The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin

Chapter Nine

IT HADN’T, but it was now!

Fleur struggled to maintain at least the illusion of composure as inside she dissolved. Through her lashes she could see the dark colour running along the angles of Antonio’s chiselled cheekbones. The glitter in his heavy-lidded eyes drew a fractured sigh from her parted lips.

‘I was thinking about the other night when we…’

Fleur shook her head. ‘There’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know,’ she promised him.

‘You have been thinking of it too.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Not even a little bit.’ Sometimes lies were not only justified, they were essential. ‘I hate to break it to you, Antonio, but one kiss is really very much like another. You know what your problem is—’

‘My kissing technique needs polish?’

Of course, he could sound smug—anyone who kissed like an angel, the fallen variety, could afford to sound so confident. Suddenly Fleur was so mad with him she wanted to hit him. Instead she clenched her hands and tucked them behind her back.

‘Your problem is your priorities. We were talking about Tamara. While you carry on preventing her seeing this man she’s going to resent you and I for one don’t blame her.’

Antonio hissed something that sounded angry under his breath and dragged a hand through the gleaming strands of his dark hair.

Fleur was dismayed to recognise that her reaction to the lessening of screaming sexual tension in the air was ambiguous.

‘Do you imagine,’ he demanded, rounding on her with a furious scowl, ‘that this is a situation of my choosing?’

‘Aren’t you the one who’s just been preaching on about taking responsibility for your own actions?’ she countered crossly. ‘I think what you’ve done is positively inhuman.’

‘You’re a sanctimonious little…’ The rest of his sentence was completed in rapid, angry Spanish.

Well, at least he’s not thinking about kissing me anymore. Throttling, possibly, she mused, responding to his hostile glare with a smile that visibly raised his aggravation levels.

Antonio took a deep breath and held his hands in front of him, his long fingers extended as he revealed in a flat monotone that obviously masked strong feelings, ‘Charles Finch, the man Miranda married before Tamara was born, has made it very clear he does not want to see Tamara. So there it is,’ he said, snapping his fingers and pacing restlessly as far as the edge of the paved area.

Fleur, her brow furrowed, watched him walk back. ‘I don’t understand—?’

A nerve in his strong jaw clenched as he cut across her. ‘He wants no contact with Tamara at all. How much clearer can I make it?’ His voice grim, he elaborated. ‘Finch arrived at my office, told me that Miranda was dead and I had a daughter who was waiting for me in the car. And, before you ask, no, I did not misunderstand his motives. No, he was not giving us time to get to know one another. I say this because I know that you like to imagine everyone, with the exception of myself, has virtuous motives.’

Fleur blinked and went pale; she just couldn’t imagine anyone doing something so…so…vicious. ‘Seriously…?’

Though there was absolutely no trace of emotion in Antonio’s face, she never doubted that inside he must feel…well, actually, she didn’t have a clue. How, she reflected, could you possibly imagine what it would feel like to learn that the love of your life had died and you had fathered a child who was now thirteen in the space of a few minutes?

She had no doubt that Antonio Rochas had nerves of steel and reserves that lesser mortals could only dream of, but coping with all that must have been a big ask even for him!

‘Well, it’s hardly something I would joke about, is it?’

Fleur felt angry on Tamara’s behalf. Antonio might have his faults, but he had to be an improvement on someone like that. ‘But that’s so cruel—what an awful man!’ she exclaimed. ‘He doesn’t deserve a daughter like Tamara.’ She lifted her eyes and saw that Antonio was watching her with a strange expression.

‘Do you think I’m an improvement?’ he asked.

Fleur thought, You’re an improvement on perfect, and flushed. Out loud she admitted gruffly, ‘I suppose you have potential.’

His eyes not leaving hers, he inclined his sable head in acknowledgement to her gruff concession.

‘Have you told Tamara?’

‘What purpose would that serve?’ he wanted to know.

‘Well, she might not hate you so much.’

Antonio looked at the narrow section of smooth midriff exposed by the skimpy tee shirt she wore and wondered if her skin was as warm and silky as it looked. ‘She needs someone to hate and,’ he added with a shrug, ‘I can take it.’

‘Because you’re such a tough macho man,’ she taunted gently.

‘Because I am her father, and I wasn’t there when I should have been. I think that Tamara is a little too fragile…emotionally speaking…for the unvarnished truth just now.’

‘So you’ll play the bad guy?’

A wolfish grin split his lean face. ‘I am the bad guy, haven’t you heard?’ He was surprised to hear himself add, ‘Come with us to London for the afternoon.’

‘Why?’

Good question. ‘The women I know don’t need a reason to shop.’

‘I’m not the women you know.’

Something moved at the back of his eyes, but before she could put a name to the elusive emotion it was gone and he was smiling, not with his mouth, but with his eyes. It was a disturbing smile that made her already erratic heart rate quicken.

‘No, you’re not, are you?’

It was hard to decide from his enigmatic tone whether this was a good thing from his point of view or not.

‘You want a reason?’

She nodded, thinking that with some things there was no reason. I mean, what reason could there be for her to fall for a man who was only ever going to break her heart?

My God, we don’t even live in the same world!

