Kat's Pride

‘You are dressed like a hooker and you are behaving like a hooker!’ he had hissed. ‘So why don’t you go and cover yourself up, and then take the time to learn a few lessons on the correct way to conduct yourself in public.’

After this blistering attack, he had sauntered back into the ballroom—past her father, who had silently been observing them—and returned to the beautiful woman in cream. Where, according to her sisters, he had tenderly wrapped her in a soft shawl and had taken her off into the night—leaving Kat alone with her shame and her disbelief that she could have behaved in such a way. That she could have been so predatory.

Her sisters had also taken great delight in informing her that not only was the man a famous ex-bullfighter, but that he could have his pick of the most gorgeous women in the world. Which had only made her feel worse.

And that had been the last time she’d seen Carlos Guerrero.

Until now.

Painful memories cleared and Kat realised that the Spaniard was watching her and that she was still holding the letter from her father which had put her in this man’s power.

So forget the terrible way you behaved and the cruel way he rebuffed you. That’s all in the past now. Why not appeal to his sense of logic instead? Forcing a smile, she turned to him. ‘Look, Carlos, you can’t want this any more than I do,’ she urged.

Carlos considered her words. When her father had asked him to employ her, his first instinct had been to bat the suggestion away. Because he wasn’t into playing mentor. Particularly not to spoiled little rich girls who lived their lives like greedy children let loose in a candy store.

So why the hell hadn’t he refused this challenge?

Because Oscar Balfour had been good to him, had helped him set up the property business which had made him a very wealthy man indeed. For there had been a time when nobody wanted to know the angry young Spaniard battling to make a new life for himself. When Carlos had been nothing but an ex-matador who had spent every penny he’d earned, Oscar had taken a risk by giving him a sizeable loan. Had trusted him at a time when few others had—and a man never forgot something like that.

No, he could not have turned down Oscar’s request—no matter how unwanted the suggestion had been.

‘Since you ask—no, I don’t want this at all. I have much better things to do with my time than playing nursemaid to a spoiled brat,’ he said coolly. ‘But my wishes are irrelevant. Your father asked for my help, and so I’m giving it. I owe him.’ He shrugged. ‘And it wasn’t exactly onerous to employ you on my boat. I’m always looking for an extra pair of hands.’

Kat shook her head. ‘You want money?’ she questioned desperately. ‘I can write you a cheque if you set me free.’

For a moment Carlos shook his head, appalled by the sheer impudence of her offer. Did she think that he could be bought, or that money could buy her out of any tight corner? He guessed she did—for hadn’t it been lavished on her during all her life? Suddenly, he found himself remembering the unalloyed poverty of his early years. Of the way his mother had spent every waking hour cleaning for the rich—her careworn hands red and cracked, her eyes dark from lack of sleep. And Carlos felt another wave of contempt for this girl who had always had things so easy.

‘You forget that buying your way out is no longer an option since your father has cut off your allowance,’ he drawled.

‘But I have money I can access!’ she declared. ‘Jewels I can sell!’

‘Just not when you’re in the middle of the Mediterranean, hmm?’ he countered sarcastically.

And suddenly the reality of the situation hit her. Him. And her—stuck in a boat whose dimensions seemed to be diminishing by the second. ‘I’m…I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement,’ she said wildly.

‘I don’t think so.’ The black eyes narrowed and he glanced over to the tight, white T-shirt and the tops of her bare brown thighs which were so graphically showcased in the tiny pair of shorts. ‘Unless you’re offering payment in kind, of course?’ he added insultingly, his voice soft. ‘You’re certainly dressed as if you are.’

It took Kat a moment for his words to register, and when she realised exactly what he meant she felt a strange, burning fury—and a renewed sense of rebellion.

How could she bear to be trapped on board with such a powerfully attractive man as this—especially when he had made his contempt for her so apparent? Expected to cook and clear up after him like a servant! Heart now pounding with anticipation of what she was about to do, Kat gave him one final glare of defiance.

‘Maybe you’re used to paying for sex!’ she retorted, and had the brief satisfaction of seeing his lips tighten in anger. ‘And maybe you’re used to calling all the shots. But not this time. I won’t be kept prisoner here by you, Señor Guerrero!’

Without warning, she ran across the salon and out onto the deck, tearing off her espadrilles before scrambling up the side of the guard-rail. At least it was as wide as a small ledge. Wide enough to dive from.

For a few seconds, Kat experienced a moment of wild exhilaration as she stared down into the dark sapphire of the sea, before taking a deep, deep breath. And then, with the sound of Carlos Guerrero’s furious shouts ringing in her ears, she plunged into the blue water beneath.

Chapter Three (#u4313abb2-4404-5503-bea5-78ce834669b6)

THE shock of impact and the cold temporarily winded her, but Kat was a good swimmer—when she’d lived in Sri Lanka, she’d spent so much time in the water that they used to call her Little Fish. But the trouble was that swimming in pools or striking out from a beach was quite different to swimming in deep sea like this, and it took only minutes for the enormity of what she’d done to sink in. Her limbs felt heavy and weighted—the denim shorts seeming to weigh a ton—and it occurred to her that she had drunk two glasses of wine and that her judgement may have been blunted. But still she kept striking out—and it seemed more as if she was lashing out against life, and fate. Hot tears of fury mingled with the salt of the sea on her face, until she realised that she was in danger of getting completely exhausted, and so she began to tread water.

