The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal

by Robin Gianna

  “Got it.”

  Mateo reached to sit the kid on the ledge, and the moment he seemed secure there, Miranda had her arms around the child. She dragged him away from the edge until he was a good four feet from it, and Mateo was surprised to hear him start to cry even harder when the mother rushed over to him and Miranda and pulled him into her arms.

  Mateo hauled himself up and over the ledge to stand by the tree. Barely glancing at the howling child, he turned to look down at the father, knowing Miranda was more than capable of handling whatever the problem was with the boy.

  “Ready to catch the rope? When you do, pull yourself up with a hand-over-hand movement. On the count of three—one, two three.” Relieved that his first attempt at tossing the rope went straight to his hands, he and the man worked together. The guy slowly heaved himself up, jamming his feet into the rocks for leverage, and at the same time Mateo helped by pulling on the rope as he climbed. In a matter of minutes he was scrambling over the ledge and Mateo grabbed him by the armpits to help him get to safety. Obviously shaken, he stood and pumped Mateo’s hand.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” he gasped.

  “You okay?”

  The man nodded, catching his breath, then frowned when he saw their little boy was still extremely upset. “Is he hurt?” he asked, looking first at Mateo then at his wife. “Or is he just still scared?”

  Mateo turned to see Miranda, who’d moved far away from the ledge and was carefully checking the boy. She was now every inch the calm, medical professional who would make any worried parent feel better, and not the sexy, vibrant woman he’d been unable to resist kissing not long ago. Then he realized she had no idea what the parents were saying and needed to connect them all.

  “This is Dr. Davenport, she’s an emergency room doctor in the States. She doesn’t speak Spanish, but I’ll interpret as soon as she finishes her exam. Miranda,” he said, switching to English, “can you tell what’s going on? Find anything?”

  “One more minute.” Miranda carefully wrapped her fingers around the child’s arm, and received a scream in response. She glanced up at him, then smiled at the parents. “See the way he’s holding his arm close to his tummy? Tell them I’m almost positive this is nursemaid’s elbow, which isn’t serious. Can you ask if one of them yanked on his arm as he was falling off the path?”

  Mateo did as she asked, and, sure enough, they confirmed that the dad had grabbed the boy’s arm, trying to pull him up, but he’d slipped from his grasp.

  “All right,” Miranda said. “Please ask one of the parents to hold him in their lap. I’m going to check it again, then, assuming that’s it, I’ll pop the radius back into place. You have anything to distract him while I do that?”

  If the boy had been a grown man, he’d say that Miranda and her calm, friendly demeanor, gorgeous blue eyes and disheveled hair, which he realized he liked as much as her carefully combed bob, were plenty of distraction on their own. “I have a whistle in my pocket. Let’s see if he wants to blow it.”

  Her smile widened, and he loved the twinkle in her eyes. “That’s perfect. Wish I could use a whistle at the hospital, but probably other patients wouldn’t appreciate it. Is mom or dad ready?”

  Mateo spoke with the parents, and the dad took over the two older ones as the mother held the child close in her arms. Now that he was looking, he could see the boy’s arm was hanging limply at his side.

  “Now I see why he was holding onto that bush with only one arm. Which was nerve-racking, let me tell you. I thought he might lose his grip and fall before I got there. But don’t tell his parents.”

  “They already know you’re a hero, so why keep that a secret?”

  “Because heroes are never scared, don’t you know that?”

  She shook her head and grinned at him before turning to carefully palpate the boy’s entire arm, with shrieks that made his parents cringe following each movement.

  “Yep, that’s definitely it,” Miranda said. “Whistle time. Tell the parents to expect a loud scream, then he’ll be feeling fine, just a little bruised.”

  Mateo translated again, and the boy was, thankfully, fascinated by the whistle. As he was blasting everyone’s ears, Mateo watched Miranda gently tug on his arm, and even through the whistling he could hear the bone pop back into place. As expected, the boy screamed, the parents exclaimed in distress, then visibly relaxed when the boy’s misery quieted to mere sniffles.

  “You’re good with that whistle, young man,” Mateo said, trying to distract all of them now that the worst was over. “You want to keep it?”

  He nodded, and when he began to blow it again, his parents laughed, obviously relieved. They thanked both he and Miranda over and over again, the mother giving her a hard hug as Mateo re-rolled his rigging and placed it back in his pocket.

  “I bet they’re going to hang on to all three of them all the way back to wherever they’re parked,” Miranda said with a smile as she watched them move down the path. “How scary to see their little one fall over the embankment like that. I wonder what happened?”

  “Kids can move fast. One second they’re walking on a sidewalk, or in this case a path in the woods, the next they’ve darted into the street or off the edge. I see it all the time.”

  “I know. I regularly see the results of kids’ impulsiveness in the ER. I guess there’s no way to keep everyone safe all the time, is there?”

