Spanish Escape: The Playboy of Puerto Banús / A Game of Vows / For the Sake of Their Son

‘SORRY!’

Gordon apologised profusely for scaring her, after Estelle had walked into the guest room much later that night to find a monster!

He whipped the mask off. ‘It’s for my breathing. I have sleep apnoea.’

Estelle had changed in a tiny bathroom along the draughty hall and was now wearing some very old, very tatty pale pink pyjamas that she only put on when she was sick or reading for an entire weekend. It was all she’d had at short notice, but Estelle was quite sure Gordon wasn’t expecting cleavage and sexy nightdresses.

She offered to take the sofa bed—he was paying her, after all—but true to his word he insisted that she have the bed.

‘Thank you so much for tonight, Estelle.’

‘It’s been fine,’ Estelle said as she rubbed cold cream into her face and took her make-up off. ‘It must be so hard on you, though,’ she mused, trying to get off the last of her mascara. ‘Having to hide your real life.’

‘It certainly hasn’t been easy, but six months from now I’ll be able to be myself.’

‘Can’t you now?’

‘If it was just about me then I probably would have by now,’ Gordon explained. ‘Frank is so private, though—it would be awful for him to have our relationship discussed on the news, which it would be. Still, six months from now we’ll be sunning it in Spain.’

‘Is that where you’re going to live?’

‘And marry,’ Gordon said. ‘Gay marriage is legal there.’

Estelle was really tired now; she slipped into bed and they chatted a little while more.

‘You know that Virginia has nearly finished her studies…?’

‘I know.’ Estelle sighed—not only because she would miss her housemate, but also because she would need to find someone else to share if she continued with her course. But then she realised what Gordon was referring to.

‘She’s starting work next month. I don’t want to offend you by suggesting anything, but if you did want to accompany me to things for a few months…’

He didn’t push, and for that Estelle was grateful.

‘Have a think about it,’ Gordon said, and wished her goodnight.

Estelle was soon drifting off, thinking not about Gordon’s offer but about Raúl and his pursuit.

And it had been a pursuit.

From the moment their eyes had locked he had barely left her thoughts or her side, whether standing behind her at the wedding or sitting beside her at dinner. She still could not comprehend what had taken place on the dance floor; she had been searching for the bells and whistles and sirens of an orgasm, but how delicious and gentle that had been—how much more was there to know?

She didn’t dare think too much about it now. Exhausted from a long and tiring day, Estelle was just about to drift off to sleep when Gordon turned on his ventilation machine.

Ginny hadn’t told her about this part.

She lay there, head under pillow, at two a.m., still listening to the CPAP machine whirring and hissing. In the end she gave in.

She padded through the castle, her bare feet making not a sound on the stone floor. She headed to the small bathroom and took a drink from the tap, willing the night to be over.

Then she looked at her surroundings and regretted willing it over.

She stepped out onto a huge stone balcony, stared out to the loch. It was incredibly light for this time of the morning. She breathed in the warm summer night air and now her thoughts did turn to Gordon and his offer.

Estelle had already been coming to a reluctant decision to defer her studies and work full-time. It was all so big and scary—a future that was unknown.

She turned as the door opened, her eyes widening as Raúl stepped out.

He was wearing only his kilt.

Estelle would have preferred him with clothes on. Not because there was anything to disappoint—far from it—but the sight of olive skin, the light fan of hair on his chest and the way the kilt hung gave her eyes just one place to linger. There was nothing safe about meeting his gaze.

It was only then that she realised he had not followed her out here—that instead he was speaking on the phone.

He must have come out to get better reception. She gave him a brief smile and went to brush past, to get away from him without incident, but his hand caught her wrist and she stood there as he spoke into the phone.

‘You don’t need to know what room I am in…’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Araminta, I suggest that you go to bed.’ He let out an irritated hiss. ‘Alone!’

He ended the call and only then dropped Estelle’s wrist. She stood as he examined her face.

‘You know, without all the make-up you slather on…’ His eyes searched her unmade-up skin. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail and she was dressed in a way he would not expect Gordon to find pleasing.

Raúl did.

She looked young—so much younger without all the make-up—and her baggy pyjamas left it all to Raúl’s imagination. Which he was using now.

And then came his verdict.

‘You look stunning,’ Raúl said. ‘I’m surprised Gordon has let you out of his sight.’

‘I just needed some air.’

‘I am hiding,’ Raúl admitted.

‘From Araminta?’

‘Someone must have given her my phone number. I am going to have to change it.’

‘She’ll give in soon.’ Estelle smiled, feeling a little sorry for the other woman. If Araminta had had a fling with him a few years ago and had known he would be here tonight—well, Estelle could see why her hopes might have been raised.

His phone rang again and he rolled his eyes and chose not to answer. ‘So, what are you doing out here at this time of morning?’

‘Just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Things.’ She gave a wry smile, didn’t add that far too many of her thoughts had been about him.

‘And me,’ Raúl admitted. ‘It has been an interesting day.’