by Robin Gianna
“Oh, she’s so beautiful!” Miranda breathed as she looked at the statue. “I’ve never seen anything like this. What is she made of?”
“It’s said she was carved from wood in Jerusalem. Apparently her dark color is from hundreds of years of candles being burned in front of her, though she has been painted black more than once over the centuries. Many have reported miracles after being here.”
“There was a time I didn’t believe in miracles, but then one happened to me. And this place is so amazing, who knows?”
“Indeed. Who knows?” Personally, Mateo didn’t believe in miracles, though he’d never tell his deeply Catholic mother that. “What miracle happened to you?”
Her smile grew a little stiff. “Not important. Silly of me to say that, really. It wasn’t really a miracle. So now where do we go?”
“It’s possible to climb to the cave where the Black Virgin was hidden, but that’s very strenuous. We should probably just explore the area a little more then head back, to give you time to rest before having to pretend to be my adoring fiancée.”
“Adoring? I don’t remember that being part of our deal.”
“Ah, my mother may get frustrated with me, but I think she’d expect my fiancée to think I’m wonderful.”
She chuckled, obviously knowing he was teasing. But, truthfully, he was a little worried how his parents would react to his pretend engagement. Being surprised and not happy that she was an American was a given. But would they be cool with her, or possibly rude? They certainly hadn’t been very cordial to her at his apartment.
His parents were normally polite, but the loss of their beloved elder son had hit them both hard. He knew they were still grieving deeply, and worried about his father’s health. Weren’t they all? That pain and worry, combined with feeling stressed over the future of the dukedom, had taken their toll, eating away at their innate decorum.
He sighed. If only this plan with Miranda would make his parents decide they wanted him to be there only part of the time anyway. Choosing a bride—pretending to choose—who they wouldn’t deem suitable for the future Duke would hopefully give them second thoughts about their insistence that he come back permanently. He might not be able to ignore the guilt gnawing at his gut, but thinking about living here full-time made his stomach churn.
No point in fighting that argument with himself all over again. The week with Miranda here posing as his fiancée would unfold as it would, and he’d figure out the next steps as they went along.
Thankfully, their trip down the funicular didn’t seem to stress Miranda as much as coming up had, and they talked like old friends on the drive back. Mateo was struck all over again at the odd connection he felt with her. Maybe it had something to do with the ruse, but he didn’t think so. He’d felt that way during the very first hours they’d spent together during and after the tunnel collapse. A mysterious chemistry that just happened sometimes, he supposed, but he couldn’t remember feeling so utterly relaxed and happy to be with someone, even as the dreaded first meeting with his parents loomed over them.
* * *
“Here we are, with plenty of time for you to rest before dinner.” He drove straight up to the guest house. “Thank you for joining me, and for not hating me for putting you through the funicular.”
“It’s good for me to face my fears. Maybe that’s the big lesson I’m going to get from this trip.”
“I hope it won’t be full of fears for you to overcome, Miranda. That it will be more about adventure and having fun together.” The truth of that struck him as he remembered how scared and vulnerable she’d looked, and how protective it had made him feel. As much as he wanted her here to help him with his family problems, he knew that, even more, he wanted to help her feel more confident and appreciated, which seemed to be lacking in her life for some inexplicable reason.
With that goal now forefront in his mind, he nudged her into the guest house, slipped off her coat, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, wishing he could kiss her for real. “Get some rest. I’ll be back at seven to take you to the house.”
“Okay.”
That uncomfortable look slipped onto her face again, and it made his chest tighten. He knew then that he had to somehow try to smooth the rough edges off the meeting with his parents ahead of time. Let them know they had to be on their best behavior without actually telling them about the engagement, because he had a feeling that if they had too much time to think about it before they met her, they’d be so upset they’d forget their manners entirely.
“They’re not ogres, Miranda. It will be fine, I promise.”
“I know. I’m being silly. Again. It’s not even a real engagement, anyway, so there’s no reason them being upset should bother me.”
“Right. See you in a bit.” He gave her a smile and a quick hug to hopefully reassure her before heading to the house to find his parents.
“Paula. Are Mother and Father here?”
“They got back from the doctor’s about an hour ago, and are having coffee in the front room.”
Seeing them sitting like they always did in their favorite chairs made him feel a warm familiarity, at the same time the knife edge of guilt stabbed his gut. His mother was reading, but his father just stared out the window.
Something about seeing them here at home was different than when they’d been in New York, and the knife twisted deeper. How had he not noticed how thin his father had gotten? How pallid and frail? Even his hair, which had always been thick and difficult to tame, seemed thinner and more gray. But grief as well as illness could age a person, and it struck him that both his parents looked about ten years older than they had at his brother’s funeral.
Mateo’s throat tightened, and he had to swallow before he could speak. “Madre. Padre. How did the doctor appointment go?”
“Mateo!” His mother stood and wrapped her arms around him and he held her close for a long moment, trying to remember the last time he’d done that. “Paula told us you and your friend were here, and had gone out for a bit.”
