Mistress of La Rioja

‘No. It was horrible little bits of unrecognisable food in plastic trays. And I wasn’t hungry.’

‘We will have dinner when we arrive.’

‘Surely it’s too late for dinner?’

‘But we eat very late in Spain, Sophie, did you not know that? Did you not know that the Spanish are more awake than anyone in Europe—and not only because they regard going to bed before three a.m. as a kind of personal dishonour?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve only ever been to Spain once, and that was for the weekend when Teodoro was baptised.’

‘Then you have missed very much.’ His voice had deepened now, was made almost kind with something which sounded like compassion. ‘I wish this time it could be under happier circumstances, querida. It is a pity that you will see little of my country before you return home.’

There was an expectant silence and Sophie ignored it.

But Luis did not. ‘By the way, you didn’t tell me how long you were going to be staying?’

‘No. No, I didn’t.’

‘And?’

She was glad of the darkness because the way he framed that single syllable was nothing short of intimidating.

‘I’m not sure.’ Until she had reached a position of trust which ensured that she would be able to fly Teo back to England for a short holiday to see his great-grandmother. But now was definitely not the time to tell him that.

And then she reminded herself that as his guest he was owed certain courtesies. ‘That is, I would like to stay for at least a few days, maybe longer, if that’s OK with you. I’d like to see a bit of Teo.’

Unseen, his eyes narrowed. No, it was not ‘OK with him.’ He did not want this woman in his home for a minute longer than necessary—for reasons which were both simple and highly complex. He wanted her, but he could never have her. Not now. Not ever.

‘Spaniards are famous for their hospitality, Sophie,’ he said softly. ‘And therefore my home is yours for as long as you wish it.’

Sophie nodded. Unless he made it impossible for her to remain, of course. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.

‘De nada,’ he answered.

The car swept up a gravelled drive, and through the broad canopy of strange trees Sophie saw the welcoming lights of the large hacienda.

He opened the door of the car and she thought that she caught the drift of oranges and lemons, the soft night air thick with the scent of exotic blooms. She gazed at the imposing building which looked as if it had been there for ever. There was a sense of beauty, and of history, which she found impossible to ignore, despite the heartbreaking circumstances which had brought her here.

And then she was caught in the ebony glitter of those beautiful, mocking eyes.

‘Welcome to my home, Sophie,’ he said softly.

CHAPTER THREE (#u613beb7f-7dda-5a24-8175-6f00e10d36b8)

THE interior of the hacienda was cool and spacious, and their arrival must have been heard, because as soon as Luis had taken Sophie’s jacket and put her suitcase down an elderly woman appeared from further down the hall. Her face creased into a warm smile as she looked up at Luis.

‘Buenas noches, Don Luis.’

Sophie saw his hard face briefly soften with affection as he bent to kiss the woman on both cheeks.

‘Buenas noches, Salvadora.’ He said something rapidly in Spanish, and then, reverting to slow and careful English, he spoke again. ‘Sophie, this is Salvadora, Teodoro’s ninera. Salvadora, this is Sophie Mills, Miranda’s cousin.’

‘Buenas noches,’ said Sophie politely, though her doubtful thoughts in the car were borne out by the woman’s appearance. She really looked far too frail to be in charge of a boy aged just over a year.

Salvadora’s expression was wary, Sophie thought. Her old eyes narrowed as she looked her up and down, but the wariness was replaced with a slight, formal bow.

‘Buenas noches, Señorita Mills,’ she replied slowly. ‘I regret very much the sudden death of your cousin.’

Sophie bit her lip. No tears, she told herself. They could wait for later. ‘Thank you.’ And then, with an almighty effort, she gave a trembling smile. ‘You speak very good English, Salvadora.’

Salvadora nodded in solemn acknowledgement. ‘Thank you. It was always so. Don Luis had an English tutor when he was a very little boy, and so I learnt the language, too!’

Sophie tried to imagine Luis as a little boy, learning English, but it wasn’t easy to picture him with the same soft, innocent face as his son.

‘And, of course, it is essential that any ninera of Teodoro understands the language of his mother,’ said a deep voice, butting into her thoughts, and Sophie turned to Luis, a question in her eyes.

‘Why?’

‘Because otherwise the two women would have been unable to communicate, wouldn’t they?’ he offered drily, seeing the look of genuine surprise on her face, and his mouth hardened. Did she imagine that he would wish to deny his son his English heritage? Did she think him some kind of devil, then?

Not for the first time, Sophie wondered why Miranda had bothered having anyone to help her with Teo at all. She hadn’t had a job outside the home, nor had much to do inside the home, judging from her phone calls. She remembered how delighted her cousin had been on discovering the true extent of Luis’s wealth and influence.

‘He’s not just gorgeous—he’s loaded, Sophie! Absolutely loaded!’

Sophie had frowned, wondering if the financial insecurities of her childhood were blinding Miranda to reality. ‘Yes, but money isn’t everything. Honestly it isn’t. As long as you’re happy, Miranda—that’s the most important thing.’

‘Oh, I’m happy, all right!’ Miranda had said. ‘Who wouldn’t be in my situation, with a man like Luis? And it’s so wonderful having servants, Sophie, I can’t tell you!’

Sophie hadn’t approved of Miranda’s attitude and approved of her own fleeting pang of jealousy even less. But she had said nothing. And even if she had, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Miranda had always been determined to fight tooth and nail for what she wanted, and she had wanted Luis.

And who in their right mind could blame her for that?

His deep voice broke into her thoughts.

‘Salvadora will show you to your room now, Sophie,’ said Luis, who was watching her very closely and wondering what had caused her to frown like that, caused the tiny goosebumps that made her slender arms look so cold and so vulnerable.

That piercing black look distracted her, but she forced herself to remember the main reason why she was here. ‘Can I…can I see Teodoro first? Please?’

He thought how pale she looked, and how tense— the faint shadows beneath her eyes making her lovely face look almost haunted. He shook his head decisively. ‘First you should eat something.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Sophie. You may shower and change first, should you wish, and then we will eat dinner.’

She wasn’t used to such dominance, or to letting a man call the shots like that, and she was just about to protest when some warning light which glittered so imperiously from the jet-dark eyes told her that her protests would land on deaf ears. She would see her nephew when he chose to let her!

And a whole meal to get through first. ‘You don’t have to bother with dinner,’ she said, unwilling to sit down alone with him. Suspecting that she would find it impossible to keep up pleasantries for an entire meal. Or to keep forbidden thoughts at bay. ‘I could always have a sandwich in my room.’

Luis’s eyes narrowed with irritation at her clumsy refusal of his hospitality. ‘It is inconceivable that a guest should travel all this way and not be offered sustenance. And besides, you have a long and difficult day ahead of you tomorrow. You will join me in the dining room.’