By the time Manuel put in an appearance Lisa was pacing the floor, mentally climbing walls, about to go in search of Diego herself because this waiting, this not knowing what her reception would be was killing her.
Twirling on her heels she faced him, nerves pattering. Soon now she would see her love—
‘Rosa tells me you have come back from England to meet with the señor.’ His swarthy features were sympathetic. ‘But he is not here. He left very early this morning before it was light.’
‘I see.’ The tension drained out of her, quickly replaced by a dull sense of frustration. Nothing to get in a panic about, though. She had half-expected it, mentally prepared herself for this eventuality, hadn’t she?
She’d missed him by a whisker.
‘Then perhaps you could give me addresses of where I might find him?’
He seemed to consider her request for a long moment, then grinned. ‘Perhaps I do better! Rosa is making coffee for you. She will bring it to small salon and I will make the phone calls. It is better to know for sure he is home—he might have gone anywhere in the world—his business affairs take him to many places.’
Sickening thought!
Impulsively, Lisa reached out to touch his arm as he began to leave her, her eyes unknowingly full of stark inky appeal, the hand that clutched his arm shaking just a little. ‘I’d love coffee. It’s been a long drive. But may I have it in the kitchen with Rosa?’ She didn’t want to be alone to agonise over the very real possibility that Diego was even now on his way to the other side of the world.
‘Certainly.’ His dark eyes were kind. ‘Come with me. You drink coffee and I use the telephone.’
The main kitchen was cavernous with a vaulted stone and timber ceiling and a huge open fireplace. Nevertheless the atmosphere was surprisingly homelike, with hams, strings of onions and dried herbs hanging from the massive beams, the aroma of coffee drifting like a blessing.
Manuel said something to his wife in rapid Spanish as she turned from the huge gleaming range, a cafetière in one hand.
‘Ciertamente!’ Rosa smiled in response to whatever her husband had said, setting the coffee on an immense wooden table near a bowl of yellow roses, plucked, Lisa guessed, from the many blooms that perfumed the courtyard. ‘All of us will drink! You will please to sit, señorita?’
Taking the chair indicated, Lisa sat and closed her tired eyes for a moment, the quiet, comforting atmosphere helping her to wind down just a little. Rosa fetched three bowl-shaped coffee mugs and a plate of sticky almond pastries and Manuel consulted a list pinned up by the wall-mounted phone and began at last to dial.
Drinking the welcome coffee and queasily refusing the pastries, Lisa wished she could understand Manuel’s side of the conversations that ensued as he dialled at least three separate numbers. Diego was obviously proving harder to track down than she had hoped.
A point punched home when he walked back to take his mug of coffee from the table, shrugging his shoulders fatalistically.
‘I called the señor’s office first. He has not been there. His sister hasn’t seen him since she left here with her husband and his housekeeper gave us the only clue we have.’ He spread his free hand as if to indicate the clue was sadly worthless. ‘The señor phoned to his home at mid-morning to say to cancel the dinner he had arranged to give his parents next week. Is all. He didn’t say where he was going, only that he had no idea when he would return.’
It was another perfect morning but Lisa couldn’t begin to appreciate it. Something inside her had died. Diego could be anywhere in the world. True, she’d asked Manuel to ask Diego to get in touch with her when he saw him next. But she wasn’t holding out much hope that he would bother to respond. He was getting on with his busy, successful life. He didn’t need her in it.
Yesterday, the afternoon had been drawing to a close, the shadows lengthening on the mountains, when she’d thanked Rosa and Manuel for their help, hardly able to hide her misery, and made to leave.
But Manuel had firmly argued against her driving back to Seville, pointing out that she had already had a long journey from England, that it would soon be dark, and Rosa could quickly make the bed up in the room she’d had before. It would be no trouble, he’d insisted.
So she’d stayed the night, giving in because she had no energy left to fight for her own way—her need to get away from this beautiful place where she had been, so very briefly, happy and hopeful. Staying overnight had been sensible, she supposed, but she wished she hadn’t slept late after the initial long restless hours.