“Yes, we went to Montserrat. I haven’t been there for a long time.”
“You haven’t been home at all for a long time, other than for your brother’s funeral.”
And here they were, straight to familiar criticism. He bit back a negative response, instead walking to his father’s chair and crouching down to grasp his bony hands. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad.”
Mateo knew his father’s pride demanded that he be stoic, and he was never sure how to handle that. Whether or not he should leave it at that, or ask specific questions about his father’s difficulty sleeping, or if his co-ordination was worsening, or if he was scared at the ways his body functions were deteriorating.
“Any new medications or therapies they want to try?”
“They want him to try a new medicine for his tremor, and see if it will also help him walk better,” his mother answered.
Mateo nodded, making a mental note to look later at what they’d given him. He gently squeezed his father’s hands, then stood. “Well, as you know, my...friend is here with me. Thank you, Madre, for having the guest house looking so beautiful. Your special Christmas touches are everywhere, which Miranda appreciates.”
A smile banished the seriousness and disapproval he’d come to expect from her. “I’m glad. What time are you bringing her here?”
“Paula told me seven. Is that right?”
“Yes. We look forward to it. But remember, Mateo.”
Her stern expression back, he had a feeling he knew what was coming. “Remember what?”
“We have important things to talk about privately. So be sure to leave us with plenty of time to do that before you go back to the States.”
He glanced at his father, who was just looking at him with those scarily sunken
eyes. When he turned back to his frowning mother, his gut tightened as he realized all over again how complicated this situation really was. How hard it was going to be to find a solution that made everyone reasonably happy. “I won’t forget. And I hope that, despite that upcoming conversation, you’ll be cordial and welcoming to Miranda. See you in a few hours.”
CHAPTER SIX
MIRANDA CURLED HER fingers into her palms, the ring on her finger feeling strangely uncomfortable. She stared at the huge, heavy wood front door of Mateo’s family home, awed by it all over again. Small evergreen trees covered with twinkling lights sat in decorative concrete pots that at each side of the wide stone porch, and the whole house looked like something out of a travel magazine during the holidays.
The door opened before they reached it, with Paula standing there, all smiles. “Welcome! Come in! Your parents are expecting you in the blue salon for drinks and appetizers before dinner.”
“Thanks, Paula.” Mateo took Miranda’s hand and thumbed the ring as they walked into his parents’ house. The feel of his hand holding hers might have eased her discomfort about their upcoming big “announcement” to his parents if he hadn’t been wearing a slightly grim expression. “Thank you for wearing this. I appreciate it.”
And how strange had it felt slipping it on? It wasn’t as though she’d ever been in a school play to hone the minimum of acting skills required for this charade. At the same time, though, she couldn’t deny that wearing such a gorgeous ring would be nice under different circumstances. Like a real engagement to someone she loved, and thinking about this deception had her feeling nervous and uncomfortable all over again. Was it wrong of her—and of Mateo—to be deceiving his parents this way?
Butterflies flapped around in Miranda’s belly, even though she knew it didn’t make sense, since she’d known all along why she was on this trip in the first place. And she’d already met Mateo’s parents, right? Or sort of met them. While wearing Mateo’s robe. With him naked in the other room.
Heat flooded her cheeks to join her nervous jitters. It seemed only a few hours ago she’d been so happy she’d agreed to come to Spain with Mateo. Now? Now she knew that crazy was exactly that—what had she been thinking?
“Are you ready?”
“I’m... Honestly, I don’t know.” She looked around the amazing old house, with its stone walls, fine carpets, and gorgeous furniture. Decorated even more lavishly for Christmas than the guest house, and she felt more out of place than when she’d first moved in with the Davenports as a teen. “I feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure I’ll be able to act like we’re engaged, to convince your parents that we really are.”
“Then I’ll be sure to do something to make you feel more convincing, hmm?”
She stared up into his dark eyes, filled with an impish teasing that had banished his frown. What that “something” might be had her worrying even more as he led her into a beautifully appointed room. A stunning Christmas tree so tall it touched the high ceiling was loaded with small white lights, gorgeous and unusual ornaments, and silver tinsel. Several surfaces in the room featured golden angels and heavy candles set in loops of evergreen that smelled wonderful.
The long, wide room they entered, filled with two settees and comfortable-looking chairs, was empty of humans, which had Miranda drawing a deep breath of relief. Maybe his parents weren’t coming after all. The second that hope came to mind, she chided herself for the ridiculous thought. Getting together with them and making their big announcement was the whole point of the evening, and the entire trip, wasn’t it?
“How about a drink? A cocktail or a glass of wine?”
“Wine, please. White.” With any luck, maybe a little alcohol would calm her nerves, because right now they were jangling so much she thought Mateo might actually hear them.
He didn’t let go of her hand until they’d walked to a well-stocked bar made of what looked like carved mahogany. After pouring wine into two crystal glasses, his dark gaze lifted to hers, so intense she wondered what he might be seeing on her face.
