The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal

by Robin Gianna

  His hands tightened on her arms, bringing her close. The slight tic showed in his jaw again, and his eyes slid to her mouth, but he didn’t move to kiss her.

  She pressed her palms against his hard chest. Feeling the heavy beat of his heart, she suddenly decided to go for it. To use her new-found confidence. To find out exactly what he might be feeling—hadn’t doing crazy things been part of her reason to come here?

  “So what are you feeling right now?” she asked. Before he had a chance to answer, she shocked herself, finding she couldn’t wait to hear his response, sliding her hands up around his neck to kiss him. For a split second his mouth stayed soft until, with a soft groan, he kissed her back. Taking it deeper, hotter, sliding one hand up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair.

  Her body melted against his, the kiss spreading fire across her skin and weakening her knees. When his lips separated an inch from hers, she looked up into hungry eyes gone black, both of them breathless.

  “What I’m feeling is obvious, isn’t it?” he said in a low rumble. “I think you know that I want you, Miranda. That I’m attracted to you in a way I don’t remember feeling before. But I can’t offer you what you want and need in your life. And it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of you after I’ve brought you nearly captive into this ruse.”

  “I’m not captive. And I’m not asking for anything other than for you to kiss me. Unless even that’s more than you’re willing to offer.”

  A slow smile curved his lips, even as he looked at her like getting her naked was suddenly all he wanted. “As you’ve already noticed, kissing you any time, any place, has always been high on my list of offerings, mi belleza.”

  His lips caressed her jaw, moved to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. Slowly traveling down her neck, his hot mouth kept going until they rested on the mounds exposed there, his tongue leisurely licking along her neckline making her gasp.

  “Your breasts tantalize me, Miranda.” His breath whispered across the dampness of her skin. “So beautiful, so soft.”

  She clutched the back of his head, loving the way he nuzzled the cleft between her breasts, nearly hyperventilating with the sensation of it as his hands moved to her hips and over her buttocks.

  “Mateo! Mateo, where are you?”

  The distant voice permeated the sexual fog clogging her brain. Miranda opened her eyes as he lifted his head, his eyes glittering into hers. “Shh.” He pressed his lips to hers. “My mother. Probably someone important in her world has arrived and she wants me to talk to them. If we’re lucky, she won’t look out here.”

  “She’ll think even less of me if I’m keeping you away from her guests.”

  “And you care because?”

  Just as they were smiling at one another, his mother’s voice calling him got louder, frantic sounding, and Mateo straightened to his full height, a frown dipping between his brows as his arms fell to his sides. “I’d better go and see what’s wrong. I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  In her heels, Miranda couldn’t keep up with him as he strode through the ballroom, all the guests moving to make way for him. Across the room, she could see his mother leaning over a large, wingback chair and in it sat Mateo’s father, slumped to one side, looking extremely ill.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “MOVE BACK, PLEASE. Mother, give us some room.” Fear tightened Mateo’s chest, but he ignored it as best he could, relying on his medical training to address the problem, without letting emotion cloud his perspective. This wouldn’t be the first time his father’s Parkinson’s disease had left the poor man feeling weak and out of it, but it was always alarming, no matter how much they’d all become somewhat used to it.

  Mateo crouched next to his father’s chair, concentrating on getting his pulse. Trying hard to ignore the way his head was lolled back and the gibberish and strange sentences he was stringing together in a slurred voice that constricted Mateo’s gut even more.

  “When did he start to feel this way?”

  “I’m not sure.” His mother stood to the side, clutching her hands together. “I was talking with guests, and haven’t been with him for a while. But he was having a bad day to begin with. Felt extra-shaky this morning and couldn’t sit very straight. He was feeling anxious about that, with our guests coming tonight.”

  “What’s his pulse?”

  Miranda asked the question in a quiet voice as she crouched beside him. He glanced up to see that piercing blue carefully studying his father. “Bradycardia—about fifty. Some arrhythmia.”

  Sweat prickled his body as he turned back to his father, feeling uneasy about the way he was staring at him, barely blinking. “I think we should get him to bed and give him a dose of his medications. Usually when he’s having a bad day, that helps.”

  “The horses!” Rafael suddenly exclaimed, shakily waving his hand. “There! Don’t let them in the house!”

  God, he hated that this terrible disease was slowly whittling away at the strong man his father had always been. No matter how many times he experienced it, his father suffering hallucinations because of his disease deeply disturbed Mateo, and his mother, too, and he sucked in a breath, forcing himself to respond in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “No horses here, Padre. They’re all safe in the stable. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest, okay?”

  “No! Not leaving.” His father was shouting now, looking a little wild-eyed and mulish. “We’re waiting for Emilio to get here.”

  Emilio. Mateo’s chest squeezed, wishing with all his heart that could be true. “Emilio’s not coming, Father, so you don’t need to wait. Let’s go so you can get a little rest now.” He pinned his gaze on his mother with a message he hoped she read loud and clear. “Get the staff to clear the room. You know he wouldn’t want this kind of audience.”

