“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Please,” Lucas said, smiling thinly. “I’m hardly anyone’s majesty.”
He withdrew his hand, fought back the desire to wipe it on his jeans. He had gotten this far; he’d see the meeting through but to hell with being polite.
Nobody had been polite to him.
The best he could offer, in honor of his grandfather’s name, was to be direct.
“Mr. McDonough—”
“Please. Before we start, let me apologize Your—Your Highness. Is that correct? Is it the way to address you, I mean?”
“Just call me Reyes.”
“I’m sorry for the delay, Mr. Reyes.”
“Yes. So am I. We were supposed to meet hours ago.”
“I know. It’s just…May I get you something to drink, Prince?”
“The name is Reyes.”
“Sorry. Of course. I’m not accustomed to meeting with—Well, then. What will it be? Something to eat, perhaps?”
Lucas had lost his appetite.
“Nothing, thank you. Let’s just get down to business, Mr. McDonough. That’s why I’m here.”
McDonough’s face grew shinier. “I can see that you’re annoyed, Your Lordship.”
Lucas thought of correcting him again but changed his mind. He had little patience for phonies and fools and from what he’d observed thus far, McDonough was both. The man could genuflect, for all he gave a damn.
“I apologize, sir. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
“So am I.”
“I assure you, it was unavoidable. I am no happier about it than you are.”
McDonough wasn’t kneeling but he sure as hell was shaking in his shoes. Lucas gave an inward sigh, counted silently to ten and then forced what he hoped was a convincing smile.
“Things happen,” he said. “As a businessman, as a rancher, I understand that. So…” He cleared his throat. “So, let’s begin again, yes? I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. McDonough. My grandfather sends warm greetings.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. But—but I must tell you, I am not Aloysius McDonough.”
Lucas’s attempted smile failed. “Then who are you?”
“My name is Thaddeus Norton. I’m an attorney.”
So much for new beginnings.
“Mr. Norton,” Lucas said brusquely, “this is a waste of time. I came here to meet with Aloysius McDonough. Where is he?”
“I’ll explain everything, sir, if you’ll just be patient.”
“I’m tired of being patient. Where is McDonough? And where is the mare?”
The attorney’s face was a study in confusion. “What mare, Your Excellency?”
“The nonexistent paragon of horseflesh I came to buy.”
“But—but there is no mare, sir.”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Lucas replied. Dios, now he was playing straight man in a bad comedy act. “Let me clarify things, Norton. My grandfather said he had contracted to purchase a mare. You and I both know there is no mare, so either he made a mistake or your client misrepresented the situation.” Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “I must tell you, my grandfather is not in the habit of making mistakes.”
Norton swallowed audibly. “I don’t know how to explain it, sir, but you’re right, there is no mare.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed again. “But there is all the rest. The land. The buildings. I know things are in some disrepair but—”
And, with those words, it began to fall into place.
Felix had been duped.
McDonough didn’t hope to sell a mare that would infuse the Reyes bloodlines with new intelligence, beauty and heart, he hoped to get rid of a failing property by unloading it on an old friend.
Lucas struggled to keep calm when what he wanted to do was cross the room, grab the lawyer by the collar and shake him.
“You and McDonough insult me and my grandfather,” he said through his teeth. “Did you actually think I would come here to see a mare and, instead, agree to buy this—this run-down corner of purgatory?”
“Please, Your Lordship. I beg you to compose yourself.”
“I am composed,” Lucas roared. “I am perfectly composed! Now get Aloysius McDonough in here so I can tell him what I think of him to his face!”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Lucas knotted his hands into fists. It was either that or plow them into the soft gut of the man in front of him.
“So is continuing this discussion,” he snarled, and strode toward the door.
“Prince Lucas! You don’t understand. Aloysius McDonough is dead.”
Lucas turned and stared at Thaddeus Norton. “He can’t be dead. My grandfather spoke to him last week, when they agreed to this appointment.”
“You must have that wrong. Aloysius passed away almost six months ago.”
“I have it right, Norton. I was with my grandfather when he made the phone call.”
Lucas had an excellent grasp of the English language. Still, some idioms had always eluded him. One was the phrase, “sweating bullets.” He’d never understood it until now as big drops of sweat popped out on Norton’s brow.
“I, ah, I don’t suppose you know the exact date of that call, sir?”
It was an easy question to answer. Lucas met with Felix on Mondays. It was a courtesy to keep his grandfather up-to-date about the Reyes Corporation and its holdings.
“Last Monday, in late afternoon. It would have been morning here.”
The attorney swallowed hard. “That call would have been between your grandfather and me, sir.”
“You spoke with Felix?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting my grandfather sent me here, knowing McDonough was dead? That he lied to me?”
“No,” Norton said quickly. “I’m sure he didn’t. I—I suspect he—he just left out a couple of facts.”
“A polite way of saying yes, you are suggesting my grandfather lied,” Lucas said in a soft voice many had learned to fear.
“Sir. Please understand, I am only representing my client. As for my conversation with your grandfather…” Norton swallowed. “He said it was time to implement the plan he and my client agreed upon a year ago.”