Then, to her utter shock, his hands cupped her face and he kissed her. Not a chaste kiss either—it was a full onslaught of heat that stole her breath and ignited a flame deep inside her quivering belly. The light scent of his cologne filled her nose and a tingle swept from her head to her toes as they curled in her shoes. The surprise of it faded as quickly as the kiss had begun, his mouth moving on hers so slowly, so expertly her heart pounded hard as she leaned into him. Her hands lifted to his wide shoulders and her head tipped involuntarily to one side, wanting more of the hot, delicious taste of him.
Just as she was sinking so deeply into the kiss she felt dizzy from it, he lifted his head. Barely able to open her eyes, she met his heated gaze, dark and alive, only to see it slide right past her one second later.
“Ah, Madre. Padre. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in,” Mateo said smoothly, not seeming at all embarrassed.
Dazed, Miranda spun to see his parents standing just inside the room, and horror froze her veins. First they’d seen her fresh from the shower, then kissing Mateo like she wanted to devour him whole. She was positive that’s what it had looked like, because that’s exactly how she’d felt. Good Lord, they probably thought she was a sex addict or something.
For a wild second, she wondered if that might be true, considering her embarrassing reaction to Mateo’s kiss.
His parents both stood motionless, staring. Then with deep frowns they slowly moved toward the two settees set across from one another. A coffee table was placed between the couches, and Paula was currently putting plates on it, piled high with several kinds of food.
“You told us you were bringing a guest. We thought it was one of your old friends from here.” And it was more than obvious that his mother was not at all pleased that it wasn’t.
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because of our new situation. Your obligations.”
Mateo didn’t respond to that comment, but she could see him working to seem relaxed. Miranda tried hard to shore up indifference, remind herself she was here to help Mateo and not win a popularity contest, but couldn’t help but feel that familiar hollow in her gut. The one she’d felt when she’d first shown up at the Davenport home to face Vanessa Davenport’s hostility. That she felt every time she was at a family event she was supposed to pretend to be a part of, despite Vanessa’s dislike.
“I don’t see what our...difficulties have to do with Miranda. And I wanted it to be a surprise.” He cupped Miranda’s waist as he turned to her with an adoring smile on his face so convincing it was startling. The man should receive an acting award. “I was horribly amiss in not introducing you the last time you met. Miranda, I’d like you to meet my parents, Rafael and Ana. Mother and Father, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Dr. Miranda Davenport.”
“Fiancée?” Ana sank into the sofa, her face blanching so much that Miranda worried she might faint. “What?”
“I know this comes as a shock.” Mateo tugged her closer. She wondered if he’d sensed that her legs felt a little wobbly, and she definitely needed the support. “Miranda and I met at a tunnel collapse, rescuing a man together. And it was love at first sight, wasn’t it, querida?”
His smile was wide and coaxing, and she wanted to say, Not exactly. I believe you yelled and cursed at me. But she’d come here to help Mateo, though the way his mother was looking at her, like an unwelcome rodent that had found its way into their home, made her suddenly wish with all her heart that she’d never agreed to this.
“Yes, Mateo is a very special man.” She choked out the words, though they should have been easy to say since she knew it was true. Giving him the adoring gaze he was giving her might be even harder, but she tried, forcing her lips to curve into a stiff smile. “He swept me off my feet. Literally.”
Mateo chuckle
d and pressed his mouth to her temple, sliding it to her ear. “Nicely done,” he whispered. “Thank you for letting me kiss you.”
Her chest deflated a little, and she instantly berated herself for feeling disappointed at his words. Hadn’t she realized almost immediately that he’d only kissed her because they had an audience? Why would it hurt her feelings to hear him confirm it?
“I can’t believe you didn’t discuss this with us first.” His father focused his attention on Mateo as though Miranda wasn’t even there. “If you had stayed here, where you belong, we wouldn’t be so distant from one another. Why you had to move to New York is still a mystery to us. And to be an EMT when you could have chosen a dozen other careers here in Spain!”
“I chose to be an EMT because that’s the path that called to me. As did New York City. I could be anyone there, not treated differently because of who I am. Surely you understand that.”
“Yet you are part of this family, whether you like it or not. You must take on your responsibilities now that you are the heir.” His father’s voice quavered. “And marriage is a big decision. We would have liked to participate in that.”
“I understand that.” Miranda could see he was taking time to choose his words carefully. “I know Emilio was comfortable with you deciding who he should marry. But I’m a grown man who wants to decide on my own if, who, and when I’ll marry.”
“Camilla is a lovely girl, Mateo, and Emilio was very happy with her,” Ana protested. “You would do well to have a bride as lovely a person as she is. You have a responsibility to marry someone who understands our culture. Who is one of us.”
Miranda’s gut clenched at their total dismissal of her. Even though their engagement was fake, she couldn’t deny it felt horrible to be an interloper yet again. Someone utterly unwelcome to the matriarch of the house. Hadn’t she spent years trying to come to terms with that? Being faced with it again, however temporarily, made her want to run from the room and never come back.