The Spaniard's Virgin Housekeeper
Guilt scored a line between winging black brows. True, he had lost count of the times he’d tried to persuade the elderly man to make his home at the castillo, where he could be well looked after. But after continuous polite refusal to take advantage of his nephew’s hospitality or to dismiss Benita, who’d been with him for years, Cayo had backed off, believing that every man had the right to live his life as he felt fit.
A mistake he deeply regretted.
One that wouldn’t be repeated. Liberal tolerance was now a thing of the past where his uncle’s wellbeing was concerned.
‘You work too hard,’ Miguel chided gently, finding Izzy in the kitchen ironing his shirts after rising from his siesta. ‘And, as Cayo pointed out, I pay you far too little.’ He shook his grey head, annoyed with himself. ‘I was unaware. I should think of things outside my narrow field of interest. I apologise. Cayo can be shortsighted and stubborn in some respects, I fear, but in this instance he is right. You must allow me to make amends. Will you tell me how excellent housekeepers should be financially rewarded? And by the same token tell me the modern-day cost of keeping a modest household such as ours running?’
Her soft mouth open, Izzy stared at her employer in shock. Not because he’d actually woken up to the fact that the cost of living had risen in the last twenty or so years, but because his brute of a nephew had actually pointed it out.
If he was so keen to rid his uncle of her contaminating presence, why had he asked what she was earning and given his opinion that it was far too little?
Unless, of course—her smooth brow furrowed—the information gained from his uncle had cemented his distrust of her into rock-hard certainty. He thought she was working for next to nothing because she had some ulterior motive, had something to gain. But what?
‘Well?’ Miguel broke gently into her puzzled train of thought just as Cayo sauntered into the room, giving her no time to assemble her wits and make a reply, or give her old gentleman information that would make him feel really uncomfortable and put him in a spot—because it was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to pay the going rate.
Suddenly the room seemed airless. Cayo’s formidable presence dominated the space with the unmistakable aura of the alpha male—born to lead, to take on all comers without batting an eyelid. For some unknown reason it made her feel decidedly dizzy, and she felt herself flush with some strange emotion she couldn’t put a name to. She turned away to take another shirt from the laundry basket, with the image of the way he looked—six foot plus of prime Spanish manhood, from the commanding width of his shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, slinky hips and impressively long, elegantly trousered legs—indelibly printed on her retina.
‘I have spoken at length with Dr Menendez, who gave me the results of the tests you underwent, Tio,’ he announced, his tone so authoritative she could have smacked him.
Wandering farther into the room, he absorbed the cosy domestic scene. Miguel in the battered old armchair that had stood just inside the door for as long as he could remember, watching the Angel of Mercy ironing his shirts.
She was working to a different agenda from the one she had employed with Augustin del Amo, for sure. A real Miss Goody-Two-Shoes—caring and competent, catering to an elderly man’s domestic comforts, delectable, with enticing strands of the spun-silver-gilt hair escaping the ribbon arrangement she’d pinned it back with. Her luscious curves were clad in a bog-standard T-shirt and cotton skirt, not overtly flaunting her steamy sexuality as her clothes would have done when she’d attempted to snare a rich banker, because those tactics wouldn’t work with the elderly scholar.
Clever.
But he was smarter. By a cartload he was smarter!
Kill two birds with one stone. First get Tio Miguel to agree to move to the luxurious Castillo de las Palomas, where he could continue his work and be looked after by attentive staff who would cater to his every need. Cayo would suggest he took his housekeeper with him as companion because, judging by what he’d seen and heard, his uncle was already fond of the little tramp. He felt comfortable with her, and in all likelihood would dig his heels in and refuse to go anywhere if it meant his housekeeper was to be cast out on the street.
Then he would seduce Izzy Makepeace away from her intention to get her claws into the older man—no hardship, because the sultry, passionate fullness of her lips belied the wide, childlike innocence of those big blue eyes, and he had never suffered difficulties in that direction. Quite the opposite. The ease with which he seemed to attract simpering females anxious to do anything to please him had bored him since his hormones had run riot in his teens.
He would seduce her, make sure his uncle knew what was happening, and then make sure she was well and truly finished with.
His mouth tightened. He didn’t like it. It felt uncomfortably like cruelty, and he had always prided himself on being straightforward in both personal and business dealings. But if he had to fight dirty he would. For his uncle’s sake, he would.
Swinging round to face them, he stated, ‘In view of what I learned from Menendez, I have a proposition to make.’
CHAPTER FOUR
IZZY folded the last of the shirts as a fierce stab of anxiety skittered its way through her entire body. This darkly handsome thoroughbred male looked as out of place in these shabby surroundings as a brilliant-cut diamond in a sack of potatoes. She was sure that whatever he proposed would bode no good for her. Cayo wanted her out of his uncle’s home, and he didn’t look the kind of guy who would give up easily.
‘Tio—’ Half sitting on the chunky table, he was addressing his relative.
Izzy, her ears tingling for the expected list of her supposed and damning sins, embellished with a strongly voiced suggestion that she be thrown back on the street where she belonged, permitted herself a tiny sigh of relief when he said gently, ‘Menendez tells me that your heart problem was occasioned by the rheumatic fever you had as a child. At the time, apparently, the condition went unrecognised. You can live with it, he assures me, provided you take care. Something you haven’t done for years—’
‘Ah, but things have changed,’ Miguel interrupted smartly. ‘Unlike poor old Benita, whose sins of omission escaped me, Izzy makes sure I am looked after splendidly! Provided she agrees to stay on—at an increased rate of payment—we will be very comfortable together. You mustn’t worry.’
