Don Joaquin's Pride

by Lynne Graham

  The lunchtime break could not come soon enough for Lucy. Her back aching, she rose from the now hated typewriter and approached the older woman. ‘I’m sorry for wasting so much of your time,’ Lucy murmured guiltily.

  Informed that she might as well take the afternoon off, Lucy turned away, assuming that that was a polite way of telling her not to bother coming back. Her relief was intense. But Dominga then went on to tell her that she would receive basic instruction on how to use a computer the following morning.

  Lucy departed, feeling anything but grateful for that offer. Her pride had been hurt by the poor showing she had already made and she was afraid that further embarrassment now awaited her. But then what had she expected? she asked herself ruefully. Her job at the library had been unskilled. She had stamped books, packed shelves and occasionally assisted people to find a particular volume. More demanding responsibilities had been the province of staff with degree qualifications. Offered the chance to do evening study, which would have enabled her to apply for a better position, she had had to refuse because she couldn’t attend the classes.

  As she crossed the magnificent hall towards the staircase, Joaquin strode in through the front doors. He had obviously been out riding. Sheathed in a crisp white polo shirt, beige jodhpurs and gleaming dark brown leather boots, he took Lucy’s breath away. ‘Drop-dead gorgeous’ might have been a phrase specially coined just for Joaquin Del Castillo’s benefit. The shirt outlined his wide shoulders, muscular chest and taut flat stomach. The jodhpurs accentuated every sleek line of his long powerful thighs and narrow hips. His black hair was ruffled, his jade-green eyes brilliant as jewels beneath his level brows.

  Her heartbeat went crazy. He was just so beautiful, so vibrant. He moved with the prowling grace of a jungle cat. He also emanated a level of high-octane energy which fascinated her. And when he looked at her she felt dizzy, excited, weak at the knees with a wild pent-up anticipation she couldn’t control. He signalled her with a fluid movement of one imperious hand.

  It was a moment of revelation for Lucy. It was the moment she admitted that in all her life no man had ever made her feel the way he did, and that very probably no other man ever would. She had started falling for him when she was ill, had learned to look for him then, had felt more secure when he was around. Trust…was that when she had given her trust? For, most ironically, she did trust Joaquin Del Castillo.

  He might be a serious threat to the happiness of the sister she adored, but she respected the strong sense of ethics which drove him. How many wealthy powerful men would have taken the time and the trouble to establish why a former employee had decided to keep on working beyond retirement? And how many would have then attempted to right the wrong which had been done?

  ‘Lucy…’ Joaquin breathed, his accent very thick.

  His crystalline gaze dazzled her. She stilled, and a split second later, his mouth claimed hers in hungry possession. She did not know who moved first. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that the awesomely necessary physical connection was made. Her heart thumping like a pounding drum, she clung to his shoulders as he crushed her closer. With the hard heat of his lean, powerful physique welded to her smaller, softer frame, she trembled violently, excitement surging through her like a dangerous drug.

  Joaquin freed her mouth and dragged in a jagged breath. He stared down at her with brilliant eyes. ‘The next time I won’t let you go, querida.’

  Only slowly returning to an awareness of her surroundings, and literally reeling on her feet in the aftermath of that embrace, Lucy drew back from him, stiff as the doll he had labelled her in her efforts to reclaim some composure. ‘We—’

  His nostrils flared ‘There is no “we”,’ he cut in with ruthless cool.

  The heady colour in her cheeks ebbed. ‘Of course not…I know that.’ But her voice rose in pitch on that admission, a slight quiver betraying her flagging control. She turned away in a rather uncoordinated circle, struggling to get a grip on both her flailing emotions and her treacherous body, which had let her down in the most revealing way of all.

  ‘Have you finished playing at being a typist?’ Joaquin enquired smoothly.

  ‘Yes…’ Lucy mumbled as she headed for the stairs as if her life depended on getting there.

  ‘I thought you were going to make me eat my words…’

  A humourless laugh escaped Lucy. ‘Why bother?’

