скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I’d be happier having cheated death once today if you kept your eyes on the road.’
‘Sulk?’ Accustomed to hearing the women in his life express rapturous praise, Rafael struggled to swallow this more critical analysis of his character.
On any other occasion his utter astonishment at the accusation might have drawn a smile from Maggie.
‘Well, you’re obviously in a strop over something, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t take it out on me.’
They had passed through the village before reaction hit her. She started to shake. She tugged the blanket closer and made a clinical diagnosis of delayed shock.
‘Are you cold?’ Rafael asked, adjusting the heating.
Biting back a childish, ‘Like you’d care’ she compressed her lips and said coldly, ‘I’m fine.’
‘Then why are you shaking?’
She was bewildered by his continued hostility and accusing manner. Did he think she was acting?
Determined to give him no opportunity to accuse her of being an attention seeker or canvassing the sympathy vote she plastered on a cheery smile.
‘I’m not,’ she denied. ‘I feel fine.’ It was only a very small lie, actually. Other than her shaking hands and the scratches on her arm that were stinging she really didn’t feel too bad, and she would feel a lot better once this man was a distant memory.
She was a very bad liar, though even a good liar, Rafael thought, his eyes flickering briefly in her direction, would have struggled to deny the chattering teeth and milky pallor.
Accustomed to the company of women who did not know the meaning of ‘putting on a brave face,’ he realised that stoicism was an overrated quality. And, far from making a woman low maintenance, all it meant in reality was a man could never relax. He would always be wondering if the bright smile actually hid an inner anguish.
Not that her anguish, inner or otherwise, was anything to do with him.
Sweat broke out like a rash over his upper lip as he relived those moments when he’d thought he wasn’t going to outrun the avalanche of destruction, that he was going to see her lost under half a runaway forest.
‘I suppose you think it was a brave thing to do?’
‘I didn’t think at all,’ she admitted, punching in the hotel number and missing the anger that pulled the skin taut across the sculpted bones of his face.
Rafael could not believe this woman. She was acting as if nothing had happened—surely she realised what danger she had been in.
He realised it.
His entire body went cold every time he realised it. Even now he could feel the fear that had clawed across his skin as he had been forced to stand by, helpless, and watch, unable to stop her until it had almost been too late.
A fine sheen of sweat broke out across the golden skin of his brow when he recalled the moment that he had thought he would not reach her in time.
He was a man who did not indulge in pointless what-if scenarios, and Rafael’s knuckles stood out white on the steering wheel as he found himself unable to stop projecting images, each one more horrific than the last. They all ended the same, with her broken, crushed body, and he would have been at least indirectly responsible.
She wouldn’t have been in a position to be harmed if he had not lured her away from the city. He might not have intended her actual harm, but he definitely hadn’t had her best interests at heart.
If anything had happened to her…? The unaccustomed guilt lay heavy on Rafael’s shoulders.
‘They will probably inscribe that on your headstone.’
The bitterness in his voice drew Maggie’s indignant gaze to his face. ‘There’s no need to take it out on me and I’m not planning on needing one just yet!’
Rafael, his eyes trained on the road ahead as he swerved to avoid a pothole, asked, ‘Don’t take what out on you?’
Maggie compressed her lips, aware that if she said she thought he had switched off the charm offensive and started to be so nasty because his expected one-night stand had turned into something more tedious it would be tantamount to an admission she had been expecting the same outcome this evening.
And you weren’t?
Frowning at the ironic voice in her head, she punched in the hotel number again.
‘You might as well put that phone down.’
Maggie ignored him. ‘I need to leave a message.’ The tour guide would not worry if she missed the optional evening entertainment, but if she didn’t arrive back until the early hours it was possible that they might start to worry. ‘I had plans for this evening.’
‘So did I.’
She flashed him a look and he added, without looking at her, ‘We have no signal here.’
‘I saw you using your phone.’
An expression she struggled to interpret broke the impassive stoniness of his expression. ‘There is no signal this side of the mountain.’
Despite the information, she tried once more before admitting defeat. ‘What time will we reach the city?’ she asked, dropping the phone back in her bag.
In the mirror he caught sight of her pressing her nose to the window like a child. Nothing else about her was childish. Recalling the softness of the warm body he had carried sent an indiscriminate pulse of lust through his body.
‘You will have to delay your plans,’ he informed her shortly. ‘We are not going to the city.’
The abrupt afterthought sank in and Maggie swivelled in her seat. ‘Is that a threat?’
He looked bored and said, ‘A fact.’
‘But I want—’
‘What you want is not factored into my plans. You know the time—it is not practicable to drive into the city. I have a house nearby.’ Beautiful women always thought the world revolved around them and just because she had a reckless streak that made her perform stupidly brave acts did not exclude Maggie Ward from this rule.
‘You said you would see me safely back.’
‘I did not say when.’
‘So when? Next week, next month?’ she enquired with silky sarcasm.
The silence stretched.
‘Are you trying to scare me?’
A raw laugh left Rafael’s throat. ‘Scare?’ How, he wondered, did you scare a woman who had so little regard for her own safety? Under that soft exterior Maggie Ward had a core of steel. ‘Is it working?’
‘In your dreams,’ she snorted. ‘Are you always this rude?’