  She stared at him before jerkily nodding. Instantly, she instructed the staff to move the food to another room, and asked the guests to follow.

  “Didn’t you say he’s diabetic, too?” Miranda asked, a frown dipping deep between her brows. “We should check his blood sugar before you take him to his room. Where is his glucose meter?”

  Mateo glanced at her, surprised. “It’s not uncommon for his Parkinson’s symptoms to flare up sometimes. A decreased blink rate and hallucinations are all part of that.”

  “I understand. But shakiness, delirium, and belligerence are all symptoms of hypoglycemia, too, which you know.”

  Well, damn. Because his father’s Parkinson’s was such a big concern, both he and his mother had assumed he was just having a bad day. But could Miranda be right? “Paula, can you please get Father’s glucose monitor?”

  “You think this might be his diabetes?” His mother looked anxiously at Mateo, then her gaze slid to Miranda.

  “Not sure. Do you know what he’s eaten today?”

  “I don’t know. We were all busy with the party, and I didn’t pay attention like I usually do. Perhaps he didn’t...” She stopped talking and turned, obviously distraught, to one of the staff who’d been tending the buffet. “Please bring some food right away.”

  “Not yet,” Miranda said gently, reaching for her hand to try to calm her down. “If it’s hypoglycemia, he could easily choke, trying to eat.”

  His mother stared at Miranda, then nodded as she gripped her hand. “Then what...?”

  “We need some regular, granulated sugar, please,” Miranda said. “As soon as possible.”

  “Yes. Do as the doctor says. Right away.”

  The staff member rushed off, and Miranda wrapped her arm around Ana’s shoulders to give her a reassuring hug. The respect in her eyes as she looked at Miranda was beyond good to see. Much as Mateo hated seeing his father feeling so ill and unsteady, maybe the silver lining would be n
ew respect for his pretend bride-to-be.

  * * *

  Paula rushed in with the glucose monitor, and he quickly pricked his father’s finger to draw the drop of blood they needed, his father now practically bellowing in protest, yanking his hand back, making it harder to get the test strip in place. In moments, though, the test showed exactly what Miranda had obviously expected.

  An extremely low reading practically screamed from the monitor. Miranda’s gaze lifted from the test at the same time his did. Their eyes met, and he gave her a smile and a nodding salute.

  “Miranda was right. His blood sugar is very low, Mother.”

  “Oh, dear. This is terrible.” She wrung her hands, looking nearly ready to cry. “This is my fault for not attending to him.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Mateo reached for her tense hands again, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “We need to set up a system where others in the house are also paying attention to his meals from now on. It isn’t fair to you to feel you have to hover over him every time he’s supposed to eat, and be the only one checking his blood sugar.”

  “Thank God you were here to help. To find what was wrong.”

  His gut clenched at the tears that sprang into his mother’s eyes. That she was right made his chest ache. Made him wonder if he could let himself make the same mistake with his parents that he’d made with Emilio. In not being here for him when his brother had needed him most.

  He rubbed his hand across his forehead and looked away from his mother’s distress. What was he going to do about this complicated problem?

  He drew a deep breath before turning back to his mother, explaining what needed to happen now. At the same time, Miranda went to work. He knew it definitely wasn’t the way she’d normally take care of hypoglycemia in the hospital. But had he really said in the tunnel that she didn’t know anything about field medicine? Her simple but efficient treatment showed he’d been wrong about that as he watched her stick her finger straight into the sugar bowl she’d been given and wipe it directly onto his father’s tongue.

  She talked soothingly as she slathered on another teaspoon-sized dollop of sugar, his father no longer protesting but making little smacking sounds as he swallowed. His eyes began to focus and blink more when he stared up at Miranda and Mateo, obviously slowly becoming more alert, though at the same time he clearly was confused by what was going on.

  “Feeling a little better?” Miranda asked with a smile.

  “What...? I don’t... Why?”

  “It’s all right, Father.” Mateo reached for his father’s thin hand. “You can’t have eaten much today, and got into a little trouble because of that. But your blood sugar is coming up now. You’re going to be okay.”

  His father nodded, obviously feeling a little wiped out, which was hardly a surprise. Mateo stood, helping Miranda up to stand next to him. He kept his arm around her waist as he spoke to his mother, then ordered some food brought to his father. His mother insisted on sitting next to him, poking food into his mouth, and Mateo knew it was because she didn’t trust anyone else to do it, feeling guilty that he’d gotten into trouble to begin with.

  With everything settled, he finally could turn to look at Miranda’s beautiful smile, and he knew it wasn’t just gratitude that filled his chest with an overwhelming emotion. The chatter and dishes clanking around them faded as he looked into her warm blue eyes, felt how perfectly her body fit in his arm, and it seemed as though the world was turning on its axis. His breath backed up in his lungs as the truth smacked him square in the solar plexus. As he realized that what he was feeling for Miranda was something he’d never experienced before.