  ‘Sign that agreement. We both know that you can afford to reimburse Fidelio,’ Joaquin drawled in a tone of derision. ‘I’ll have you back at the airport within the hour…’

  Lucy shut her eyes so tight that they ached. Rigid-backed, she mounted the stairs. Afraid that she was being watched, she didn’t dare quicken her steps until she knew herself to be out of sight. Then she hurtled down the corridor and into her bedroom to fling herself in a heap on the bed.

  Was it true? Was it true that Cindy had sufficient funds to immediately reimburse Fidelio Paez? Lucy didn’t think so. Lucy couldn’t credit that her twin could have that much money stashed away. Then the tears she had hoped to hold back by concentrating on that more practical question simply overflowed. Furious at her own weakness, she stuffed her face into the pillows and cried.

  She was all worked up, and over what? So she was powerfully attracted to Joaquin Del Castillo, and was savaged by the nasty reality that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her! Was it her reaction to him which was creating the problem? Or was he just one of those guys who was over-sexed and would make a pass at any reasonable-looking female? Face it, Lucy, a little voice said drily, he’s out of your league anyway, and he wouldn’t be looking at you twice if there was any competition.

  She was already so sick and tired of pretending to be Cindy. Every natural sense prompted her to tell the truth, but intelligence warned her that Joaquin would be even more outraged by the deliberate deception she and her sister had practised. There was no easy way out—no way she could turn something bad into something even acceptable. The minute Joaquin found that the real Cindy Paez was still in London, he would swing into vengeful action. What might he do in the heat of the moment? She shivered. Cindy did not deserve to have her life wrecked a second time. Lucy would protect her sister for as long as she could while Cindy decided how she was going to handle the situation with Roger.

  The arrival of a maid with a lunch tray wakened Lucy up out of the doze she had slid into so easily. She ate with appetite and then decided to go out for a walk. Discarding her twin’s now crumpled suit, she donned a floral chiffon skirt. She ignored the long fancy jacket the skirt was supposed to be worn with and teamed it instead with the gypsy top and canvas shoes which she had worn on her arrival at Hacienda de Oro.

  Walking out through the front doors minutes later, Lucy breathed in deep in the golden sunshine, delighted to be back in the fresh air. She soon discovered that the lush, informal gardens which contained some incredibly beautiful flowering trees were as spectacular as the views across the deep valley. In the distance she could see the top of an old building showing above the tree canopy, and she began to move in the direction of the forest that ringed the grounds of the house.

  A ancient-looking paved lane wound through the trees and Lucy followed it. It was late afternoon by then, and very, very hot, but the further she explored, the more entranced she became. Wildly colourful birds wheeled and dipped overhead, uttering shrill and strange cries. A monkey swung across an overhanging branch, startling her. She laughed as she watched the bright-eyed little creature perch on a tree nearby to study her with patent curiosity. It was like no other world she had ever seen.

  Calmer now that she had had the chance to reflect, she saw that she had taken entirely the wrong attitude towards the office job which Joaquin had so facetiously offered her. Naturally he didn’t expect her to stay the course! And it was for that very reason that she should stick it out until he got tired of having her around. If she couldn’t prove that she was reliable, how could she expect him to believe any prom
ise she might make about repaying Fidelio’s money? A half-hearted approach allied to ineptitude was scarcely the way to impress a male who already thought she was lazy and frivolous! So tomorrow she would make a real effort with the computer training.

  That decision made, Lucy rounded another bend on the worn path she was following. There she faltered to a startled halt, violet eyes opening very wide. Only now did she recall Yolanda’s comment about the Hacienda de Oro being an archaeologist’s dream destination. Before her in a vast clearing stretched a seemingly endless expanse of Mayan ruins. The roofcomb of a temple was what she had glimpsed above the trees from the grounds of the house.

  Lucy had always had been interested in the ancient world. Had she gone to university, she would have studied archaeology. Then, five years earlier, Cindy had sent her mother and her sister a casual postcard announcing her marriage to a Guatemalan citizen. Deafening silence had followed until her twin had contacted them again just eleven months ago. For years Lucy had fondly imagined that her long-lost sister was living in Guatemala with her husband. So she had had a special interest in reading about the astounding ruined cities of the Maya which were sprinkled across Central America.

