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THEY arrived at Leandro’s house in Madrid some time in the early evening when dusk was approaching. Not knowing his personal tastes at all, Isabella was struck by the quiet, unpretentious beauty of the stone-built farmhouse—known as a finca in Spanish, as Leandro had informed her—situated far away from the hub of the main town in rural splendour. Its edifice glowed cloud-white in the fading light of day and as they drove up in the car Leandro had left at the airport for his return the external lighting automatically came on, illuminating their way. Almost immediately there was something about the place that touched a chord deep inside Isabella. An inexplicable sense of coming home even though she told herself she was just being ridiculous and foolishly, unrealistically hopeful. Deliberately, she put the feeling aside.
She shivered slightly in the cool night air as she stepped out of the car, her senses immediately captivated by the richly resinous scent of the earth, and her blood was irrevocably stirred. She loved this land, she realised. She had grown up loving it because of her wonderful grandfather who had told her so many stories about his homeland that it had almost made Isabella homesick. That was why she had always longed to walk the Camino. Somehow, undertaking such a pilgrimage had brought her even closer to the spirit of her grandfather as well as to the land, and it had also set her on the way to discovering what was her own heart’s desire. Flicking a quick covetous glance at Leandro as he walked round to the boot of the car to see to their luggage—his long-legged stride and broad shoulders in his stylish sports jacket and jeans making her heart race suddenly—Isabella reflected that perhaps it hadn’t been so difficult for her to make the decision to come back to Spain after all.
‘He is asleep?’
‘Yes …he hardly even put up a fight. I think the plane journey and the travelling wore him out.’
‘Sí …I think you are right.’
Immediately detecting the apprehension in her expression that she could not hide, Leandro wondered how Isabella had viewed the fact that he had moved her immediately into the master bedroom—her cases down by his next to the big brass and iron bed that he usually slept in alone. They were going to be man and wife …and he saw no point in delaying the inevitable and making her doubt his intention by giving her a room of her own. Especially not when he had already waited eighteen months to experience the rapturous feeling of her body next to his again.
Raphael’s travelling cot, Leandro had placed next to Isabella’s side of the bed until Constanza—his mother—brought the beautifully carved cradle that he had slept in himself as a baby from her home tomorrow. It had been all he could do to dissuade her from visiting them tonight, such was her eagerness to see her grandson—but thankfully Leandro had been able to convince her that a visit was better left to the following day when Isabella and Raphael were more rested after their journey from London.
‘You look a little tired. Why don’t you come and make yourself at home?’ he suggested, his deceptively cool gaze hiding the clamour of aroused senses inside him that were inevitably charged by the sight of Isabella’s too-provoking beauty. Wearing a simple white linen shirt with light blue denim jeans and a black silver-buckled belt, her long ebony hair left unbounded and her feet fetchingly bare, she would have set the most impervious of male hearts to racing. If he were to point a film camera her way, Leandro had no doubt that that same captivating appeal would absolutely transfix an audience were she to appear on the screen. He knew his trade well enough to know that his instincts were right.
Studying her in silence as she moved across the room to seat herself on a couch draped with a vivid ochre-coloured Andalucian shawl, he could see why most people would naturally assume she was a true native of Spain—a bewitching señorita with eyes as black as treacle and a slow, sweet smile as sinful as ‘Diablo’ himself.
‘This is a great room,’ she commented, her gaze contemplating her surroundings with seeming pleasure.
***
Where should she look first? Isabella’s senses were confounded and captivated by the almost shockingly vivid colours that filled the room—colours that had no business complimenting each other but did. From the truly surprising candyfloss-pink-painted walls, to the mismatched rainbow hues on the chairs and couches and the breathlessly lovely interwoven Indian rugs that covered the generously proportioned stone-flagged floor. It was the unrestrained creation of an artist. Even if she never stepped outside the door and saw where they were, Isabella would instinctively know that she was under the spell of someone whose very soul was steeped in the culture and wilder landscapes of this arresting land. Even the books that crowded Leandro’s bookcases had bright, unrestrained, eye-catching spines that made her long to go over and examine them more closely, to see what treasures the well-thumbed pages were hiding. The result of all this dramatic use of colour and material was a passionate, seductive sensibility that seemed to spill over into everything. It agitated Isabella’s blood as well, making her acutely responsive to almost every single detail about this remarkable man at whose instigation she was here and whose steady commanding gaze drew her attention helplessly back to his as though magnetised.