Hurriedly, she stripped her bed and repacked the few overnight things she’d needed and carried the case down to the hired car.
She’d already said her goodbyes and thanks to Rosa and Manuel and while she’d been eating the very late breakfast the pretty housekeeper had insisted on making for her, Manuel had offered to try again to track Diego down for her.
He could telephone the señor’s parents; why hadn’t he thought of that before? There was a slim hope. The señor didn’t answer to them for what he was doing but they might know where he was. Though he doubted it. Hadn’t the señor’s housekeeper had to give them his message? Which meant he hadn’t spoken to them himself, didn’t it? Nevertheless, for the señorita’s sake, he would try.
But the phone was dead. A problem with the line; it often happened, the Spaniard said with a shrug of resignation. So even the final slim hope of making contact with him was gone. There was nothing to keep her here.
Starting the engine, she said her silent farewells. There would be no closure and she’d just have to live with that. Get on with her life, just as he was doing.
Diego forced himself to slow down as the road twisted sharply, the wheels spinning on the loose surface. He wasn’t suicidal; he was merely in a desperate hurry!
He vented a vehement string of oaths, his hard profile clenched. Everything was conspiring against him. He remembered what he’d told Lisa five years ago. He’d said his love had no ending and had meant it. Still did.
But finding her and proving it, demanding that she give him a chance to make her understand that she could find happiness as his wife—not Clayton’s—was turning out to be a problem of nightmare proportions.
It had been mid-afternoon yesterday when he’d arrived at her flat. No answer. A phone call to her father had given him the information that she was staying with the Claytons in Holland Park, just until Ben was out of danger. The older man had sounded defensive, almost as if he were reluctant to let him know where his daughter was or what she was doing.
The taxi that had taken him to the Holland Park address had been frustratingly slow through the heavy traffic. Sophie, his rival’s twin, had answered his summons, peering behind him. ‘Where’s Lise?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ Still sitting at Clayton’s bedside, mopping his brow, feeding him grapes and kissing him better? The thought made him furious.
‘She isn’t with you, then?’
‘Obviously not.’ He had a hard time of it, hanging on to the very last thread of his rapidly dwindling patience. ‘Why would she be?’
‘Because she flew out to Spain this morning to see you. She said you had unfinished business. Look, she didn’t put me in the picture, but she did say she didn’t know when she’d be back. Ben’s making good progress so I suppose she feels she doesn’t need to be here now.’ She widened the door aperture. ‘Won’t you come in?’
What the hell for? had been his initial, ill-mannered answer, happily unvoiced. He made himself smile. ‘No. No, thank you.’ And then, as if on an afterthought, ‘Is Lisa’s engagement to Ben still on?’
Sophie stared at him as if he’d been speaking double Dutch, then denied, ‘No, of course not. I would have thought you, of all people, would have known that.’
Which had left him with a lot to think about. Just as he had come to London to find her, she had flown out to Spain to see him. Their planes had probably passed in mid-air, going in
opposite directions! That surely had to mean she hadn’t written him off as the uncaring boor he must have appeared during the final hours they’d spent together.
And her engagement to Clayton was still off. So why had she told Isabella she was soon to be married to the man whose ring she wore?
He must have taken his leave of Sophie but he couldn’t remember having done so. He remembered walking further down the street, hailing a cab to take him back to the airport and using his mobile to phone Manuel to tell him to keep Lisa where she was until he got back.
The line was engaged. It was still engaged twenty minutes later. He tried again when he was dropped off at the airport and nearly exploded with frustrated fury.
The line was dead. The phone at the monastery was out. Finding him gone, no one knowing where he was, Lisa would have made tracks.
He had two options. Sit on the Claytons’ doorstep until she decided to return. Or get back to Spain, hoping she’d still be there, waiting for him. Even if she’d left, which seemed more than likely, she might have told his staff where she was heading—directly home, or not.