  She was thrilled to see the extensive and well-maintained site stretching before her. Before she left London, she had rather guiltily wondered if she would get an opportunity to visit one of the famous sites in the Petén, but had deemed it unlikely when she had believed she was travelling out to spend her time comforting a dying man. And yet now, here on the very doorstep as it were, lay the ultimate experience for a keen amateur archaeologist…

  Some timeless period later, wholly absorbed in examining in stone what she had previously only studied on a printed page, Lucy’s wandering exploration was finally disturbed.

  ‘What the hell have you been doing all this time?’ A familiar accented drawl shot at her from a good twenty feet away.

  Not having heard Joaquin’s approach, Lucy jumped and whirled round in shock. Joaquin was poised by a giant stone stela, surveying her with apparent outrage.

  ‘Sorry…?’ As always, he looked staggeringly handsome, and with a feeling of embarrassed self-loathing Lucy tore her gaze from him again. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to think about him either. Uppermost in her memory was a recollection of her own distress earlier. ‘There is no “we”,’ Joaquin had said drily. He should not have needed to state the obvious. He might not be averse to the inviting signals she could not help putting out in his direction, but essentially Joaquin Del Castillo despised her!

  ‘Armed guards patrol these ruins twenty-four hours a day to protect them. Suppose you had been mistaken for a looter? Where are your wits? You can’t just wander off into the jungle as if you’re strolling down an English country lane!’ Joaquin thundered at her, jade-green eyes glittering with dark fury.

  ‘I’m not in the jungle—’

  ‘You’re in the rainforest, you stupid fool!’ Joaquin launched at her on full throttle, making her flinch where she stood. ‘Have you any idea how long it has taken me to find you?’

  ‘But I wasn’t lost…I just followed the path!’ Lucy wondered why he looked as if he was just getting more furious with every word she spoke, and then, realising that she was staring at him again, she flushed miserably.

  Joaquin snatched in an obvious breath of restraint, a feverish line of colour demarcating his fabulous cheekbones. He punched out a number on the mobile phone gripped in one lean hand and spoke into it in urgent Spanish. Then he studied her afresh. ‘We’ve been worried about you! You left the hacienda over three hours ago.’

  Three hours ago? People worrying? In dismay, Lucy checked her watch. ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry…I had no idea I’d been out here so long!’

  ‘Stop playing it cool. I’m not fooled,’ Joaquin delivered with withering derision. ‘You were lost.’

  ‘No…’ But Lucy looked back in the direction she had come, only to find that she was no longer so sure of that direction. She might well have had some difficulty finding her way back to the path, she conceded grudgingly.

  ‘And since I cannot believe that Mayan civilisation is an overwhelming passion of yours—’

  ‘I’d just like to see the temple before I leave…’ Screening him out with obstinate determination, Lucy focused on the massive elaborate building which she had been steadily working towards but continually tempted away from. ‘Please, just give me five minutes.’

  ‘Lucy…’

  Since it seemed pretty obvious that she was unlikely to get the chance of a return visit, Lucy closed her ears and hurried off.

  ‘Just who are you trying to impress here? Have you even the slightest conception of what you’re looking at?’ Joaquin demanded crushingly.

  From the steps, Lucy was engaged in studying the vast weathered masks of deities adorning the huge ornate entrance.

  ‘Well, that’s Hun Hunapu, the maize god…and that one is—I think—Chac, the god of rain…and this one’s Kinich Ahau, the sun god,’ she replied self-consciously, and then passed on into the dim interior. ‘And I bet I’m mispronouncing those names, because I’ve only read them and never heard anyone say them out loud. Does this temple have a pib na?’

  In the incredibly charged silence which followed, Lucy chewed her lower lip and glanced at Joaquin. A deep frownline between his level dark brows, he was studying her with fixed intensity.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked.

  Joaquin breathed in deep. ‘Sí…the temple has an underground room.’

