented by tropical birds of incredible variety and splendour.

  She pulled open a bureau drawer and rifled through its contents. There was a wealth of other attractions, too. The library was comfortable and stocked with all sorts of books in English as well as Spanish, and there was a music room opposite that held a piano and a compact disc player and more CDs than she’d ever seen outside of a record shop.

  And if she tired of reading or listening to music or swimming laps in the pool, she could always walk the grounds of the estate or even ride them on one of El Corazon’s handsome horses. Learning to ride had been one of the few benefits of growing up in a town like Greenfield. An industrious teenager could always trade an afternoon spent mucking stalls for a couple of hours on horseback.

  But today, Arden thought as she took a white bathing suit from the drawer, today she was going to play it safe. She wasn’t going to stay around the house, where a face to face encounter with the overbearing Senor Martinez was almost a certainty. She pulled on the suit, then walked to the mirror and peered into it, frowning as she adjusted the straps of the high cut maillot.

  She was going to spend her day at a place that seemed to have been forgotten by everyone at El Corazon, a crystal lake with a white sand bottom that lay a ten-minute walk from the house. She had found it one afternoon, when Felix was napping under his nurse’s supervision, after she’d followed an overgrown path through a dense tangle of bougainvillaea and wild rose. She’d almost turned back when the flowers seemed to become an impenetrable wall—and then the wind shifted and she’d caught a glimpse of a clearing with the sky reflected in a lake of sapphire-blue.

  Arden drew her damp hair back from her face and worked it into a French braid. She’d have been sitting at that lake an hour ago, but she’d waited until she was sure breakfast was finished before going down in order to avoid Conor. Why start her day off with something unpleasant?

  She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine, and by now the maid would have cleared the last of the breakfast buffet from the sun-room. A book borrowed from the library, a snack of fruit and cheese from the kitchen, and she’d be all set. It would be peaceful and quiet down by the water and, best of all, she wouldn’t have to even think of Conor until dinner. All she needed now were her sunglasses—and there they were, on the table near the window...

  Arden paused as she reached for the glasses. There was Linda now, making her way to the pool, wearing a bikini that was little more than three triangles of fuchsia silk held together by pink ribbon. She dropped a towel and a bottle of lotion beside a white lounger, then lay down carefully, arranging her hair so it fanned over her shoulder, lifting one leg so its symmetry would show to advantage. It was an artful performance, but for whose benefit? Surely she was alone.

  No. She wasn’t. Conor was there, too, coming not from the house but. from the garden, wearing nothing but a pair of faded cut-off denims.

  Arden’s breath caught. She might have known he’d look this way, his body tautly muscled and perfect under sun-bronzed skin, his hips narrow, his legs long and powerful, giving him the easy, flowing walk of a thoroughbred stallion. And that was what he was, a thoroughbred who would use his charm to get women into his bed as readily as he’d used it to get his hands on his uncle’s money.

  Conor came to a dead stop. A frown creased his face; he cocked his head to the side and then, slowly, he looked up.

  Arden’s hand flew to her throat and she shrank back against the wall. He couldn’t see her, she knew that. There were sheer curtains across the glass and the sun was reflecting on the pane. Still, he was staring at her window, and if she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he was staring right into her eyes.

  She took a deep breath, and then another. ‘Stop being so silly,’ she whispered.

  Still, she waited motionless while the seconds passed until finally Conor gave his head a little shake, tucked his hands into his pockets, and continued walking towards the pool.

  Arden exhaled sharply. This was ridiculous! The man was making her crazy. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. People could say that Conor Martinez was the Master of El Corazon, but it was meaningless. Felix was in charge here, and...

  She went very still. Conor paused beside the lounger and said something to Linda, who nodded and pointed to the bottle beside her. He smiled, took it, then squatted beside her and splashed some liquid into the palm of his hand. With long, slow strokes, he began applying it to Linda’s shoulders. She smiled, then stretched as sensuously as a well-fed cat. Her hands went to her hair and plunged into it; she held the dark mass up and away from her shoulders. The action made her breasts lift towards Conor. He paused, touched his hand lightly to the girl’s cheek...

  Arden spun away from the window, snatched an oversized white T-shirt from the chair, and tugged it over her head.

  Let Conor Martinez and his ladyfriend play whatever games they liked, she thought as she wrenched open the door. She certainly wasn’t going to stay around and watch.

  Arden sighed and rolled lazily on to her belly. The sand was warm, the sun hot, and her toes were just far enough in the water so that she was aware of the delicious contrast in temperatures. All in all, she felt relaxed and content.

  ‘Almost decadent,’ she murmured, smiling to herself as she trailed her fingertips through the soft, clean sand.