‘I am glad that you like it, Isabella. This is my favourite home and it is here that we will spend the majority of the time together.’
‘Your favourite?’ she queried.
‘I have other homes in Pontevedra and in Paris where we will sometimes stay. But Madrid is my main base because I endeavour to arrange for most of my work to be here. I think it is important to help the economy by utilising local talent and locations whenever I can. Can I get you something to drink? Some wine, some juice, perhaps? We will eat later. In Madrid we are used to having dinner late …sometimes as late as eleven o’clock at night. Does that bother you?’
‘Not at all. I ate on the plane and I’m not hungry anyway. I don’t need a drink right now either, thanks.’
Mention of his work was enough to almost make Isabella beg him to tell her more. How she longed to have him talk freely to her about what inspired him, or moved him …what kind of scripts compelled him to direct them and what were his personal favourite films? Then, unwittingly catching the almost suggestive little smile curving his too disturbing mouth, she nervously recalled the fact that tonight she was expected to share a bed with this most enigmatic of men that the rest of the world seemed to hunger to know about. But as much as Isabella longed to know Leandro’s loving again and had been craving his presence even more since giving birth to Raphael, she did not know if she was ready to be intimate with him. She was so confused. It still stung to remember that disparaging comment the woman at his offices had made about there always being some woman hanging onto his coat tails. Could she trust a man who seemed to treat relationships with women so lightly? He might be a good father to Raphael, but was he capable of being the kind of devoted husband that Isabella secretly dreamed of?
As if intuiting her thoughts, Leandro moved across the room to stand before her. His gaze was quietly reflective as he stared down at her. ‘You know that we are sharing a room together tonight?’ he commented.
All the hairs stood up on the back of Isabella’s neck. ‘I saw,’ she replied quietly, her dark eyes widening. She knew he wouldn’t like what she had to say, but she had to say it. ‘To be honest …I don’t really think that’s such a good idea.’
‘Why not?’ His eyes immediately blazed back his irritation.
‘Because a lot of time has passed since we were together and I don’t think I’m ready to jump straight back into a physical relationship.’
‘So what are you telling me, Isabella? That you intend to live like a nun while we are together under the same roof?’ The twist of his lips was scornful.
‘I need more time to …to think about that side of things.’
‘Dios! Why are you being so deliberately difficult?’ he flared.
Isabella flinched. ‘I’m not being deliberately difficult!’ she retaliated angrily. ‘I did as you asked, Leandro …I came to live here in Spain with you and our baby! Isn’t that enough change to be going on with for the moment? My feelings are all churned up here! I need time to deal with how I feel without you pressurising me to sleep with you!’
‘No!’
‘What do you mean no?’ Her heart was pounding in her ears as Leandro reached out and locked his hand round her wrist. His grip was like a tight iron band and, before she could think what to do, he roughly pulled her to her feet, his warm breath on her face. ‘I have been aching to do this for ever and will not deny myself any longer,’ he breathed huskily before bringing his lips down almost violently ardently upon Isabella’s.
Yes, yes! Isabella cried silently as a jolt of pure lust streaked through her veins. It’s been too long …too long. His at first coaxing, then demanding kiss was full of the vivacity and passion that sparked the creation of this boldly decorated room, and it was so hard to resist its rapture when she needed it more than she needed to take her next breath. Yet the possibility stole into her mind that Leandro might only be using her to gratify his own baser needs and the unwanted thought was like a snake in paradise. It kept pricking her consciousness like the sharpest pin and in the end she had to take action. Twisting her mouth away from his, Isabella leaned her elbows against his hard chest and broke free from his embrace. Her breath was ragged.
‘I told you I needed time! Why won’t you listen?’