  ‘With murals?’ Lucy prompted, and then she sighed. ‘I suppose the humidity has wrecked them?’

  ‘Not quite…’ Joaquin continued to scrutinise her with brilliant green eyes while giving out the impression of a male having a rare struggle to concentrate. ‘But while the conservation project is underway to preserve them they are not available for viewing.’

  The silence lay heavy between them. Joaquin was very still. Lucy stole a questioning glance up at his lean strong face.

  His aggressive jawline squaring, he met her eyes levelly. ‘On one count I have wronged you, and for that I owe you a sincere apology. Only out of respect for your late husband’s memory could you have taken such an interest in the Maya.’

  His sincerity was patent. But that apology hit Lucy like a slap. The colour drained from her cheeks. Joaquin believed he was addressing Mario’s widow and he was finally showing some respect. Only he had naturally misinterpreted the connection which had first fired her fascination with the Maya. Suddenly she felt desperately ashamed of the deception she was engaged in.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ she said stiffly.

  But Joaquin rested a light staying hand on her arm. ‘You must have loved Mario very much—’

  Her discomfiture increasing, Lucy tugged free and started down the steps again. ‘It’s not something I want to talk about.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but when we were children Mario and I were close friends.’

  ‘I’m sure that didn’t last long,’ she heard herself snipe, because she was so keen for him to change the subject. ‘The heir to the Del Castillo fortune and the ranch foreman’s son?’

  ‘It was never like that between us,’ Joaquin responded in a quiet tone of rebuke. ‘Mario still thought enough of that bond to call me on your wedding day and confess that he was happier than he had ever hoped to be in this life.’

  That was an admission which Lucy knew she would pass on to her twin when the timing was right. Only at that particular moment she did not want to be drawn into Joaquin’s recollections of his childhood playmate. With every honest word he spoke her own subterfuge made her feel like the lowest of the low.

  Joaquin caught her hand in his. ‘Look at me…’ he urged. ‘I pride myself on my judgement, but perhaps I was too quick to judge you for failing my standards after Mario’s death.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Lucy cut in dismissively.

  ‘Por Dios! At least give me cr
edit for finally trying to comprehend what might have made you behave in such an unseemly fashion within weeks of the funeral!’

  Lucy yanked her fingers free of his. At that demand, her discomfiture blazed up into angry resentment. ‘You patronising bastard…’ she whispered in furious reproach.

  ‘Que pasa?’ Joaquin demanded, his lean darkly handsome features clenching hard on that unexpected attack.

  ‘You…you’re wrong about everything!’ Lucy flung at him in impassioned defence of the sister she loved. ‘And you’re far too spoilt to be capable of understanding.’

  ‘Spoilt?’ Joaquin repeated in ringing disbelief.

  ‘How many houses does one man need to live in? How could you ever know what it’s like to be poor and depressed and not care about anything any more?’ she asked in blunt condemnation. ‘What would you know about the kind of terrible grief that sends people off the rails?’

  After that outburst, which had truly come from the heart, Lucy flung him a final look of disgust and took off. He shouted in her wake. Lucy ignored him, which wasn’t difficult when he was calling after her in Spanish. In any case she could see the path now and could see no reason to put up with his company when she could find her own way back to the house.

  As she sped down the path, she was recalling the evening that her twin had talked about Mario’s sudden heart attack. Cindy had confided that she had felt so devastated and wretched after Mario died that she had done some things she had since regretted. Lucy hadn’t pried but she guessed she knew what those things had been now. Stripping off for the camera, getting involved with married men. Men who ought to have had more decency, for Cindy could only have been seventeen at the time!

  Emerging from her troubled thoughts, Lucy noticed that the vegetation surrounding her seemed much more dense than she had noticed earlier. Exotic plants flourished in a fantastic lush carpet below the trees. Huge ferns, spiky bromeliads and pale orchids shone in the dim, misty light. Yes, the light was fading, or possibly the tree canopy was heavier at this point, she reasoned, and then she heard the sound of rushing water.