  After a moment, she rolled over again, then sat up and leaned back on her hands. How beautiful it was here. She was completely alone and had been for hours, with nothing but the lake, the sky, and the jewelled iridescence of the hummingbirds to keep her company.

  And she was perfectly content, even without a book to read. Sighing, she closed her eyes. The only thing she missed was lunch, or, at least, something cool to drink, but she’d decided to head straight for the lake and not to make any detours after she’d observed that touching little scene beside the pool. All she’d wanted to
do was get as far from El Corazon as she could manage—

  ‘Are you trying to roast yourself to death?’

  Arden’s eyes flew open. Conor was standing over her, his hands planted on his hips, his legs apart, the expression on his face stony.

  ‘What are you trying to do?’ she gasped, ‘scare me to death?’

  ‘You’re lucky I came along,’ he said brusquely. ‘Another few minutes and you’d be burned to a crisp.’

  She glared up at him. He was still wearing the cutoffs but he’d topped them with a shirt that hung open, revealing glimpses of his muscled chest and ridged abdomen. Her gaze fell to his navel and to the silken line of dark hair that arrowed past it until it was lost beneath the low-slung shorts.

  A sudden dizziness snatched at her and tilted the horizon. Of course she was dizzy, she thought irritably. Here she sat, her head held at a crazy angle so she could carry on a conversation she didn’t want to have in the first place!

  ‘What I do is none of your business,’ she snapped. She started to rise, but Conor had already dropped to his knees beside her.

  ‘Frankly, Miss Miller,’ he said between his teeth, ‘I don’t much give a damn if you turn yourself into a french fried potato. But you won’t be any good to my uncle if you end up sick. Drop those straps.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me.’ He dug into his shirt pocket, took out a small plastic tube, and twisted it open. ‘It’s probably too late to matter, but I’ll put some sun block on your shoulders.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I—hey!’ She gasped as he began stroking his hand over her skin. ‘Hey, that’s cold.’

  ‘Only because you’re practically bien cocido.’

  ‘I am not well done,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘If you’re not, it isn’t for lack of trying. Turn around.’

  Did she have a choice? Not really, not when his hand was firmly on her shoulder and the feel of it told her that he was probably right, that she was probably burning instead of tanning. Arden gritted her teeth and scooted around until her back was to him.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’

  ‘What’s ridiculous is a gringa with skin the colour of cream offering herself to the sun. Turn towards me again.’

  She did, her body unyielding and stiff. She watched as he squeezed more ointment into the palm of his hand, then began smoothing it over her throat. His fingers moved lightly against her flesh, dancing across her collarbones to her shoulders, then slid down her arms. A chill went through her again, and she shuddered.

  ‘That’s enough.’

  ‘Dammit, look at your legs!’

  She looked down foolishly, her gaze following his. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Lie back.’

  ‘No. I mean—’ Arden caught her breath. His hand was on her thigh, caressing her skin. No. No, he wasn’t doing that at all, he was—be was simply putting a layer of sun block on her, but—but—

  She sat up, slapping his hand away. ‘I said, that’s enough! Maybe Linda likes to be petted and stroked, but I—’ Their eyes met and held for long seconds, and then Arden flushed. ‘You needn’t have gone to all this trouble,’ she said, her voice sharp as she scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m going back to the house anyway.’

  ‘Were you watching us?’ She looked down at Conor. There was an amused little smile angling across his mouth. The smile grew, and he laughed softly as he rose and stood beside her. ‘You were, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was not,’ Arden snapped. She brushed sand from her bottom, then turned and began marching up the beach to where she’d left her things. ‘I just happened to look out my window, and—’

  ‘Linda’s a child.’

  ‘Hah!’

  ‘I tucked her in when she was three.’

  ‘I don’t care what you did for her then or what you do for her now.’

  ‘Then why did it bother you to see us together?’

  Arden spun around. A breeze blew her hair across her face, and she grabbed the strands and shoved them behind her ear.

  ‘It didn’t.’

  ‘Ah.’ His brows lifted. ‘I should have known. Your only concern is my uncle’s welfare.’

  “That’s right, it is. Now, if you’re done intruding on my day off...’ She swung away, snatched up her things, and started across the sand.

  ‘Just a minute.’

  ‘Goodbye, señor,’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘Damn it, I told you to wait!’

  ‘And I told you, this is—ouch!’ The breath whistled from her lungs as Conor’s fingers curled around her arm. “That hurts!’

  He spun her around to face him. ‘Of course it does, you little fool. That’s what I’ve been telling you. You’ve gone and got yourself a hell of a burn.’

