Housekeeper in the Headlines

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘I’m sure he has grown taller,’ Ginette had said fondly as she’d watched the toddler charge over to his toy box. ‘Did you and Carlos have a relaxing holiday?’

  Betsy had felt herself blush as she’d thought of the amount of mind-blowing sex they’d had. Their honeymoon had been the most exhilarating few weeks of her life. But it wasn’t only physically that her relationship with Carlos had developed. They had grown closer in so many other ways and had talked for hours.

  The time they had spent together in Mallorca had reminded her of when she had been his housekeeper in London and cooked dinner for them every evening. Carlos had needed to unwind after his heavy training sessions or playing matches when the tournament had begun. Often they had watched a film together, or read, and they’d both tried to ignore the sexual chemistry that had simmered between them until that last night, when it had exploded into passion.

  At Casita Viola, Betsy had cooked Carlos’s favourite meals and taken pleasure in his enjoyment of the food she’d prepared. When Ginette had brought Sebastian to Mallorca and then returned to Toledo, Betsy had loved the fact that they were a little family. She’d been happy, pottering about the cottage or taking Sebastian to the beach. And at night, when their son had been tucked up in his cot, Carlos had brought her body to quivering life with his caresses and she had acknowledged that she was halfway to being in love with him.

  Her heart gave a familiar flip as she walked across the hall towards him. Sun-bleached jeans hugged his lean hips, and a black tee shirt moulded his magnificent chest.

  ‘Is my surprise in your study?’ she asked.

  She was puzzled when he opened the door and ushered her into the room.

  ‘Oh!’

  She stopped dead and looked around in amazement. The study had been transformed into an art studio. An easel stood next to the window, and there was a long workbench and storage drawers beneath it, a table with her sketchbook and pencils, and at one end of the room a big leather sofa.

  ‘The sofa is for me, when I come and visit you in your studio,’ Carlos told her with a grin.

  ‘But you need your study. You often work from home.’

  ‘I’ve relocated to another room. Your friend Hector said that this was the best room for natural light coming through the window.’

  She stared at him. ‘You asked Hector?’

  ‘While we were in Mallorca I phoned the art supplies shop and spoke to him. He was very helpful, advising me on what equipment you would need. I thought you might like to invite Hector and his girlfriend to dinner one evening. You have met my friends—it’s about time I got to know yours,’ Carlos said.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done such a lovely thing for me. I’ve always wanted a proper studio.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. It’s important to me that we make a success of our marriage, querida.’

  ‘It is?’ Tremulous hope filled her.

  ‘Of course. Sebastian deserves to have parents who are united.’

  Betsy could not fault his reasoning. And her parents’ love had turned to hatred. So why did she yearn for Carlos to see her as more than the mother of his child? Her pleasure in the studio was dimmed slightly, knowing that he believed it was his duty to keep her happy. When she was a child her parents had competed for who could buy her the most expensive birthday and Christmas presents, but all she’d really wanted was for them to love her instead of using her to argue over.

  Carlos captured her chin and tilted her face up to his. ‘You look sad. Did I forget something for the studio?’

  ‘No, it’s perfect.’ She sternly told herself to stop wishing for the moon and smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I think we should try out the sofa.’ He drew her into his arms and nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. ‘I had a lock fitted on the door so that you won’t be disturbed when you are working.’

  ‘I’m not working now...’

  Her breath hitched in her throat when he slipped his hand beneath her tee shirt and cupped a breast, dragging his thumb across its tender peak.

  ‘That’s why I locked the door,’ he said thickly, and he dropped down on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap.

  Desire gleamed golden bright in his eyes and Betsy melted instantly, as she always did when her handsome husband made love to her. But she could not ignore the whispered warning in her head.

  If his passion for her faded in the future, would he still be committed to their marriage?

  But Carlos threaded his fingers through her hair with a tenderness that lit a spark of hope inside her, and when he claimed her mouth she pushed her doubts away and sank into his kiss.

  * * *

  The days slipped into weeks, and the fiercely hot temperature so characteristic of Toledo in midsummer dropped a few degrees to become pleasantly warm in early autumn.

  Betsy put down her brush and stepped back from the easel to study her latest animal portrait with a critical eye. The horse she was painting was owned by Carlos’s close friend Sergio and his wife Martina. The couple often came to dinner and Betsy had discovered that she and Martina, who owned a riding stables, shared a love of animals. Also, Martina’s sister Mia had a daughter the same age as Sebastian, and had invited Betsy to a mother and baby group.

  It helped that she was picking up more Spanish words, so that she was able to chat to the other mothers in the group, and Sebastian loved playing with other children.

  She and Carlos had also met Hector and his girlfriend for dinner and the two men had got on well. Now that she had a social life with new friends, and her pet portrait business was doing so well that she had a waiting list of clients, Betsy felt more settled.

  She moved closer to the window overlooking the garden and watched Carlos playing with their son. He had already introduced Sebastian to a child-sized tennis racket and spongy balls. At nearly eighteen months old, the toddler showed amazing hand-eye coordination.

