The Return of Her Past

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‘It’s a traditional way to stop a fight between a man and a woman,’ he said dryly. ‘Didn’t you know?’

Her lashes fell and it occurred to him that he’d hurt her again—like some ham-fisted clod, he thought with distaste. ‘Mia, I would never have warned you off because you were the housekeeper’s daughter.’

‘Oh, Carlos, you may be able to deceive yourself but—’

‘Listen,’ he broke in savagely, ‘yes, I’d have told you there was no future for us then but it had nothing to do with who you were. I have never,’ he said through his teeth, ‘shared my mother’s delusions of grandeur.’

It flashed through Mia’s mind, an image of herself during the day and how, once again, she’d keenly felt her position on the sidelines, despite her designer clothes and her undoubted skills. How she’d proven to herself today that she still had a long way to go in the self-confidence stakes, how she might always be a fringe-dweller compared to the O’Connors and the ubiquitous Nina French.

But above all how much it hurt to know that Carlos would have warned her off himself…

As for his proposal?

‘I think you must be mad,’ she said with bitter candour, ‘if you really believe I’d want to get engaged to you. After all that—have you any idea how cheap your mother made me feel?’

He closed his eyes briefly, then released her and handed her her glass. She blinked and took a sip of brandy.

Carlos stared at her for an eternity, then he said abruptly, ‘How old are you now?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Why not—twenty-five?’

She nodded.

‘Has there been anyone?’

Two spots of colour entered her cheeks and she put her glass down on the trolley with a snap. ‘That’s none of your business, Carlos.’

‘I think it is. I think it must have been a ghastly experience. My mother—’ He gestured and shrugged.

‘I’m a little surprised you believe me,’ Mia broke in.

‘My mother,’ he repeated dryly, ‘has persistently meddled in all our lives but not in a way that’s actually hurt anyone like this before. What happened to my father came as a big shock to her too and may have made her…may have unbalanced her a bit.’ He paused and grimaced. ‘Whatever, I can’t let this go.’

‘There’s nothing you can do. I…one…gets over these things.’

‘That’s the problem, I don’t think you have. I strongly suspect you’re a twenty-five-year-old virgin, Mia.’

Mia gasped and jumped up. ‘Will you…will you just go away?’ she flung at him. ‘To…to think,’ she stammered, ‘that I thought you were the nicest of the O’Connors.’

He lifted a wry eyebrow. ‘The best of a bad bunch?’

‘Yes! No. Oh!’ Mia clenched her fists and ground her teeth and suddenly it was all too much for her again and she kicked her shoes off and ran out onto the veranda, onto the lawn and down towards her cottage.

Of course she came to grief—it was that kind of day.

She didn’t see the sliver of glass she stepped onto although she yelped in pain.

Carlos was right behind her, and he said her name on a harsh breath and simply picked her up and turned as if to take her back to the big house.

‘No, no,’ she said raggedly. ‘I don’t want to bleed all over the house.’

‘Where then?’

‘Down there, my cottage. I’ve got a first aid kit. Oh, I’m bleeding all over you.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Here we are. Stand on one foot while I open the door and get the lights.’

A few minutes later Mia was sitting lengthwise on her settee with a towel under her foot. Carlos had turned all the lights on and, following her instructions, had found the first aid kit in the bathroom.

‘I’m a good doctor, by the way,’ he said as he laid out tweezers, a bowl of antiseptic, cotton wool and dressings.

‘How do you know?’ Mia peeled off her stocking.

‘I’ve had no complaints to date.’

‘How many people have you actually “doctored”?’ she asked. ‘Is it deep?’

He studied her heel. ‘Deep enough. But I can’t see anything in it and we should be able to keep it from bleeding until tomorrow when we can get you to a proper doctor. It might need a couple of stitches. You’ll have to keep off it for a while.’

He dabbed it liberally with cotton wool dipped in antiseptic, then he dried it and applied a dressing.

‘There.’ He sat back. Then he reached for her and took her in his arms. ‘And you’re a good patient,’ he said into her hair. ‘Feeling OK?’ He held her away and studied her face. ‘You look a bit pale.’

Mia grimaced and, without giving it a second thought, laid her head against his shoulder. ‘I’ll be OK. I feel a bit stupid. I always check the lawn for broken glass; when people drink you never know what they can end up doing with their glasses. I never sprint across it barefoot.’

‘Why did you?’ He kissed the top of her head and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to Mia.

But she sighed. ‘I was running away from you, Carlos.’ She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. ‘For a few minutes I really hated you. And thinking back makes me feel that way again.’

‘Then don’t think back,’ he advised and traced the outline of her mouth. ‘It always was one of the most delicious mouths I’ve ever seen.’

Mia was conscious of a growing clamour in her nerve-endings, delicious but at the same time disturbing, as her awareness of him grew. Awareness of how surprisingly strong he was; he’d carried her with ease. Awareness of all the old sensations being in his arms could arouse, the feel of his body against hers, the pure male scent she used to love so much when they rode together, of the cotton of his shirt mingled with a hint of musk.

Awareness and memories of his hands, so sure when he’d kissed and touched her tonight and once before, even if he was suffering from a concussion on that occasion.

It was that last thought that brought her up with a start. She had to remember that Carlos was dangerous to her mental health!

Correspondingly, she pushed herself away from him and changed tack deliberately and completely. ‘This accident couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I’ve got wall-to-wall functions over the next week. I really need to be on my feet!’

‘Tomorrow?’ he queried.

‘No, not tomorrow but from the day after.’

He looked at her with some irony. ‘Don’t you have any contingency plans? Are yours the only pair of feet available?’

Mia sank back. ‘Well, no. There’s Gail.’

‘Ah, Gail,’ Carlos murmured with a sudden glint of amusement in his grey eyes. ‘Now, I met Gail. She very kindly introduced herself to me and offered me any assistance I might need.’

Mia looked briefly heavenward.

Carlos noted this with a twist to his lips. ‘I did form the impression, however, that, despite being young and impressionable, Gail is a fairly practical person. Possibly a hard worker as well.’

Mia closed her eyes on her inward irritation, then opened them to say honestly, ‘You’re right. Forgive me, Gail,’ she added in an aside.