‘But I do,’ Cayo countered firmly. ‘Have done for years. You are of my family—blood of my blood. I care about you and I worry,’ he incised, with a telling movement of one lean, bronzed hand. ‘I have asked before—not with as much vigour as I should have done, perhaps—and this time I will insist. You must move to the cooler air of the mountains, at least during the debilitating heat of the summer. And who knows? You might be sensible enough to make it your permanent home. At the Castillo de las Palomas you will enjoy every comfort and luxury. As you well know, there are willing staff to cater to your every need. And there is also an excellent library, so you may continue your work, if you wish, in guaranteed privacy and peace. As far as I can see there is nothing, apart from your pigheadedness, to stop you behaving sensibly and in your own best interests.’
Grateful for the absence—so far—of the verbal assault she’d been expecting, and amazed that her slating opinion had actually moved Cayo to doing something about his uncle’s wellbeing, Izzy held her breath.
She was unprepared for the elderly man’s stubbornness. Despite being obviously touched by his nephew’s offer, evidenced by the sudden moistness of his dark eyes, he declined. ‘I’m grateful for your concern, Cayo. Truly. But we are comfortable here, and you know how I dislike any kind of upheaval.’
Emboldened by the look Cayo turned to give her—his brows lifting in obvious frustration, his smile wry, as if they were on the same side for once—Izzy put in, ‘Can I say something? It sounds just what the doctor ordered, Miguel—honestly.’
Feeling Cayo’s gaze upon her, she met the flash of a very definite query in his spectacularly eloquent eyes and ignored it. That she would be jobless and homeless again didn’t count against the old gentleman being properly looked after. She’d manage somehow. Miguel would have no need of a housekeeper—not with Cayo’s ‘willing staff’—and if his uncle could be persuaded to make the move he would have won, got rid of her supposedly poisonous presence without the outlay of a single euro of the bribe he’d so insultingly offered her.
The thought of him winning made her want to stamp her feet and scream! Yet despite that she knew that urging Miguel to accept the offer was the right thing to do.
She’d risen to the challenge of her present job—warmed to the concept of being a real help, useful and valued for once in her life—but she’d always meant to leave when she was satisfied that her old gentleman would be looked after and not left alone to his own absent-minded devices.
She was stunned when the man who had vowed to make her regret the day she was born now imparted, with the silken confidence of one who knew a weak spot when he saw one and had no hesitation in going straight for it, ‘I know you better than you realise, Tio. In the past you have always refused my repeated offers because you have a kind heart—one of the gentlest and kindest, I know. To have availed yourself of comfortable surroundings and the best care would have meant dismissing Benita. So I suggest—urge—that you now bring Izzy with you, as your paid companion.’
Stunned by his suggestion, Izzy was left breathless when he turned again to her and gave her a smile of such dazzling brilliance that she came over all feverish. She could hardly believe what she was hearing as he continued, ‘That way you won’t be throwing her out of work and making her homeless, so your conscience won’t give you indigestion! And I will be more than happy to welcome her as a guest in my home.’
Her mouth made an O of sheer astonishment as she stared at his dark, strong and shatteringly sexy features, searching for clues to his totally out-of-character behaviour. Her jumbled brain cells barely registered Miguel’s amused reply. ‘In that case, I agree. My hardworking housekeeper deserves a summer break after all her kindness to a foolish old man.’
She only scrambled for her senses after Cayo’s elegantly long legs had carried him to the door, with the information that he was heading back to his apartment to await an expected fax from Hong Kong, but would be in touch later to make the necessary arrangements for their removal to his mountain home.
Closing her still gaping mouth, she watched him leave. He was up to something. Something devious. And that was scary. He’d offered her money to leave, called her names, and made it plain that he thought her a species of low-life—and yet here he was, actually smiling at her, saying he’d welcome her as a guest in his no-doubt palatial home. A castle, no less. It made no sense at all.
‘You’ve made the right decision,’ she told the older man. ‘From what your nephew said it sounds as if you’ll have every comfort and care, and he seems genuinely fond of you.’ She conceded this somewhat unwillingly, because she didn’t want to admit there was anything remotely human or caring about the guy—at least where she was concerned. ‘He’ll be glad to provide for you,’ she went on, ‘but count me out. I can’t go with you. You won’t need a housekeeper. I’d only be a freeloader. I’d rather earn an honest crust, and I’ll soon find another job, you’ll see,’ she ended, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
‘I understand,’ Miguel responded flatly. ‘But if that’s your decision I won’t go either. We’ll carry on as we are.’ His angular face softened in a smile. ‘In fact, now I come to think of it, I’m perfectly happy where I am.’
The penny dropped. Cayo must have foreseen this, she realised sinkingly. After all, he had to know his relative far better than she did. Hadn’t he intimated that the only reason the old gentleman hadn’t taken up his offer before had been because his uncle’s tender conscience wouldn’t have been easy if he’d made his previous housekeeper unemployed? Probably unemployable, judging by the state his humble little home had been in when Izzy had first set eyes on it.
In all probability Miguel would have confided in his nephew—told him of her own sorry circumstances when they’d first met—leading the younger man to realise that, having taken in a waif and stray, his gentle, soft-hearted uncle wasn’t about to throw her out on the street!
Hence the amazing suggestion that she tag along, too, until he thought up some spectacularly nasty way to get rid of her! It made perfect sense.
Nothing else for it in the circumstances. But she was confident that once her old gentleman got settled in comfortable surroundings, with three good meals a day produced like clockwork, and no more scrimping and scraping, he would accept a sudden bout of homesickness, or a fictitious job offer back in her own country. Her decision to leave would be made before Cayo had worked out how to get her thrown out of his aristocratic home and probably out of the country. So, ignoring her better judgement, she told him breezily, ‘If you insist on being stubborn then, okay—I’ll go along, too. I’ve never lived in a castle before—should be fun. When do we go? Did he say?’
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