  ‘Do you hope Sebastian will be a tennis champion?’ Betsy had asked Carlos once.

  ‘I’ll support him in whatever he chooses to do,’ Carlos had replied, with an odd note in his voice.

  She remembered he’d said that his father had not been proud of his sporting success, but her attempts to get Carlos to open up about his strained relationship with Roderigo had been politely but firmly rebuffed.

  Betsy gave a soft sigh. To other people her marriage must seem perfect. And it almost was. She and Carlos got on brilliantly, and they spent a lot of time together because he was often at home now. He’d cut down on his business trips, saying that he wanted to be with Sebastian as much as possible.

  She would always feel guilty that she’d stolen the first fifteen months of his son’s life from him, but Carlos had said that they had both made mistakes and it was time to put the past behind them and move on.

  As for the physical side of their marriage—it got better and better. There was no longer a bolster down the centre of the bed, and they made love most nights. The sofa in her art studio had proved to be very useful too... Heat stained Betsy’s face as she recalled how Carlos had bent her over the leather arm while he stood behind her and eased his erection between her thighs.

  He took her apart every time he made love to her, but he never lost control with complete abandon the way he’d done at the cottage. She longed to shatter his restraint, but he seemed determined not to allow it to happen, and sex had become something of a battle of wills which Betsy always lost.

  Yes, her life was very nearly perfect—especially now there was a new member of their family. She looked over at the fluffy bundle of mischief who was curled up in a dog basket.

  ‘He’s half miniature poodle and the other half is anyone’s guess,’ Carlos had said a few weeks ago when he’d carried the small, apricot-coloured dog into the house and placed him in Betsy’s arms. ‘T
he staff at the dog rescue centre think he’s about a year old, and he’s good around children. His previous owner died, which is why he is up for adoption.’ Carlos had hesitated when Betsy had looked stunned. ‘I thought you would like him.’

  ‘He’s the most beautiful dog in the world,’ she’d said in a choked voice when she’d been able to speak. ‘Are you sure we can keep him?’ She’d been afraid to get her hopes up.

  ‘He’s yours, querida,’ Carlos had told her gruffly. ‘The name on his collar is Chico, but I guess you can choose a different name for him.’

  Now, Betsy walked across her studio and opened the door. ‘Come, Chico!’ The little dog was instantly at her feet, tail wagging.

  Chico’s unconditional love helped to ease the ache in her heart but did not erase it. She told herself she was greedy to want more than she had. A healthy son, a beautiful home and an attentive and charming husband. Her marriage exceeded all her expectations.

  But she was in love with Carlos—deeply, desperately in love with him.

  It wasn’t the gifts he’d given her—although her studio and her dog brought her so much joy, and she appreciated the jewellery and flowers he often surprised her with. She loved him because he was a wonderful father to Sebastian. And he took an interest in her art and treated her as if she mattered to him.

  But she knew he only did those things because she was the mother of his child, and the stark truth was that if she hadn’t fallen pregnant two years ago, Carlos would never have returned to England to find her.

  The butler met Betsy in the entrance hall when she stepped out of her studio. ‘Un paquete is here for you,’ Eduardo said haltingly as he handed her a padded envelope.

  It had an English postmark and Betsy was curious as she opened the envelope and found another parcel. Inside this was a slim box, and when she lifted the lid she gasped at the sight of a row of diamonds sparkling on a black velvet cushion. It was known as a tennis bracelet—a single row of diamonds on a gold chain.

  Also in the box was a card with her name on, and a message scrawled in a bold hand.

  Mi querida Betsy,

  Perhaps you will wear this bracelet and think of me.

  Call me if you would like to meet me again.

  I hope to hear from you soon.

  Carlos.

  At the bottom of the card was a phone number.

  Carlos hadn’t abandoned her after they’d spent the night together. He had wanted to see her again.

  Betsy’s hands shook as she read the note which had been inside the envelope. It was from her Aunt Alice’s son, the one who had inherited the house in London when Alice died.

  Betsy,

  I recently found this parcel addressed to you while I was clearing out the unit where my mother’s personal belongings were stored when the house was sold. I remembered that it arrived after you moved away.

  Hope it wasn’t important.

  Lee

  On the back of the envelope was the sender’s name and address. Bradley Miller. Of course! Betsy remembered that Alice’s son’s full name was Bradley, but he always used the abbreviation Lee. He must have signed for the delivery as B. Miller, exactly as the courier had reported to Carlos.

  The parcel containing the bracelet was important.

  It changed everything.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WAS SHE CRAZY? Probably, Betsy answered herself. She hugged her arms around herself as nerves threatened to overwhelm her. She was about to take the biggest gamble of her life, and if it failed she would be looking into the abyss.

  But it wouldn’t fail, she tried to assure herself. When she’d opened the parcel earlier in the day and discovered the bracelet Carlos had sent her two years ago, she had been convinced it was proof that he had felt something for her. She hadn’t been just a casual fling as he’d told the journalist.

  If only she had been at the house in London and read his note when it had been delivered. She would have called him and told him she was pregnant. It was bittersweet to realise that things could have been so different. Carlos would have met his son when he was born instead of fifteen months later.