There was too much adrenalin pumping round his veins to allow for inaction. He booked the last remaining seat on the early flight out to Seville then took himself off to the arrivals hall to wait for the late night flight in, hoping she might have been on it.
She wasn’t.
And now he was wishing the last few miles away, undoubtedly looking like something the cat had dragged in, hoping against hope that she hadn’t already left the monastery.
His thoughts grimly occupied, he had to stamp on the brakes to avoid a head-on collision with a Seat being driven the other way. As it was they were bumper to bumper. Cristo! Some people weren’t fit to be behind the wheel; the driver had taken the tight bend at a maniac speed!
And there was no way he could pass; the road was too narrow. The other driver would have to back up, pronto. He was in a hurry!
His jawline set, shadowed with an overnight beard growth, he slid out of the car, took two stormy paces and his heart stopped.
Lisa!
His heart crashed on then melted as he watched her open the door at her side and slowly swing her long legs to the ground. She stood, lifting her face to him. She was pale, those beautiful eyes shadowed, her hair tumbling down in wayward tendrils. Her soft mouth quivered as their eyes meshed. He had never loved her more.
His driving aim to kiss that look of uncertainty from those haunted eyes, those trembling lips, had him landing one hand on the bonnet of his car and vaulting over the obstruction. Only one pace was necessary to bring him to his heart’s desire. One forceful pace and he was holding her in his arms, fiercely pressed against his heart, groaning thickly as he felt her delicate body shake.
Then she slithered even closer into him, winding her arms around his neck, lifting her lovely face to his. There were tears in her eyes. His heart jerked. There must be no sadness. Not for her, not ever again. He would not allow it!
‘Diego—’
‘Hush,’ he commanded thickly. ‘No words. Just this—’ He lowered his head to kiss her.
Lisa knew she was in heaven. Joy leapt through every vein and sinew and all the cells in her body were on fire as she kissed him back, her hunger matching his as she strainingly attempted to writhe closer even though that was not possible.
Their bodies were welded. She could feel the heated hardness of him through the barrier of their clothes. Lightning exploded inside her.
One of his hands was tangling in her hair. She could feel him shaking with the intensity of the passion that was claiming them both as reluctantly he dragged his mouth from hers and stated raggedly, ‘You will marry me. You will forget Clayton, forget you ever knew him. If he weren’t already lying injured on a hospital bed I would have beaten him to a pulp!’
He planted a kiss on her startled mouth, impressing his forceful decision. Lisa gurgled with laughter and kissed him back, only to find his dark head rearing away, a ferocious glitter in his dark eyes. ‘This is no laughing matter. You are mine and I am a possessive man. I mean what I say. I propose to you and you giggle!’ Violently insulted male pride bristled from every pore. ‘But this time,’ he uttered darkly, ‘you do not leave my sight until I have my wedding ring on your finger. And not even then.’
‘No problem. You won’t be able to get rid of me,’ Lisa assured him, a soft smile curling her mouth. ‘And leave poor Ben out of it. I was engaged to him for a few hours. I have no intention of marrying him. There is no need to be jealous, and your proposal leaves a lot to be desired,’ she added with teasing severity, safe now in the mind-blowing knowledge that the love of her life wasn’t lost at all; he’d just been mislaid for a while.
His lean hands tightening on her shoulders, one black brow rose as he questioned, ‘Then why did you flaunt his ring in front of me, tell Isabella that you would be marrying him soon?’
At least she had the grace to blush, Diego conceded, magnanimously deciding that he had already forgiven her for not knowing her own mind at that time. Hadn’t she come back to Spain to find him and although she hadn’t formally accepted his proposal—and how did it leave a lot to be desired?—she hadn’t been able to hide the way she felt about him when he’d kissed her.
