Santiago's Command

by Kim Lawrence

  Lucy sucked in a deep, wrathful breath and blurted, ‘You are one manipulative—’

  He moved so fast that it seemed that one moment he was standing several feet away, the next he was beside her with his finger poised a whisper away from her parted lips. She felt the pressure building inside and felt totally helpless to do anything about it.

  ‘Think very carefully before you continue, Lucy. I am not my brother and I am not in the habit of turning the other cheek.’

  ‘You mean you haven’t mastered meek—imagine my amazement,’ she drawled, slapping his hand away and taking a shaky step back.

  Her heart was beating so hard it felt it might explode from her chest; the simple act of drawing air into her lungs required conscious effort … The musky scent of his warm skin lingered tantalisingly in her quivering nostrils.

  He laughed. The sound was not unattractive; actually nothing was unattractive about him but his personality.

  ‘Whereas you have.’

  She gritted her teeth in response to the silky sarcasm of his retort and wrapped her arms around herself.

  His brow furrowed as he watched her shiver. ‘You’re cold.’

  He faked solicitude well, but Lucy recognised this new tactic for what it was—an attempt to soften her up. She knew that she was not the sort of woman who brought out the protective instincts in the opposite sex. She was not small or delicate and she did not consider this a bad thing. She had never envied the fragile little creatures that made men feel macho and strong.

  ‘Look on the bright side—I might get pneumonia and die. Problem solved.’

  A spasm of impatience tightened the hard contours of his jaw. ‘Do not be stupid.’ But she wasn’t, anything but; the evening had proved that he had underestimated Miss Lucy Fitzgerald.

  For ‘stupid’ Lucy translated ‘anyone who didn’t act as though his every word was engraved in stone’. She watched as he began to shrug off his jacket. The shirt he wore underneath was white with a subtle silver stripe and in the moonlight it was possible to see the lean shape of his body beneath it as he held out the jacket towards her.

  She lowered her gaze but not before her insides had dissolved.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

  His face was in darkness now, but bands of moonlight fell across his body. ‘You find old-fashioned courtesy amusing.’ His hand smoothed the contrasting silk lining of the jacket he had shrugged off.

  ‘In the light of the fact you’ve spent the entire evening being as rude as hell to me … yes, actually, I do!’

  Lucy planted her hands on her hips, her breasts under the red silk heaving as she glared up at him. ‘You know something—I feel sorry for you!’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ he drawled, sounding bored. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope you are not going to tell me why I am an object of pity in your eyes?’

  ‘Because people like you—’

  ‘People like me?’

  ‘Sorry, I forgot, there are no people like you—you’re special,’ she drawled, sketching speech marks in the air. Her mocking smile faded as she added in a voice that shook with contempt, ‘But actually you’re not. Living in a castle and having pots of money makes you lucky—not special.’

  ‘And you were born on the wrong side of the tracks forced to live off your wits? I don’t think so,’ he drawled.

  Lucy blinked, but recovered quickly. ‘I don’t live in a castle.’

  ‘And the Fitzgeralds are paupers, I suppose?’

  Her blue gaze grew frosty. ‘Leave my family out of this,’ she warned fiercely.

  This display of protectiveness struck him as ironic. ‘Like you did? Did it ever occur to you to consider how your actions would affect them? How do you think they feel when they see you use your body and beauty as a weapon?’

  Lucy laughed, finding the accusation particularly ironic when she was standing here struggling to control her breathing. If only!

  ‘What can I say? I’m a shallow and superficial person.’

  ‘You’re …’ He lunged without warning and grabbed her by the waist, the other hand went to the nape of her neck, his fingers pushing into her hair as he pulled her into him.

  Panic made her struggle but then his mouth was on hers and her resistance melted, she melted; the arm banded around her narrow waist took her weight as she went limp.