  She couldn’t give him back the time he’d missed with Sebastian. But at least he would know now that she hadn’t lied when she’d denied receiving the parcel. She had always been honest with him, and it was only right that she should be honest about her feelings for him now.

  ‘Are we celebrating something?’

  Carlo’s deep voice was indulgent as he strolled across the terrace. Betsy had asked the staff to set up a table and two chairs beside the pool. She gave a tense glance at the snowy white cloth, silver cutlery and long-stemmed glasses to check that everything was perfect. An arrangement of white roses in the centre of the table gave off a heady perfume. Her fingers were unsteady as she lit the candles before she turned to face him. She smoothed her hand nervously down the black silk sheath dress that fitted her like a second skin.

  ‘I thought it would be nice to dress up for dinner,’ she said huskily. Carlos looked mouthwatering in fitted black trousers and a soft cream shirt unbuttoned at the throat. ‘I’ve been wearing my painting shirt all day while I finished Sergio and Martina’s picture.’

  ‘You look amazing in that dress,’ he murmured as he stood in front of her. The dress had a halter neck and Carlos brushed his lips over one bare shoulder. ‘I hope you haven’t planned a dinner with many courses, because I’m ready for dessert now, mi belleza.’

  Her heart lurched as her awareness of him, as always, collided with her nerves. He smelled divine. The evocative scent of his sandalwood cologne teased her senses and suddenly she felt shy—which was ridiculous when he had seen every inch of her body, and stared into her eyes and glimpsed her soul each time she’d climaxed beneath him.

  ‘Let’s sit down,’ she said jerkily.

  His gaze sharpened on her hot face, but he said nothing as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before he moved around the table and sat down. The first course of gazpacho, a traditional Spanish cold soup, was already in bowls in front of them.

  Betsy lifted the cover from her bowl and reached for the bottle of red wine that she’d asked the butler to uncork and leave open to breathe. As she filled Carlos’s glass the diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkled in the candlelight. He stared at the bracelet and then at her.

  ‘My aunt’s son found the package that you sent to the house in London and posted it on to me. I remember I asked you once what a tennis bracelet was. Now I know.’ She turned her wrist and the diamonds glittered. ‘I’m two years too late, but it’s beautiful. Thank you.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘So you really didn’t receive the gift I sent you when I returned to Spain?’

  She shook her head. ‘If I’d had your phone number I would have called you. Fate is capricious,’ she murmured. ‘Things would have been different if I had known that you wanted to see me again.’

  ‘In what way different?’

  ‘I assume we would have been together when Sebastian was born, and there would not have been all these misunderstandings between us.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s true. I would have married you when I learned of your pregnancy to ensure that my child was legitimate at his birth.’

  Carlos’s matter-of-fact statement sent a ripple of unease through Betsy. ‘But my pregnancy wouldn’t have been the only reason you’d have married me, would it?’

  His brows drew together. ‘What do you mean?’

  She put down her spoon, her soup untouched, and lifted her arm to look at the diamond bracelet. ‘You sent me a beautiful gift and said you wanted to see me again. That means a lot to me.’ Her voice shook. ‘I love the bracelet...and I love you, Carlos. I fell in love with you two years ago, and I think... I hope...you feel the same way about me.’

  Something flared in his eyes, but w
as gone before she could assimilate what it was she had seen. And maybe she’d imagined it. His face was a beautiful sculpted mask that revealed no emotion, and his silence seemed faintly stunned, pressing against Betsy’s ears. Her stomach cramped with nervous tension at the creeping realisation that she might have gotten things horribly wrong.

  ‘I don’t share your feelings,’ he said abruptly.

  She bit down on her lip hard and tasted blood in her mouth. ‘So if I hadn’t fallen pregnant, if we hadn’t had Sebastian, where would our relationship have been?’ Ice formed around her heart. ‘Or are you saying that we wouldn’t have had a relationship? Even though you must have felt something for me to have sent the bracelet?’

  He dropped his gaze from hers. ‘That wasn’t the first time I’d given a bracelet as a gift.’

  Understanding dawned, and she would have sworn she actually heard her heart shatter. ‘You used to send bracelets to women when you wanted to have an affair with them. It was your calling card, and I was just one in a long line of casual flings like you told that journalist, wasn’t I?’

  ‘You didn’t want high emotion and drama,’ Carlos reminded her, almost aggressively. ‘Your parents’ volatile relationship ruined your childhood. You don’t want that for Sebastian, and nor do I.’ He raked his hair off his brow. ‘What we have is good—solid. A marriage based on reason and common sense and a desire to do the best for our son.’

  ‘Is that really all our marriage is to you?’ She had built castles in the air and now they were tumbling down. ‘Our honeymoon felt like more than common sense.’

  He looked away from her. ‘I needed to break the deadlock between us.’

  ‘And so you seduced me?’

  ‘If you remember, querida, you seduced me,’ he said softly.

  She had made it so easy for him, Betsy thought bleakly. He had spun his sensual web and she’d walked straight into it.