‘Well, you’ve seen us together. You have to admit an umpire would be a good thing.’

‘And here was me thinking you liked the idea of my company.’

Her sarcastic smile guttered as his eyes met hers in a long disturbing stare. Tearing her eyes free of the level blue gaze a moment later than she should have left Fleur feeling slightly breathless. Slightly? No, actually a lot breathless.

She patted the head of the dog who had wandered sleepily out to see what was going on.

‘Hello, boy,’ Antonio said, clicking his fingers. The dog, his tail wagging, trotted obediently over. ‘Sorry I couldn’t deliver him personally as I promised,’ he said, patting the animal’s head. ‘I was called away unexpectedly.’

He had been about to leave when his sister had rung to say her youngest had been rushed into hospital with suspected appendicitis. She had three other children to care for, and with their mother on a world cruise and her husband in New York it had been time to call in a favour.

Sophia always had had perfect timing.

‘Were you?’ Fleur said, doing everything but yawn to silently signal her total lack of interest.

‘Will you come?’

‘So that you two won’t have to talk to each other? I don’t think so.’

‘I’m not a woman.’

This comment brought Fleur’s eyes back to his face. ‘I’d noticed.’

Their eyes locked and suddenly the air was crackling with tension and alive with possibilities. The sort of possibilities that made her pulse rate quicken.

‘And you are a woman.’

The tactile quality in his voice sent a shocking jolt of desire through her body. Fleur tensed and stepped backwards, her shoulder blades pressing into the door-frame.

‘And Tamara might prefer a woman to shop with.’

Fleur, her expression schooled into blandness, stuck out her chin, determined not to let him see how his presence got to her even though she suspected it was way too late for such caution. Antonio Rochas had probably been born knowing the effect he had on women.

‘I can’t imagine that lingerie counters make you blush.’ She licked her dry lips.

The action caught his attention. ‘Do I make you nervous?’

She tried to sound amused as she retorted, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘You want to know what I would like?’ The abrupt question had a driven quality.

Her throat thick with emotions she was reluctant to put a name to, Fleur shook her head. Antonio took a strand of pale hair that had fallen across her face, his expression distracted as he smoothed it back from her brow. Holding her wide eyes, he set one hand on the wall above her head. Her heart thudded as he leaned forward, his big body curving over her.

‘But I think you know…and you would like it too, I think?’ The insolent half-smile that lifted one corner of his fascinating mouth did not touch his eyes. They were bluer than the brightest summer sky. Blue, hot and hungry; it made her dizzy just to look at them.

Somehow Fleur forced the words past the limp in her aching throat. ‘I think you should go.’

‘I think so too,’ he agreed, showing no sign of doing so.

‘Well?’ She raised a brow, but instead of achieving irony her smile managed to come across as a victim of blind, relentless lust, which was nothing but the truth.

‘Have you any idea what it does to me to see you tremble just thinking about me touching you?’ He appeared to expect no reply, which was just as well because Fleur’s vocal cords were paralysed.

‘Shall I tell you?’ Antonio asked, touching a finger to the narrow band of midriff exposed where her tee shirt had ridden up.

Fleur gasped at the electric shock that sizzled all the way to her toes. She went to slap his hand away, but somehow she ended up holding on to his wrist. She expelled her breath on a shuddering sigh as his flexed fingers spread across her warm flesh.

Under his fingertips he could feel the contraction of the fine muscles just under the surface of her smooth belly. He watched as her delicate eyelids closed and pinkness washed over her skin until it glowed rosily.

He was stunned by how responsive she was to his lightest touch. His eyes darkened as his level of arousal hiked up several more painful notches.

Breathing in short, choppy bursts, she forced her eyes open. ‘You can’t do this…we can’t do this…’

‘Why not?’ he asked, cupping the back of her head in his hand.

‘Because your daughter might see us.’

The prospect did not appear to dampen his enthusiasm—at least it felt that way to Fleur as he placed a hand in the small of her back and pulled her hard up against him. ‘That,’ he said, fixing her with a hungry, burning stare, ‘is what you do to me.’

Fleur managed to access the part of her brain that hadn’t turned to mush and mumbled weakly, ‘Tamara…’

‘It would be more educational for her to catch us kissing than a sex-education lecture.’

‘This isn’t kissing!’

No sex-education lecture in the galaxy could have prepared me for an encounter with this man, Fleur thought, moaning softly as the hard imprint of his erection ground suggestively into her belly.

‘It might also traumatise her for life. No child likes to think their parent is sexually active.’

‘Sexually active? Not recently,’ he muttered under his breath as he lowered his head to kiss her.

About an inch from making contact she turned her head. ‘Please, Antonio…’ she begged.

Torn between frustration and concern because she was visibly shaking, Antonio stepped back. The hand he raised to drag the hair back from his brow was not quite steady.

Swallowing, Fleur lifted her eyes to his. The skin was pulled tight across the planes of his hard-boned face, suggesting a tension that was echoed in the unnatural rigidity of his lean body.

‘Right, this isn’t the time.’

‘There is never going to be a right time. Or place.’

‘Any place would suit me.’

The earthy admission made her shaky knees almost fold.