  “No.” His chest got that heavy feeling again, as her words sent him back to their earlier conversation. Some accidents—fatal accidents—were incomprehensible. Seemingly impossible. But when they happened, everyone else had to live through the tragedy, wondering what they might have done to prevent it.

  “I guess we’d better go back and gather up the picnic stuff before it attracts bears and we have another problem on our hands,” Miranda said. “And as I say that, I hope you’re going to tell me there aren’t really any bears here.”

  The way her eyes had gone from grinning to questioning and slightly worried brought him out of the dark place he’d gone. “Ursus arctos—brown bears—definitely live here. And I’m thankful for that, as there are very few left, and they’re an important part of our great wilderness.”

  “I’m all for brown bears being part of your wilderness, but not if they show up when I’m hiking.”

  “I can’t disagree with that. Let’s gather up our stuff and go. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. You?”

  “Definitely yes. And by the way, you were amazing. When I saw how fast you rappelled down that embankment, and how calmly you got the boy and brought him back up, I couldn’t believe it. You really are an expert at rescuing people, aren’t you? They were so lucky to have you close by.”

  “To have ER doc extraordinaire Miranda Davenport here, too. Diagnosing his injury and fixing it also made them very lucky.”

  “Anyone at any hospital could have fixed his arm, including you. Not too many could have rescued him the way you did.”

  The blue eyes looking up at him were utterly serious now, and something about the way she was looking at him gave him an odd sensation. A little uncomfortable at accolades he didn’t need to hear—he did what he did because it was his calling. A little bit proud, too, despite not needing that kind of praise. And a little confused at the first thing that came to mind when she’d said all that was that they worked remarkably well together. Both when it came to taking care of patients and when it came to enjoying time together in a way he couldn’t quite remember enjoying so much with anyone before.

  “We make a good team.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was, hanging between them. Words that felt bigger and more significant than a simple statement about working together.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  Mateo stared down to see the same confusion in her eyes that swirled through
his mind and body. Let his gaze travel to her lush lips, down to the pulse he could see beating in her throat just above her coat collar, and couldn’t believe he felt so aroused when he wasn’t even touching her and both of them wore heavy clothes covering nearly every inch of their skin.

  After each kiss they’d shared, he’d promised himself it would be the last. And yet, at this moment, he wanted to do nothing more than lie down on the hard rock slab they’d picnicked on and kiss her breathless.

  Damn. How had this gotten so complicated and confusing? He’d dreaded coming back home, but being with Miranda had made it so much better than he’d imagined it would be. Seeing his home through her eyes, as well as parts of Catalonia he hadn’t visited for years, made him feel completely different than he’d expected. Filled him with pleasure and happy memories, and not just the painful ones he’d known he’d have to deal with. It had brought a smile and joy to his heart to spend time with a woman who enjoyed simple pleasures like hiking and picnicking. Kissing and holding each other close.

  Much as he knew he shouldn’t be doing that kissing and holding, there was something irresistible about Miranda. Maybe it was the combination of sweetness and smarts, of vulnerability and bravery, of caring and giving that was a soul-deep part of her.

  Whatever it was, he knew he didn’t want the day with her to end with their hike. The enjoyment to be over before they had to deal with going to the party, where he’d have to answer questions he didn’t want to answer. Where there’d be hushed conversations about Emilio being gone, and about Mateo not being the kind of man his brother had been. About what would happen now.

  He didn’t want to think about all that quite yet, and looked down into Miranda’s beautiful face. “It’s early still. How do you feel about a little tour of part of the estate as I talk to a few managers before we have to get ready for the party? There’s probably more to do than I realize, and I should get started scheduling meetings with them now, and not wait.”

  “I’d love that. It’s all so beautiful to see from the guest house. Looking at it up close, learning about all you raise and grow there, about the horses and all the different livestock, would be really interesting.”

  “Bueno. We’ll take an hour or so to do a quick tour while I set up times to meet with everyone before we have to get ready for tonight.”

  “Well, this makes me happy.” He could tell from her shining eyes and wide smile that she really meant it, and somehow her excitement had him looking forward to it, too. “I admit I wanted to see more of the place, but didn’t know if I’d just be in the way.”

  “You could never be in the way. Having you with me will make a difficult task easier.” In the way? That she’d actually say that bothered him. How could such a special woman still carry around those kinds of worries that must stem from her early years at the Davenports?

  He reached for her hand and drew her closer. “You’ll have to keep your boots on, as trudging through fields will be part of it. And climbing olive trees. And walking across barn beams.”

  Her chuckle and laughing eyes reached inside him, making him feel grateful all over again that she was here. Knew that having her with him for at least a little of this necessary task would help him get through it. He was sure the various estate managers could handle taking over all the things Emilio wasn’t here to do anymore. In fact, they’d probably all prefer to do it themselves, instead of working with him if he tried to fill his brother’s shoes.

  No way could he come close to doing all the things his brother had accomplished here. And he was sure they all knew he couldn’t either, despite what his parents claimed to believe.