Her colour receding as she recalled just how dreadful she’d felt that last morning, her glance was direct as she offered contritely, ‘It was stupid of me. But at the time it seemed the easiest way to shut her up. You were treating me as if I were a nasty smell and I was so miserable, so sure you wanted nothing more to do with me after the things I’d accused you of, I couldn’t face explaining that I was only wearing the ring for safe-keeping. Your sister would just have asked more questions—’
‘Isabella hasn’t known how to keep silent since the day she first learned to talk,’ he acknowledged. ‘Even so, you couldn’t wait to leave me when you knew he’d been injured and when I asked if you loved him you said you did. You can’t begin to imagine how that made me feel.’
‘Oh, I can!’ she whispered emotionally, lifting her hands to touch his lean and handsome face. ‘When I thought you’d turned your back on me my whole world fell apart, my darling. And I do love Ben. But like a brother. Not as I love you.’
He pulled in a breath. His stunning eyes glittered as he commanded, ‘Say that again. Say you love me!’
‘Why else do you think I’m here? I knew I couldn’t go through the rest of my life without telling you how deeply I love you.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘But you weren’t here. Where were you?’
Completely consoled, Diego trailed loving kisses down the length of her throat. ‘In London,’ he murmured thickly. ‘Looking for you. I, too, had to tell you that I loved you more than my life.’ His lips encountered the top button of her cotton blouse. Slightly unsteady hands lifted to slip it out of its moorings, then stilled. With a supreme effort he controlled the fierce need to make love to his beautiful darling right here and now.
‘We are blocking the road, my angel. We must go.’ The lightest of kisses on her unbearably sensitised lips. ‘Wait in my car. I will move the Seat.’
No sooner said than he was behind the wheel, reversing the little car in a cloud of dust. And within moments he was striding back to where she was frozen to the spot, immobilised by the utter magic of what was happening. Diego loved her! She was to be his wife! Welded to his side for the rest of their lives! How could anything in the world possibly be more wonderful?
All macho confidence, Diego opened the passenger door and gently eased her poleaxed body inside, strapping her in with cool efficiency before walking round to get behind the wheel, telling her, ‘It is parked in a pull-in. And there it may stay,’ with a calm disregard for the need to get it back to the hire firm at the airport. ‘You, my most precious love, are going nowhere. And this time I keep you here with love. My bad behaviour is a thing of the past.’ His hand on the ignition key, he turned to her, his eyes drenched with tenderness. ‘For five years you h
aunted me. When I saw how I could take what I believed was my right to vengeance, I took it. Can you forgive me?’
‘I can’t blame you for thinking bad things about me,’ Lisa confessed earnestly. ‘Five years ago I behaved like a spoiled brat. I’d seen you with this fabulous woman. Twice. Once going into a jeweller’s, and again in the hotel foyer. I thought you’d dumped me for her, that you hadn’t meant it when you said you were in love with me. I—’ her voice almost disintegrated ‘—I took my own childish form of revenge.’
‘Querida—’ His hands took hers, pressing kisses into her palms. ‘That is all forgotten. But I need to hear you say you forgive me for my truly vile treatment once I had you to myself. I wanted you like crazy and I knew you weren’t indifferent to me. So I decided to let you stew, wondering when you would have to fulfil your part of the hellish bargain. Increase the sexual tension until you begged me to make love to you. How can you love such a monster?’
‘How can I stop?’ she replied, sincerity spilling from her eyes. ‘Besides, you gave me the option of leaving when it came right down to it, remember? So you can’t be all bad!’
And with that assurance he gave her the slashing grin that had always had the power to turn her knees to water and started the engine.
It was growing dark, a soft amethyst light stealing over the mountains. Lisa, watching for the first faint stars from the terrace, wondered where Diego had got to.
She’d bathed and changed as he’d suggested, dressing with immense care in one of the beautiful dresses that she’d never expected to see again. A honey-coloured silk shift that made the most of her slender curves, her hair loose around her shoulders, her make-up as perfect as she could manage given that her fingers, all the cells in her body, were trembling with delicious anticipation.
‘Come.’ He was behind her, his hands lightly on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. She hadn’t heard him approach. Her heart leapt.
Spanish Vengeance Page 14