He turned his head briefly and flashed her a grin that did not reach his steely eyes. ‘Yes.’
Her jaw tightened as she angled a narrow-eyed glare of seething dislike at his profile. ‘You really must be Mr Popularity.’
‘People generally overlook my manners.’
‘You’re not that good-looking,’ she lied, then flushed at the implied compliment.
‘I’m crushed,’ he said, sounding anything but.
‘It shows,’ she retorted, wondering how she could ever have thought this man sensitive and charming—he was a shallow, arrogant chauvinist.
‘But I am that rich.’
This boast drew a scornful snort. ‘I suppose you own this half of the mountain,’ she said, nodding to the towering bleak presence to their left.
‘And the other half and the village and two others actually.’
‘And I’m a duchess. I’m not that gullible, and you’re not that good a liar and as for your…wow!’ Maggie let out a silent whistle, her gaze riveted on the illuminated façade of a stone castle complete with turrets that loomed before them. ‘That is the most incredible hotel I have ever seen!’ she admitted, envying the glamorous people who must stay at a place like that.
Was he planning on staying there?
If so, it was distinctly possible he hadn’t been exaggerating the rich part. Well, that was one problem solved—they would have to part company. A place like that would not let her through the door looking like this.
‘It is not a hotel.’
‘You mean a family still lives there?’ What an anachronism, she thought, in this day and age for one family to occupy so much space, but maybe seeing it sold off to a developer might be a worse crime.
Directing his car through large ornate wrought-iron gates that swished open silently at their approach, Rafael shook his head as he drove down the avenue lined with lime trees.
‘No, just one person.’
‘All that for one person…’ She stopped, the colour receding from her already pale face as the penny finally dropped. ‘It’s yours, isn’t it?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE confirmed her suspicion with a tiny nod of his head. ‘You can use the landline to leave that message about your change of plans.’
‘My plans haven’t changed.’ Maggie found herself protesting to his back.
She was presuming they were expected because as his feet hit the gravel people started to appear. Presumably, she thought sourly, to respond to the commands he was issuing—at command issuing he was definitely not an amateur.
Maggie began to struggle with the car door, her spirits slightly buoyed because she realised that all she had to do was ask the hotel to send a taxi out to pick her up.
She wasn’t stranded or reliant on Rafael.
‘Allow me.’
Of course the door opened smoothly for him. Maggie nodded her head in an attitude of cold courtesy. ‘Thank you.’ It was good to feel in control again—you wish.
‘Can you manage or shall I carry you again?’
Was that a joke? Maggie decided she didn’t want to know. She pushed away the memory of being held in his arms and waving a hand in a shooing gesture, snapped crankily, ‘I’ve told you I’m fine.’
Catching sight of her reflection in the wing mirror, she realised that she did not look fine.
The inner masochist in her made Maggie take a second look, she barely repressed a groan.
It wasn’t hard to see why the smouldering Spaniard had stopped smouldering, and who could blame him for going off her big time?
Her hair had returned to its natural curly state; surrounding her face in a dark tangled froth and hanging loose down her back, it made her look scary. As for her face minus all make-up and plus a lot of dirt… She closed her eyes and thought it was just as well the seduction idea was off the menu.
‘We have mirrors inside.’
His tall figure, backlit by the light streaming through the open door, stood there, his arms folded across his exposed chest radiating impatience.
Maggie gave a grimace, embarrassed at being caught out staring at her reflection. ‘I’m coming,’ she huffed, jogging to catch him up.
Rafael watched her approach with a frown. ‘Slow down. There’s no fire.’
Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Make up your mind!’ It seemed to her that it didn’t really matter what she did—as far as this man was concerned it would be the wrong thing.
The massive metal-banded oak door she followed him through opened directly into what appeared to be an old banqueting hall complete with roaring fire, suits of armour and tapestries on the stone walls.
How many centuries had his family lived here? she thought, wondering what it must be like to trace your roots this far back. Her eyes widened…my God!
She spun around. ‘I’ve forgotten your full name.’
He blinked at the confession. ‘Rafael-Luis Castenadas,’ he revealed, watching her face carefully for a reaction.
There was none. If she had come to search for her mother, he would have thought she would be more than familiar with the name.
‘Ramon will show you where you can use the phone.’
‘You…?’ She was talking to his back. She wrapped her arms around her body, fighting the vulnerable sensation—vulnerable because Rafael Castenadas’s presence did not offer her security.
Quite the contrary was true.
A tall thin man wearing a dark suit and a sombre expression, presumably the Ramon in question, escorted Maggie to a room off an inner hallway. Despite the massive dimensions it was actually quite cosy-looking, with book-lined walls, vibrant-coloured rugs on the polished wood floor and a fire burning in the open fireplace.
To complete the domestic picture a dog of indeterminate parentage lay asleep on one of the large sofas. It opened one eye when Maggie walked in, wagged its tail and went back to sleep.
The thin man nodded towards the phone, and went to leave.
‘No…don’t…’ She dropped her outstretched hand when he turned.
‘Can I help you?’
She gave a sigh of relief. ‘Great, you speak English. I was wondering, where am I exactly…the address, I mean, of here? Does here have a name?’