Her dark eyes were full of tears and Leandro reeled from the wave of emotion and lust that swept through his body like a violent storm cloud and slowly drew the back of his hand across his mouth where her taste lingered like sensual sugar tempting and frustrating him. He knew from the way her body had trembled against his and the way she had moaned into his mouth that she welcomed his kisses, yet he could not understand why she held back from their ultimate union. He had already told her that he intended to marry her, so why was she so reticent? He wished she would be more honest with him because it immediately set up a feeling of mistrust inside him that she might have some other ulterior motive for keeping him out of her bed. Having experienced the manipulation and duplicity of women before, Leandro baulked at the idea of experiencing it again.
‘I am listening, Isabella, but unfortunately you are not making any sense!’ he said now. ‘You have not been with anyone else since we were together, you tell me, and you have had my baby! It is clear that we have a strong connection between us, so what is the problem?’
How could she tell him that she was wary of his intentions because she didn’t think he loved her? If the thought had not even crossed his mind, why would it mean anything to him if she voiced it? Swallowing back her tears, Isabella wearily pushed her fingers through her hair.
‘I’m suddenly feeling quite tired. I think I’ll go and lie down for a while.’
‘That is your prerogative, of course, but do not think to divert the issue by doing so! I fully expect us to share a bed together tonight so you had better get used to the idea! While you are resting I intend to make some phone calls and catch up with some work. My housekeeper has left food in the kitchen for us when we are hungry so you must help yourself whenever that may be. Do not wait for me; I will see to myself when I am ready.’ He paused, his glance hovering for a long unsettling moment on Isabella’s mouth. ‘The run of the house is yours. You must feel free to look around as much as you want to familiarise yourself where everything is. I will join you in our room later …that is a promise.’ Leandro regretfully started to withdraw, feeling undeniable frustration that again there was such dissension between them. It did not bode well for the start of their renewed relationship.
‘Leandro?’
‘What is it?’
‘What will I do tomorrow when you leave to go to work for the day?’ Still smarting with indignation from his dictatorial attitude towards her, Isabella crossed her arms in front of her chest.
‘You may do whatever you please, Isabella. Why not work on your book? There is of course a car at your disposal for when you want to go out …I will leave it out on the drive and the keys are on the dressing table in our room. There is also a map in the glove compartment so you cannot get lost. However, I would ask you to wait in a little while before you venture out because my mother, Constanza, is paying you and Raphael a visit first thing in the morning.’
‘But you won’t be here for her visit?’ Feeling her heart accelerate a little in sudden panic at the idea of meeting his mother without him being present, Isabella anxiously stroked the delicate skin of her throat.
Shrugging, Leandro dropped his hands to his hips. ‘I am sorry …but it is the first day of filming tomorrow and I have no idea what time I shall be home.’ Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he took out his wallet and extracted some notes. ‘Here is some money for you to get whatever you need for you and Raphael. Please take it …it is yours.’
‘I don’t want your money!’
Her dark eyes flared because Isabella was genuinely embarrassed that Leandro should give her money …as if she were some kind of pauper. She might not be exactly rich but she had not come to Spain without any funds whatsoever! His answering scowl was immediate and foreboding. ‘Isabella,’ he intoned seriously, ‘you are the mother of my son and soon to be my wife. Do not act as if I am treating you like some charity case. From now on my money is yours too and both you and our son must have whatever you need without question. Is that clear?’
‘Leandro,’ she replied a little breathlessly, ignoring the money in his outstretched hand, ‘it is far too early to talk of financial arrangements when there is still so much to sort out. And marriage is something that we have yet to properly discuss too.’
‘Bastante! Enough! It has been a long day, no? And perhaps something of a strain for both of us.’ He put the money down on a chair behind him and sighed. ‘Now is not the time for us to argue over the matter. Go and take your rest and I will be in my office.’
And before Isabella could even think of pressing the point, Leandro made his absence in the room acutely felt as he abruptly vacated it.
Checking on Raphael for the umpteenth time since she’d returned to their room, Isabella saw with deeply maternal satisfaction that her little boy continued to sleep peacefully in his travel cot by the side of the bed. Picking up the novel she’d been reading, she straightened her bookmark and closed it. Instead of reading, she leant back against the plumped up pillows covered in scented, immaculate white linen and released a sigh that seemed to emanate from her soul. It was almost half past midnight and there was still neither sight nor sound of Leandro. Isabella’s sigh helplessly transmuted into a yawn. It had
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