  Arden’s smile was as warm and real as a shark’s. ‘Don’t get too excited about it. I’ll still show up at your uncle’s side, bright and early tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You’re damned right you will, so long as that’s what he wants.’

  ‘As for this,’ she said, raising her arm and looking at it, ‘it will fade to a tan by tonight. I never burn.’

  ‘Everyone bums down here, especially gringas.’ Conor’s mouth thinned with distaste. ‘You’re all convinced a vacation’s not a success until you’ve fried to a crisp.’

  ‘Aside from the fact that you’re hardly on expert on what gringas think or don’t think,’ Arden said, ‘you seem to have forgotten, señor, that I am not here for a holiday. I am an employee at El Corazon.’ She paused for emphasis. ‘Your uncle’s employee, not yours.’

  His teeth glinted in a cold smile. ‘That’s a matter for some debate, since I am the one responsible for running this ranch.’

  ‘So Felix told me.’

  ‘Have you been snooping, Miss Miller?’ That icy smile flashed on and off again. ‘Making certain, perhaps, that the old man’s assets are all you hope them to be?’

  Arden wrenched her arm free. ‘Your uncle told me about your arrangement.’

  ‘You mean,’ he said, almost lazily, ‘he told you that I’m just biding my time, waiting for the day El Corazon is mine?’ He grinned at the look of shock on Arden’s face. ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart? Did you think I didn’t know he’s been complaining about me to everyone who’d listen?’

  ‘He didn’t complain, he simply told me how you’ve taken over things here—’

  ‘Which distresses you no end, since that’s what you’d planned on doing yourself.’

  ‘Is that why you followed me here? To make accusations?’

  ‘Followed you?’ His brows rose. ‘I didn’t even know you were here until I saw you stretched out like an iguana, broiling in the sun.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’

  ‘Do you think you’re the only one who comes to this lake, Arden?’ He shook his head. ‘This is one of my favourite spots—I found it when I was just a kid, the first time my father sent me here to spend a couple of weeks with my uncle.’ He smiled. ‘Felix looked me over as if I were some species of animal he’d never seen before, said he hoped I knew how to behave in polite society, gave me the run of the place, and promptly forgot I existed.’

  Arden gave him a curious glance. ‘You mean, Felix had never met you before? But he’s your uncle.’

  ‘I call him that, but actually he’s my great-uncle. And my father wasn’t exactly a favoured nephew, especially after he married my mother.’

  Don’t ask him to explain, she told herself, nothing about this man is of any interest to you...

  ‘Why?’ she said, hating herself as she said it.

  Conor shrugged. ‘Felix saw himself as the family patriarch. I suppose it had something to do with all the money he’d amassed, ranching cattle and raising coffee— he gave orders, and everybody took them.’ He began walking slowly along the sand, and Arden fell in next to him. ‘Everybody but my father.’ He laughed softly. ‘He wasn’t interested in cattle and coffee. He had dreams of being an artist.’


  ‘An artist?’

  ‘A painter.’ Conor dug his toe into the sand and kicked at it. ‘But he had no choice. My grandparents died when my father was a boy, and Felix raised him. Felix had no children, so my father was the answer to his prayers—an heir to take over the running of El Corazon.’

  She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it worked—for a while. My father went to work here on the finca, with Felix, travelled for him on business... That was how he met my mother, during a trip to the States, to secure a loan from some New England bankers.’

  Of course. His mother had been a North American. That explained the perfect English, the green eyes.

  ‘Molly Flynn,’ he said with a little smile. ‘From Boston.’

  And it explained that strange first name. Arden gave him another quick glance. Yes, she could see it clearly now. The man walking slowly beside her was a fascinating blend of Costa Rican and Irish-American; he had his father’s macho temperament, his mother’s gift of the gab, and he’d inherited the startling good looks of both.

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  Arden flushed. ‘Nothing,’ she said, looking quickly towards the blue water of the lake. ‘I mean, I was—I was thinking that it must have been interesting, being raised by parents from such different backgrounds.’

  ‘My father died when I was ten. Before that, he raised me alone.’

  ‘But what happened to your mother?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ His voice had gone flat. ‘I was very small when she left one morning and didn’t come back.’

  ‘Left?’ Arden came to a stop and turned towards him. ‘What do you mean, she left?’

  Conor stooped and picked up a handful of sand. ‘I mean exactly that.’ A muscle knotted in his jaw as he let the sand sift through his fingers. ‘She’d thought she was marrying into the Romero dynasty. But my father, the poor fool, decided that love had given him the courage to devote his life to what he really wanted.’

  ‘He was going to paint,’ Arden said softly, her eyes on his face.