Santiago's Command

He stared at her incredulously. ‘You are giving me advice on parenting? So, how many children do you have, Miss Fitzgerald?’

She sucked in a furious breath. Where did this man get off being so superior? ‘Well, if I did have one I’d make damned sure I wasn’t too busy to notice she had driven off on a quad bike!’

The expression that Lucy saw move at the back of his eyes—so bleak it was almost haunted—made her almost regret her taunt, but she stifled the stab of guilt. She’d save her pity for someone who deserved it. He was a bully, used to people sitting and taking what he dished out.

Well, she wasn’t going to take it, not from him, not from anyone.

‘Stay away from my family or I will make you wish you’d never been born.’ Without waiting for her response, he turned and started walking towards the car.

By the time she reached the finca Lucy was so mad she was shaking like someone with a fever.

‘Lucy, my dear, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’ Harriet studied the face of her ex-student with growing concern.

‘Nothing, I’m fine. Don’t get up,’ she added as the older woman struggled to rise from her chair. ‘You should have rested longer. You know what the doctor said about keeping your foot up to stop it swelling again.’

Harriet subsided back into her seat with a frustrated grunt. ‘I’ll stay here if you tell me what’s wrong, Lucy.’

In the middle of pacing agitatedly across the room, Lucy paused, her fists in tight balls at her sides, her face coloured by two bright spots of anger on her smooth cheeks, and gave a high little laugh. ‘Mr Smug Sanctimonious Creep Silva is wrong!’

Harriet looked confused. ‘Ramon!’ she exclaimed. ‘But he seems a sweet boy, if a little full of himself … whatever has he done?’ She had never seen the student she considered one of the brightest young women she had ever taught lose her air of serene calm. Even during the awful press witch hunt she had remained cool and aloof.

‘Ramon …?’ Lucy shook her head impatiently and took up her pacing. ‘It’s not Ramon, it’s his brother,’ she gritted.

‘Santiago? You’ve met him … is he here?’

Lucy gave a grim smile. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve had that pleasure twice now.’ She reached for the phone and punched in the number she had scribbled down on the pad beside it. ‘Ramon …?’ Lucy slowed her agitated breathing and took a deep breath. ‘Dinner tonight …?’

When she told Harriet the full story her old tutor was sympathetic but, to her annoyance, inclined to make excuses for Santiago Silva. ‘He jumped to conclusions and that was wrong.’

‘He virtually called me a tart and now today he flings out his threats!’ Lucy raged. Even thinking about the man made her want to smash things. Nobody had ever got under her skin this way.

‘Why not let me explain the situation to him, Lucy?’

Lucy’s lower lip jutted mutinously. ‘Why should I explain? He’s the one in the wrong.’

‘Gabby is the apple of his eye and very wilful. He’s also very protective of his younger brother. I understand their father died when Ramon was just a boy, and Santiago was very young when he inherited the estancia. Reading between the lines, I get the impression that given half the chance his stepmother fancied herself as the power behind the throne, so to speak, which from what I know of her would have been a disaster,’ Harriet confided. ‘Santiago had to establish his authority from day one. Not easy for a young man, which might have made him a little—’

‘Full of himself?’ Lucy suggested acidly. ‘The man needs teaching a lesson.’ And not, in her opinion, people to make excuses for him just because he was rich and lived in some sort of castle.

‘Oh, dear! You will be careful, won’t you, Lucy? I’ve heard reports that suggested Santiago can be ruthless. I’d not given much credence to them, since successful men tend to engender jealousy and his reputation here is … well, I’ve never heard anyone have a bad word to say. Yet given what you’ve said …?’

Lucy smiled. ‘I’ll be fine.’

CHAPTER THREE

DESPITE the fact she had been a successful model, Lucy had never been obsessed by fashion. This was not to say she didn’t like clothes. Her lifestyle now meant comfort was the order of the day; heels were not much good when you were mucking out the stables! However, there were occasions when she got tired of her androgynous work clothes and sensible shoes and then she’d open the wardrobe and spend an hour or so parading around her bedroom in some of the clothes she had kept from her previous life.

It wasn’t so much that she missed being a clothes horse, because she didn’t; it was more she missed being, well … a woman!

And now, feeling the silky swish of a dress that had come from the designer in question’s famous ‘Marilyn Collection’—a gift, he’d said, because she had made him wish he were straight—Lucy had to admit the bright red dress really did do some amazing things for her figure, making her waist look tiny and her curves look lush.

She brushed her hands down the bodice and glanced in the mirror. The figure-hugging cut made the fabric cling to the long lines of her thighs when she moved. The effect was sexy and provocative, which seemed appropriate when what she wanted to do was provoke! Her anger felt strange when she’d spent the last four years trying to play down her looks and blend in.

An image of Santiago Silva’s autocratic dark features formed in her head and the beginnings of doubt faded. Pursing her lips, Lucy gave her reflection a nod. The look was exactly what she wanted. Now, she told herself, was not the time for doubts.

‘Wow, you look …’ Ramon swallowed ‘… different.’

She arched a brow and, closing the door, followed him across the yard. ‘Different good or different bad?’ she teased.

Ramon laughed and opened the door to his low-slung car. ‘Oh, definitely good, but it’s lucky you didn’t look like that the first time I saw you.’

‘Why?’ Lucy was curious.

‘Because I wouldn’t have dared approach you. You look way out of my league tonight, Lucy.’

‘I’m still me.’ Lucy felt uneasy, Ramon’s appreciation bordering on reverence.

The sense of anticipation and righteous indignation she had begun the journey with began to fade by the time they reached the massive gates of the Silva estancia, replaced by a growing sense of unease and guilt.

What the hell was she doing? This was a crazy idea! She glanced towards Ramon and thought, Not just crazy—cruel. In her determination to score points off the awful brother she had not paused to consider the consequences of her actions. Not for one second had she considered the hurt she might be inflicting on the nice brother.

The sense of shame grew until she couldn’t bear it another second.

‘I can’t,’ she muttered under her breath as she reached for her seat belt. ‘Stop!’

Ramon responded to the shrill screech and hit the brake, jerking Lucy, who had freed herself from the belt, into the windscreen.

‘Madre mia, are you all right?’

Lucy rubbed her head and leaned back in the seat. ‘Fine,’ she said, dismissing his concern with a shake of her head and then regretting it, she had the start of a headache.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ramon cast a questioning look at her tense profile. ‘I could have slowed down, all you had to do was ask,’ he joked lightly as he wound down the window. ‘That was quite a bang you took.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘So, other than my driving, what’s the problem?’

Lucy looked at Ramon and read concern in his handsome face. She bit her lip, feeling more guilty than ever. She took a deep breath. There was no way she could continue with the charade so it was best to come clean now.

‘No, I’m not all right—I’m a total bitch!’ Not as much of a bitch as Santiago Silva thought she was, but it was a close thing.

Ramon looked annoyingly unconvinced by her emotional claim.

‘When I rang you it wasn’t … it was a mistake. I’m sorry. I know I let you believe, but the—I’m not interested in you that way …’

Ramon did not display the shock she had anticipated. ‘I did wonder … So, you don’t fancy me?’

She flashed him a grateful look and shook her head slowly. ‘I really am sorry.’