  He sank his teeth into the plump fullness of her lower lip, sighing as she moaned. The heat of his body penetrated the silk of her dress … nothing she was feeling was like anything she had experienced before.

  ‘I really want to taste you.’

  His smoky voice shivered through her body, awakening an answering need deep inside her. Using what strength she had to force her heavy lips open, she looked up at him with passion-glazed blue eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed huskily. ‘Please.’

  He kissed her deeply, his warm lips seductive, his probing tongue shockingly intimate, but it was the contrast of soul-piercing tenderness and ravenous hunger of the carnal assault on her senses that drew a series of soft moans from Lucy’s throat.

  Overwhelmed by the need his touch awoke, she wound her arms vine-like around his neck and kissed him back hard, meeting his tongue with her own.

  The shocking rock-hard imprint of his erection as it ground into her belly excited her incredibly, making her gasp and moan, giving herself over totally to the wild hunger in her blood as the passion generated between them burned hotter. His mouth demanded more and she struggled to give it.

  His hands moved down her body, moulding her against him, as Lucy’s hands slid over his shoulders feeling the hard ridges of muscle through his clothes feeling the racing of her pulse, feeling his heartbeat, the two sounds becoming one.

  The desperation of their soft moans and murmurs grew more frantic and uncontrolled until finally Santiago pulled back.

  It took a few seconds for sanity to return. When it did the shocking realisation of what she had just done hit Lucy. She stood staring at him as she shook her head in denial, unable to accept the need he had awoken inside, the confusing tangle of emotions that the kiss had shaken loose.

  He said nothing. The shadows across his face accented the strong planes and fascinating hollows. Just looking at him made her ache to touch him. ‘You think that proves anything?’ she challenged.

  ‘It proved that we’d be pretty sensational in bed.’

  She gave a scared little gasp and just ran.

  When Ramon returned she was waiting in the car. He was terribly apologetic about the wait and didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about her silence.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘RELAX,’ Ramon recommended as Lucy looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘You won’t see him.’

  That assurance was the only reason she was here—that and Ramon’s promise of a ride on a pure-bred Arab, which she had been unable to resist.

  Though she’d managed to do so until Ramon, correctly interpreting her reluctance, had promised his brother would not be there. ‘So there’s no need to be nervous.’

  Her pride stung, she had retorted hotly, ‘Your brother does not make me nervous. I simply find him …’ At a loss to explain even to herself the way the man made her feel, she finished lamely, ‘He won’t be there.’

  ‘No chance,’ Ramon had promised, coaxing, ‘Come on, the least I can do is give you the ride I promised. You’ve fulfilled your side of the bargain and, yes, don’t worry,’ he soothed, predicting her interruption, ‘I know you don’t want to carry on with our plan … You are sure about that?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘Pity, I was having fun. Oh, well.’ Ramon gave a philosophical shrug. ‘It’s not all bad—you really got to Santiago.’

  Not nearly as much as he got to me.

  ‘Did I?’ she said, getting hot as she thought of his hard, lean, ardent body pressing her … his warm breath … She sucked in a steadying breath and thought, Keep it together, Lucy. The man kissed you—big deal!
/>   ‘Well, he was as rude as hell to you.’

  ‘I assumed that was normal for him.’

  Ramon shook his head. ‘Big brother is always polite even when he’s mad as hell. He has this way of letting you know you’ve messed up without raising his voice.’

  ‘I feel so special.’

  ‘You still sure you don’t want to carry it on?’

  ‘I don’t. Sorry, Ramon, but I’m here to help Harriet and that doesn’t leave much time to make myself a sitting target for your delightful brother’s insults.’

  Actually she did have time, as Harriet had pointed out when she had heard Lucy knock back Ramon’s offer to go out.

  ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, Lucy, but even convicted prisoners are allowed time off for good behaviour and, besides, you’re giving me an inferiority complex. The place has never looked so immaculate.’

  Lucy had allowed herself to be persuaded … perhaps a little too easily?