  * * *

  “Look at all the olives on these trees! How many acres...er...hectares of olive groves do you have?” Miranda asked as they walked between the rows of trees, now more gnarled-looking than Mateo remembered, on their way to the horse barns.

  “Not sure exactly what we have anymore.” He’d talked earlier to several of the livestock managers, but hadn’t yet spoken to those who took care of the various crops. “But in the past, not a huge number. The olives we grow here have mostly been eaten by everyone living on the estate, with about two thirds of the crop pressed into oil.”

  “How do you press it?”

  “There’s a local press that all the nearby orchards use. The harvest is taken to be processed pretty much the same way it’s been done for hundreds of years.”

  “When is it harvested? And how? There’s no way you could pick all these tiny olives off the trees—it would take forever.”

  He chuckled at the way she stared at the trees, reaching to touch the silvery gray leaves and not yet ripe olives before running her hand over the rough bark. “You’re such a city girl, with an inquisitive mind. The harvest will be soon. Probably in the next month or two, depending on the weather. They’re raked off the tree onto nets.”

  “What? You rake them off?”

  “Yes, and I know from personal experience how hard it is. By the end of the day your shoulders and back muscles are groaning big time.” He smiled at the memories of Emilio and himself complaining like mad, even though they both secretly liked the labor of pulling the olives from the trees. “Our parents insisted that Emilio and I do some of the raking, even though most of our friends on neighboring estates never had to. They felt we needed that personal connection with the land, and our home. Be a real part of it all.”

  Miranda turned to look at him, and he could practically read her mind, because his words struck him exactly the same way.

  A personal connection. A real part of it all. Walking across the land of his ancestors, he couldn’t deny that, for the past couple days, he’d been filled with powerful memories of his childhood. Happy memories of how much this place had always meant to him, until he’d realized he had to forge his own path away from here. Even the memories of Emilio and himself doing things together brought a smile to his lips, along with the ache of loss.

  “And your personal connection to the horses? You told me you and your brother spent a lot of time here.”

  They’d arrived at the paddock, with a few of their horses inside. One whinnied at them, and as he reached to rub the animal’s nose, Mateo’s chest filled with some kind of emotion he couldn’t quite identify. It had been a long time since he’d ridden a horse, and he suddenly knew he wanted to make that happen before he went back to New York.

  “We did. Again, my parents made us do some of the mucking out and feeding. Said we couldn’t have just the fun of riding, we had to do some of the work, too.”

  Miranda moved close to him, pressing her shoulder to his arm. “You love this place, don’t you? Admit it.”

  He could feel her looking at him, and finally turned to meet her serious gaze. How she could see that so clearly, when he hadn’t, had refused to, was a mystery.

  But she was right.

  “I guess I do. I grew up here. It’s in my blood, I suppose. But loving the land and the animals and the beauty doesn’t mean I belong here any more. My job in New York helps me make a difference in other people’s lives.”

  “Have you thought about how this place makes a difference in people’s lives?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All the people who work here. Who live here. You said they were like family, didn’t you? Without this place, their lives would change completely. They’d all have to find work on other horse farms, other olive farms, other places that raise the livestock you do.”

  He stared out across the fields. Miranda was right, and yet it didn’t really change anything. “Emilio worked to make sure this whole place ran like a well-oiled machine. Nothing will change with him gone.”

  Except everything had changed. This place would never be the same without him, and the thought of living here in his brother’s big shadow, facing grief and guilt every day, felt unb
earable.

  “Mateo.” She grasped his hands, and just that touch made him feel a little steadier. “Perhaps you need to take a little more time to think about everything. That’s what our pretend engagement’s really all about anyway, right? To give your parents time to adjust to their new situation without demanding you do exactly what they want. To give yourself time to figure out how you want to handle it.”

  “I don’t need more time to know that I can’t take Emilio’s place. And, deep inside, I have to believe my parents know that, too.”

  “Being yourself will always be enough. Remember that.”

  Her words squeezed his heart, and he folded her in his arms. “You seem to have trouble believing that about yourself, Miranda.”

  “Yeah, maybe I do,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his back and held him close. “Maybe that’s something we can both work on, hmm?”

  “Yeah.” He pressed his lips to her warm cheek, calling upon all his strength not to move on to her sweet lips. “And tonight’s party will be a good place for us to start.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I HOPE THE dresses fit, Miss Miranda,” Paula said, showing her to a guest room in the main house for her to change in. “Mr. Mateo wanted you to have several to choose from. He asked me to tell you to wear whichever you like best.”

  “I admit the dress I brought isn’t quite this fancy, but it’s adequate, I think.”

  “Mr. Mateo wanted you to feel comfortable at the party, not worrying about your clothes. He made a special effort to get them for you. Miss Camilla never liked the dresses her husband chose for her, and I know it made him sad.”

  She looked at the woman in surprise, wondering why she’d mentioned Emilio’s widow. “It bothered him?”

  A shadow crossed Paula’s face. “Yes. But he tried very hard to make Miss Camilla happy.”