“What plan?”
Norton twisted his hands together. “I just assumed—I assumed your grandfather and you discussed it. That you knew—”
“Damn it, get to it! What plan?”
“Well—well, a year ago, Aloysius and your grandfather talked. About El Rancho Grande. And—”
“And,” Lucas growled, “your client saw a chance to presume upon an old friendship.”
“No, sir! That isn’t what happened.”
A muscle jumped in Lucas’s jaw. The details didn’t matter. McDonough had been desperate for money and he’d come up with a scheme designed to scam an old friend. Dead or not, the man was a lying, deceitful son of a bitch.
Still, why had Felix lied about the mare? About McDonough? If his grandfather knew there was no horse, knew that McDonough was dead…
Lucas would have trusted Felix with his life. To learn that trust might be misplaced…
Was Felix—was he becoming senile?
It was a terrible thought but a plausible explanation. Either Felix had lied to him or his mind was slipping. Neither prospect was good.
Lucas drew a heavy breath.
“Mr. Norton. There has been—there has been some confusion here. I can see that this has nothing to do with you.”
Norton nodded in relief. “Thank you, sir.”
“Obviously this matter is—it is ended.” Lucas’s voice grew brisk. “I assume you came here by car. I would be grateful if you would drive me to town. I have no vehicle. It’s a long story and not very interesting, but—”
“Nothing is ended, Your Highness,” Norton said quickly.
Lucas stiffened. “I assure you,” he said coldly, “it is.”
>
“The agreement between your grandfather and my client—”
“Damn it, man, I’m not stupid. Your client did what he could to drag my grandfather—to drag the Reyes Ranch—into his financial mess. I promise you, that’s not going to happen.”
Norton’s Adam’s apple danced again. “It’s already happened, sir. Your grandfather bought El Rancho Grande a year ago. It was to change ownership upon my client’s death.”
Lucas was stunned. Reyes Corporation—damn it, he owned this disaster area?
“Last week, your grandfather phoned to say he was ready to execute the terms of the sale. That he was sending you to, uh, to implement the final contract stipulation.”
“Let me see the contract.”
The attorney took a large white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face.
“Perhaps we should discuss the stipulation first, sir, and then…”
“Damn it, Thaddeus! Stop weaseling and get to it!”
The voice, female and curt, sliced through the room. Lucas turned and stared at the woman in the doorway.
She was tall. Slender. Her midnight-black hair was drawn back in a severe knot; pearls glittered demurely at her ears and throat. In a white silk blouse, black trousers, butterscotch leather blazer and polished black riding boots, she looked like she’d just stepped out of an expensive Manhattan town house, not a stable.
And yet, that was the last place he had seen her.
His eyes narrowed. “You clean up well for a woman who earns her living mucking stalls.”
The look she gave him lowered the room’s temperature.
“You should have taken my advice and left El Rancho Grande, Mr. Reyes.”
“And not enjoy whatever interesting little performance is about to take place?” Lucas smiled thinly. “Not on a bet.”
She dug in her pocket, held out the same key she’d offered him before.
“It’s not too late.”
“Trust me, it is.” Another thin, unpleasant smile curved his mouth. “Things are just getting interesting.”
“Interesting,” she said, and gave a brittle laugh.
It reminded him of how she’d laughed when she’d almost ridden him down.
“Laughter,” he said carefully, “seems an inappropriate response.”
“Believe me, mister, any other response is out of the question.”
“Try an apology instead.” He took a step toward her. “You still owe me one.”
That made her laugh again. It made his blood pressure soar. He was in a game but he didn’t know the rules, didn’t know his opponent, didn’t know the prize he was playing for.
The only certainty was that the woman was knee-deep in whatever was going on.
“You have one minute to explain,” he said, moving slowly toward her. “You or Norton. I don’t give a damn who tells me what this is all about. One minute. Then I’m leaving.”
“Has anyone ever told you what a pompous ass you are?”
Dios, he could feel the rage building inside him. “I warn you, amada, watch how you speak to me.”
“The days of royalty are over, Mr. Reyes. Playing emperor won’t get you anywhere. Not here. This is my country, my land, my—”
It was as if she’d pushed some hidden switch. Nothing mattered but dealing with her interminable insolence and Lucas knew exactly how to do it.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
HOURS ago, she’d struggled against him, then given herself up to his kiss.
Not this time.
She didn’t just struggle, she fought like a wildcat. Tried to bite him. Knee him. Shove him away.
Lucas wouldn’t let any of that happen.
He used his anger, his height, his leanly muscled strength to propel her back against the wall. Then he used his hands to manacle hers and pin them uselessly beside her.
Dimly he heard the attorney saying his name but he ignored that, ignored everything but the need to get even. To win. To let her know, without question, she could not laugh at him or look at him as if he were a creature worthy of her contempt.
Even in the fever that gripped him, Lucas had to admit that there was more.
There was the taste of her. Wild. Honeyed. Passionate.
The heat that rose from her silken skin.
The texture of her mouth as he invaded it.