  He was teetering dangerously close to loving this amazing woman. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her, but wasn’t sure if he should let himself do that. Though he had a feeling there was no way he could resist, since he sure as hell hadn’t managed to keep his distance so far. Except she deserved so much more than a man like him, and he battled back the urge to tell her exactly how he was feeling.

  The quizzical expression on her face as she looked at him had him wondering what his face looked like, and he swallowed hard, still reeling from his revelation.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, having no idea if he was okay or not, then somehow managed to speak. “Thank you. You just might have saved my father’s life tonight.”

  Her face went pink. “You would have figured it out.”

  “Maybe not in time to prevent him from going into a coma. Having experienced my father’s Parkinson’s symptoms so many times, I was being tunnel-visioned, assuming that was what was happening.”

  “Easy to do when you’re as close to it as you are. I had the advantage of being an impartial observer.”

  “And an excellent doctor.”

  “Like you said before, we make a good team.”

  “Yeah, we really do.” The truth of that shocked him. When was the last time he’d felt that way? Once he’d left the army, he’d mostly isolated himself, except when he’d worked on patients with other EMTs. But the more time he spent with Miranda, the more he realized what a truly special woman she was, in so many ways. A woman he was falling way too hard for.

  He leaned down to give her a soft kiss, wishing they could go back to what they’d been doing before, which had involved having his lips and tongue kissing her and caressing her beautiful breasts. “I’m going to help my father to his room and keep an eye on him for a little while. I’ll find you later?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  She’d be there. His chest filled again with a mix of emotions at her words. He knew it was true. Knew that she’d be there for him because that was the kind of woman she was, and he’d never needed her more than at this moment. And yet it was also a reminder that he hadn’t done the same for his brother, which was a terrible regret he somehow had to learn to live with.

  “Gracias,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll see you as soon as I can. And, mi belleza? Please plan for us to take up right where we left off.”

  Each time she walked along the stone paths meandering through the back gardens of the Alves estate, Miranda found it a little more peaceful. The fingernail moon still hung within a thin mist of clouds, surrounded by the kind of twinkling stars she rarely got to see back in the city. The night sky of New York City was lit by millions of city lights, not nature and the universe, and this sight made her heart feel a calmness and serenity she hadn’t felt since...well, she couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this way.

  Mateo had told her the gardens had been there for hundreds of years, carefully tended and refurbished as necessary, full of gorgeous blooms of all kinds during the spring and summer months. She found herself wishing she could see it during other seasons, instead of dormant as it was in November. Found herself wishing she could spend more time with Mateo, too.

  Neither of those was going to happen. Yes, he’d said he wanted to take up where they’d left off an hour or so ago, and just the thought made her feel flushed and breathless. He might have kissed her because he’d wanted to, because he’d wanted her, as he’d so excitingly told her, and not because he was trying to convince everyone that their fake engagement was real. But kissing her now, wanting her tonight and for as long as they were here together was a far cry from wanting a relationship once they were back in the city.

  He’d stated very clearly that he wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship with any woman. And she wanted the loving husband her mother had never had, wanted to be blessed with children. A close-knit family that was all her own, that no one could ever take away from her. But did that rule out a simple but doubtless glorious fling with Mateo?

  A deep sigh left her lungs. Feeling confused and unsettled by the question, she looked up at the stars for guidance. “Star light, star bright, what do you think I should wish for tonight?�
� she asked aloud.

  “If you don’t already know, why are you here with my son?”

  Startled, Miranda’s hand flew to her chest as she swung toward the voice to see Ana walking toward her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were out here.”

  “I’m glad we have this time to talk privately. First, I wish to thank you for your help with my husband tonight.”

  Relaxing a little, Miranda smiled. “I became an ER doctor to help others, so I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

  Ana inclined her head, and as she moved closer, Miranda’s smile faded. The woman might have slightly thawed with her thanks, and her expression might not be cold any more, but it was weary rather than warm.

  “I appreciate it more than I can express. But, despite that, you must know that neither my husband nor I will ever give our blessing to a wedding between you and our son.”

  And there it was all over again. It shouldn’t feel like she’d been stabbed in the chest with a sharp instrument, since it wasn’t exactly news that the Alveses didn’t approve of her, but it felt like that anyway. “Why not?”

  “I have tried to help you and Mateo understand, but neither of you seem to be listening. With the death of our special Emilio...” Her voice hitched for a moment before she continued, “Mateo must take over his role as the heir to the dukedom. And you cannot fill the role of his wife.”

  “Why not?” Miranda repeated, somewhat stupidly. Why was she even asking, when their engagement wasn’t real anyway? Did she want all the reasons she didn’t fit in spelled out in capital letters to make her feel inadequate, like a lesser human being, just like she had thirteen years ago?

  “Because you are American, and have an important job there. We are so very afraid that if he marries you, he’ll never come back.” She reached to clutch Miranda’s hands. “We need him to marry a Spaniard, someone who will be content, happy to live here at the Castillo de Adelaide Fernanda. Surely seeing how ill my husband was tonight shows you how much Mateo is needed here, especially since...since Emilio left us. I can’t bear to lose both my sons.”