  ‘Ah, well … but it’s all good. You made such an impression that no matter who I date is going to seem an improvement, so it’s win-win for me.’

  Lucy’s lips quivered. ‘I’m so glad to have been of help.’ The sarcasm passed over Ramon’s head. ‘You are sure your brother won’t be around?’ She wasn’t scared of bumping into him, it was simply a matter of common sense. She hated spiders so she wasn’t going to wander into a room where she might encounter one.

  ‘I told you Santiago rides before anyone is up. He’s already done half a day’s work before breakfast. The man’s a machine, not human—he might not even sleep at all.’

  Lucy did not share the admiration in Ramon’s voice. ‘Or maybe he can’t sleep because he has a guilty conscience?’

  The spiky comment drew a laugh from Ramon. ‘Most people think Santiago is one of the good guys.’

  Lucy snorted.

  ‘That’s Santiago’s horse, Santana,’ Ramon said as she walked to the stall containing the massive magnificent black stallion she remembered from her first meeting with Santiago … Was that really only four days ago?

  It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  The animal rolled his eyes, showing the whites as Ramon caught the hand she had extended to the animal and pulled her back. ‘Not a good idea. He’s a bit unpredictable.’ Like his master, Lucy thought, remembering that kiss again and shivering. Jaw clenched with the effort, she pushed the memory away.

  A few sleepless nights ago she had finally decided to cut herself some slack, realising that the only reason she had kissed him back like some sort of sex-starved bimbo was because she was—the sex-starved bit anyhow. She had been living the life of a nun and that was not normal or healthy.

  When you thought about it, their kiss had been inevitable. It had certainly not been some life-changing experience, just the result of bad timing and hormones.

  It had made her realise that what she needed was some balance in her life, and while she was not about to sign on with a dating agency or start attending speed-dating evenings—both suggestions from helpful family members—she was not going to actively avoid the possibility of a relationship. Rather, as her mum poetically phrased it, she was going to put herself out there.

  If Friday night had proved anything it had proved she did after all have a libido. Her full lips twisted into a bitter smile—it was just a pity that she didn’t have good taste!

  She shook her head and tuned back in time to hear Ramon say, ‘… and not very fond of anyone but his master. Now how about Sapphire?’ He drew Lucy towards a chestnut pure-bred Arab filly several stalls away from the black stallion. ‘She’s a lovely girl with very good manners.’ Ramon held out his hand to offer a treat to the horse.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Lucy agreed, patting the animal. She placed a hand to her stomach as another of the cramps that had started an hour or so earlier made her catch her breath. The pain passed and she forgot about it as her attention strayed to the animal in the stall. ‘Have you ever ridden Santana?’

  Ramon laughed and shook his head. ‘Santiago would have my skin if I tried. He doesn’t share. You really have a way with horses.’

  ‘My father bred racehorses as a hobby—we all ride. He put me on the back of my first horse when I was two and led me on a thoroughbred when I was six.’ She broke off as Ramon lifted a hand to his head. ‘Are you all right?’

  Ramon shook his head. ‘Fine, fine … I just need …’ He flashed her a tight half smile and said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Tomas here will look after you.’

  The groom Ramon hailed smiled and saddled up both horses, and when he realised that she knew what she was doing, left her alone.

  ‘Abandoned,’ she said, burying her face in the filly’s neck.

  She patted the gentle filly, who was tethered beside Ramon’s mount—a good-looking Arab—and, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt, glanced at her watch.

  ‘Great!’ She gave a hissing sound of frustration and stomped up the aisle between the stalls. What was Ramon doing?

  At this rate she would miss out on her ride altogether. She had left Harriet some sandwiches for lunch, but if her bored friend was left alone too long she knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist starting the round of chores without her and probably put back her recovery several weeks in the process.

  She was half tempted to take the pretty filly out alone and—The sound of hooves connecting with the wooden panel of a door interrupted her chain of thought.