Turning on her back, she could see that the Corazón Frío had stopped, and that a little boat had been lowered and was heading her way—but before it could reach her, something else did. Or rather, someone. A streamlined body which was powering its way through the water towards her and which suddenly emerged from the depths like some golden-wet colossus.

Sleek black hair plastered to his skull, Carlos reached out and caught hold of her, his face contorted with fury. But the relief he felt at having located her was overwhelming and it washed over him in a great wave. The little fool. The stupid little fool.

‘Let me—’ uselessly, Kat wriggled against the formidable strength of his body ‘—go!’

His mouth was close to her wet ear as he trod water, her breasts flattened against his chest as his hands tightened around her waist and held her closer. ‘You are not going anywhere, querida,’ he gasped. ‘You will stay right here until the tender reaches us—or you’ll have us both damned well drowned!’

The awful thing was that for the first time in her life Kat felt safe. Truly and properly safe. His arms were so strong and powerful and his hold on her so firm that she felt as if nothing or no one could hurt her just as long as this man was holding her. And how crazy was that—in view of the circumstances? If she could place her trust and her confidence in a man who clearly despised her, then surely that really did mean her judgement was terminally flawed.

‘Damn you,’ she whispered shakily.

‘No, damn you,’ he shot back furiously. ‘I was warned that you liked running away—but nobody told me you’d be a liability!’

The boat reached them, with Mike at the helm, and Kat was helped aboard—acutely aware that the flat of Carlos’s palm was shoving firmly on one sodden denimcovered buttock from behind. Then he levered himself up and into the boat and helped to sit her down. His feet were bare, the black jeans were soaking and the white silk shirt now clung to his chest like a second skin—the fabric so fine that she could see the whorls of black hair through it. Suddenly, Kat felt quite weak as he crouched down beside her, placing one hand at the small of her back to help support her.

A pair of stony black eyes were levelled at her. ‘Don’t ever try pulling a stunt like that again,’ he warned softly. ‘Understand?’

Kat was aware that Mike had his back to them as he steered the little boat towards the yacht. Was he diplomatically pretending not to listen, or would it even make any difference if he was? If she started screaming hysterically like one of those women in an old black-and-white movie, was it likely that Mike would turn round to the ‘boss’ he clearly revered and demand that he return her to shore immediately? No, it was not.

Which meant she was stuck here. Stuck with the only man she’d ever felt a physical connection towards—and still did, if she was honest. Even when she was physically and mentally exhausted.

‘Understand?’ repeated Carlos.

Staring into eyes which were as emotionless as rock itself, Kat swallowed down the salt taste of the sea. ‘Do I have any choice?’ she questioned bitterly.

‘No, querida, you do not—other than to work your way on this voyage and prove that you can do it. To stand on your own two feet for once…if you think you can.’ Black eyes challenged her. ‘After that, you can walk away and we need never set eyes on each other again.’

The aftermath of all the emotion suddenly hit her like a roller coaster, along with a dull aching which had now begun to gather at the front of her forehead, and Kat began to shiver uncontrollably.

Carlos frowned, but the arm which was still at her slender back tightened by a fraction. Her face was white—almost translucent—and her lips were turning a faintly blue colour. Y por Dios—but she suddenly looked fragile. Like a little doll who might snap in two.

‘Hurry up!’ he snapped at Mike as the small craft moved alongside the larger vessel. ‘She’s freezing!’

Kat was vaguely aware of being lifted onto the deck of the Corazón Frío and aware too that Carlos had curtly dismissed Mike and the rest of the crew who had appeared to help.

And then, to her astonishment, he picked her up as if he picked up full-grown women every day of the week, and carried her along one of the wood-lined corridors to some sort of cabin. But it wasn’t the same poky little cabin which Mike had taken her to earlier.

Dazed by shock and the sensation of being held within his strong arms, she looked around at the unfamiliar luxurious surroundings. ‘Th-this isn’t m-my c-cabin,’ she protested, her teeth chattering uncontrollably as he set her down. Her eyes widened as her heart began an erratic pounding. ‘It’s n-not yours, is it?’

‘Mine?’ Carlos gave a forbidding smile as he set her back down on her feet. ‘Please don’t overestimate your appeal, querida. I don’t take idle little rich girls to my bed.’

His cruel words should have hurt but Kat was now feeling so numb that she could barely move, let alone protest at his rudeness. Disconcertingly, he had started tugging at her top and she could feel the sudden heat of his hand against her frozen skin.

‘W-what do you think you’re doing?’ she breathed.

‘What the hell does it look like?’ he demanded, but his voice sounded distorted and he hated the sudden urgent escalation of his heart. Damn her, he thought—and damn her sleek and inviting body! ‘I’m getting you out of these wet clothes before I have to cable ashore for a doctor.’