As she fought, as he forced her to accept his kiss, the part of his brain that still clung to civility asked him what the hell he was doing.
He had never forced sexual compliance from a woman in his life.
But he wanted that from her.
No. Not compliance. Hell, never compliance.
He wanted to hear her sigh with desire. To melt under the stroke of his hands. To return his kisses and ask for more.
His mouth softened on hers. His hands lessened their grip on her wrists. He whispered to her in Spanish, words a man might use to tell his lover he would show her fulfillment beyond any she’d ever imagined…
The woman caught her breath. And became warm and pliant in his arms.
He felt the change. The delicate swell of her breasts against his chest. The almost imperceptible tilt of her hips to his. She was surrendering. Admitting that he was in command, not she.
He could let her go now…
Unless he kissed her until she begged him never to stop. Until what had started hours ago ended with his hands under her skirt, her panties torn aside so he could enter her. Thrust deep between her eagerly parted thighs as she urged him to take her, to possess her, again and again and again…
She cried out. Wrenched her hands free or perhaps he let go. Either way, Lucas stumbled back. She swayed; her eyes flew open, dark and hot with hatred.
Or with something that made him want to reach for her again.
He shuddered.
Was he insane? Was she? All he knew was that the sooner he left this place, the better.
The woman was trembling. The attorney was goggle-eyed. Lucas forced himself to speak as calmly as if nothing had happened.
“Now,” he said, “perhaps we can get to the truth.”
“The truth,” she said, “is that you’re a son of a—”
“Alyssa!” The attorney came to life and stepped quickly between them. “I suggest you not say anything you’ll regret.”
“Excellent advice, amada.”
“I have some advice for you, Mr. Reyes,” she said in a low voice. “Get the hell out of my house!”
“Your house? Have I misunderstood something?” Lucas looked at Norton and smiled slyly. “Did your client leave the opulent El Rancho Grande to—what is it you call the lady? Alyssa?” He folded his arms. “Alyssa the what? The maid? The cook? The stable girl? My understanding—and perhaps I have it wrong—was that I own this place now.” His voice hardened. “All of it, from the dried-out pastures to the collapsing barn. Is that not so, Norton?”
The lawyer looked as if he’d have given anything to disappear as he ran a shaking finger around the inside of his collar.
“That is correct, sir. Though I’m afraid—I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“More complicated?” Lucas snorted. “My grandfather was tricked into buying a useless ranch, I was tricked into coming here and you tell me there is still more? Are you about to tell me I must rescue a captive princess from the dragon-guarded tower in which she is chained?”
Norton made a sound as if he were gagging. The woman—Alyssa—gave a bitter laugh.
“Do not laugh at me again.” Lucas rounded on her, his face white with fury. “Or, I promise, you will regret it.”
“What I regret,” she snapped, “is that I didn’t let Bebé run you into the ground!”
“Such charm,” Lucas said slyly. “I trust you showed a warmer side to your lover.”
“To her…?” The attorney blanched. “Sir. Let me explain who Alyssa—who this lady is.”
“I’ve alrea
dy figured that out. The only explanation I want now is what in hell you mean by this thing you call a ‘stipulation.’ Do I own this ranch or not?”
“Well—”
“Of course he owns it,” the woman said in mocking tones. “He is the Reyes Corporation, Thaddeus. He told me that himself.”
Lucas looked at her and saw what the problem was. Felix had bought this useless place. Now McDonough was dead, and his mistress, his lover, call her what you liked, was furious. She’d expected to inherit the property.
Greedy bitch.
A moment ago, he’d happily have solved his problem by donating El Rancho Grande to charity. Now, he knew he would fight this taunting female to the end to keep it—and then give it to charity.
“And you want it for yourself,” he told her softly. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the so-called ‘stipulation.’”
“The ranch belongs to me,” she said, drawing herself up. “By all that’s right, that’s legal, that’s—that’s human and decent, it’s mine!”
“Of course it is, amada.” Lucas’s voice was silken. “Just think of all you did to earn it.”
Her face colored. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I promise you, I do. I know the sacrifices you made, sleeping with an old man, doing his bidding in bed—”
“You—you disgusting son of a bitch! I’m going to take this damnable contract stipulation to court and I’ll win.”
“Do you have a million dollars? Because that is what it will cost you just to see me and my attorneys in a courtroom.”
The woman glared at him. “You’re more than pompous, Mr. Reyes. You’re also a fool!”
Lucas took a step forward. The attorney moved quickly between him and the woman.
“Alyssa. Prince Lucas. My client is deceased but I’m honor-bound to continue representing him.”
Norton’s sudden show of backbone was a surprise but he had a point. There was a legal matter to be settled here, and Lucas wouldn’t permit his anger at the rider to get in the way.
“Fine,” he said coldly. “Then, let’s get to the bottom line—or did we just reach it? Did you bring me all this distance to alert me to the fact that this woman is going to try to convince the courts the sale of the ranch was improper? That she should have inherited it? Because if that’s the case, I must tell you, I suspect she has no legal grounds.”
The Spanish Prince s Virgin Bride Page 4