  ‘Hello, boy,’ she said, walking to the stall where the stallion was pacing restlessly up and down. The animal pawed the ground and rolled his eyes. Lucy smiled and held out a hand fearlessly towards him, murmuring softly.

  With a whinny the animal came forward, bending his head towards her as he pawed the floor.

  ‘My, you’re a handsome boy,’ she soothed, finding it easy to identify with the animal’s restless impatience. ‘You need a run, don’t you? So do I,’ she added with a sigh. ‘Have you been neglected? I wish I could …’ She stopped, a slow smile spreading over her face as she thought, Why not?

  Despite any number of answers surfacing in response to her silent question, the reckless idea took hold until by the time she had saddled the animal she had rationalised her decision to the point where she was actually doing the horse’s true owner a favour—a beautiful creature like this needed exercise.

  She did not doubt her ability to handle him: she had grown up around horses, she was a better than good rider and she had a natural affinity for all animals.

  Her confidence seemed justified as she walked the animal around the exercise yard a couple of times before taking the path that Ramon had said led to a great gallop over open ground.

  ‘We are a school, not a prison. We do not chain our girls to their beds and I can assure you our security is more than adequate. However, if a girl wants to run away … well, it is hard to prevent her.’

  Santiago was not impressed by the logic and even less by what the school deemed an appropriate punishment for the crime. He clenched his jaw and struggled to moderate his response, aware his own school days had coloured his views of the educational world.

  At seven he had been sent away to a school where bullying was endemic and the teachers had turned a blind eye to the activities of a group of sadistic pupils.

  ‘Is not excluding someone who has tried to run away rather playing into her hands?’ It certainly seemed to Santiago that the only lesson his daughter had learnt was run away and they sent you home as a punishment, which was exactly where she’d been heading when they’d caught up with her at the bus station.

  A bus station where she had rubbed shoulders with … His hand bunched into fists as he brought this line of thought to a screaming halt.

  His blood ran cold when he thought of his eleven-year-old daughter wandering around alone in a city. Gabby might think of herself as very grown up, and in some ways she was, but in others his daughter was very young for her age, something he was glad of, but it made her vulnerable.


  ‘Gabby’s behaviour has been unacceptable—’

  ‘I find it unacceptable that you apparently have no idea why my daughter felt the need to run away.’

  ‘Teenage girls—’

  ‘My daughter is eleven.’

  ‘Of course and as you know I was not comfortable with her skipping a year … a bright girl, of course … but …’ Combating his growing irritation, Santiago tuned out the rest of a speech that when condensed read ‘not my fault’. His tone cold and clipped, he finally interrupted.

  ‘So Miss Murano will accompany her on the train.’

  ‘Yes, and you will arrange for her to be picked up at your end?’

  Santiago, who intended to pick his errant daughter up himself, grunted an affirmative and put the phone down.

  He was leaving his study when he almost collided with his head groom. The man was so incoherent that it took him several minutes to make sense of what he was saying. When he did he experienced a flash of blind fury.

  ‘So the English lady took out Santana and she headed which way?’

  Santiago hit the ground running, no longer keeping his anger in check but releasing it to keep the nightmare images floating in his head at bay … This was not happening again.

  It could not!

  His brother’s horse was fortuitously saddled and waiting in the yard. Santiago loosed the rein from the post it was looped over and, vaulting into the saddle, dug in his heels. The animal responded to the urgency and leapt responsively forward.

  As they galloped onto the trail Santiago planned the words that would annihilate her. He was visualising the humility he would see in her attitude before he eventually wrung her lovely neck when his own horse, his mouth flecked with white, his black mane flying, galloped past.

  An icy fist clenched in his chest and the images of retribution evaporated. He soothed his own spooked mount, sternly checking the animal’s desire to follow the stallion, and rode on. The scene that met his eyes when he emerged from the forested strip was his worst nightmare.