‘Are you going to come with us?’ he asked.

Fleur shook her head. ‘I think you and Tamara need some time alone.’

‘We have had some time alone.’ He sketched a mirthless smile.

‘And on any of those occasions, you stupid man, did you tell her that you care?’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said you’re a stupid man, which you are.’ Fleur spelt it out because for a man with a mind like a steel trap he could be extremely dense. ‘Tamara thinks you don’t care and you so obviously do. Would it kill you to tell her?’ she asked him.

‘Obviously I care.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! Don’t get on your high horse with me. The point that you seem to be missing—’

His lips quivered. ‘Because I am a stupid man?’

‘It isn’t obvious to her, Antonio.’ She caught his arm, her eyes widening fractionally as she felt the extreme tension in his muscles. In an urgent undertone, she added, ‘She won’t know you want her unless you tell her. Go on…’ she urged.

Had he stood there looking so shocked on any other occasion she might have laughed. ‘I thought you were supposed to be good at everything?’ she taunted gently.

‘So did I.’ His expressive mouth twisted into a self-derisory smile and Fleur’s fingers tightened on his arm. ‘Meeting you has taught me otherwise.’

Fleur saw he was staring at her fingers curled around his sleeve and self-consciously let her hand fall clear.

‘I have missed so much.’

‘Missed?’

‘Tamara growing up…I have no memories.’

The husky explanation made her eyes fill. ‘It doesn’t mean you can’t build some memories.’

She saw him look startled by the suggestion, and then thoughtful.

‘Sandy and I were just going for a walk.’

Fleur rattled the lead that was conveniently in her pocket and the dog appeared bang on cue at her side.

‘But feel free to use my cottage if you want to talk—a neutral territory, sort of thing. Help yourself to tea and biscuits,’ she added cheerily as she started to walk away.

She had gone only a dozen steps when Antonio’s hand landed on her shoulder.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘You and Tamara need some time alone…’ Releasing an exasperated sigh, she twisted back and focused her frustrated frown on his face. ‘You don’t need me there. You two need to talk. Not later or tomorrow—you need to talk now. Just leave the key under the mat when you leave.’

His darkened eyes moved across her face, and just when she thought she couldn’t withstand the searching, soulstripping scrutiny a second longer without pleading guilty to something—actually anything—Antonio smiled.

‘You really are an unusual woman,’ he observed.

‘Yes, I’m unique…so go talk to your daughter.’ She looked pointedly at the hand that still lay heavily on her shoulder. Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip possessively.

‘Looks like we’re not going to make it to London and tomorrow I have to be in Paris, just for the day.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said, wondering where he was going with this.

‘But the next day, would you like to have dinner with me?’

Fleur’s eyes widened. Obviously she was going to refuse, but it was rather nice to be asked.

‘Well, it’s nice of you to ask, but I’m…What would you do if I said no?’

‘I would report your vicious dog to the appropriate authorities,’ he said, deadpan.

Her lips quivered. ‘Then this is blackmail?’

‘If it makes you say yes, definitely.’

‘Then I have no choice. What time will you pick me up?’

‘Seven?’

‘Seven-thirty.’

The last thing she saw before she turned away was the look of male triumph on his face.

‘Sandy,’ she told the animal at her side, ‘I am an idiot.’ Having established her insanity, she looked into the liquid canine eyes and asked, ‘But what do you think I should wear? It’s not good to overdress. I’m thinking sexy but not tarty and…Oh, God,’ she sighed. ‘I really am an idiot.’

Chapter Ten

THE next day Fleur got back from work around five. Opening the garden gate, she wandered up the path, pausing to pick a bunch of thyme to add to the casserole she planned to make later. She was sniffing the fragrant sprigs when she saw the figure sitting on her doorstep.

‘Are you running away again or were you just passing?’

The girl grinned and got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. ‘I was out for a walk.’

‘With or without your father’s permission?’

‘I told Antonio I was going for a walk. He’s not home today. He’s gone to Paris or something.’

Fleur smiled and turned the key in the lock. His name made her think of the outfit laid out on her bed upstairs. After a great many twirls in front of the mirror she had finally decided on the midnight-blue velvet with the scalloped neckline that hinted at her cleavage and made her hips look frankly too good to be true.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked as Sandy exploded from the hallway all wagging tail and frantic barking. ‘Be careful,’ she cautioned. ‘He licks.’

Tamara, who was stroking the excitable animal, nodded. ‘I’ve been trying to ring my dad, the other one, but every time…’ She stopped and, taking a deep breath, looked at Fleur. ‘He doesn’t want me anymore, does he? It’s not Antonio stopping him? Look, Fleur, if you know, I need you to tell me…I’m not a kid…I have a right.’

‘You should ask your father…Antonio. It’s not my place…’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried?’ she asked, following Fleur inside the cottage. ‘Have you any idea how good he is at not answering a question?’

Fleur flicked the switch on the electric kettle and turned back to her youthful guest. ‘What has happened to make you think…?’

‘That dear Dad isn’t waging a legal battle to get me back?’ the girl inserted, shrugging. ‘I was exploring yesterday and I found all my stuff from home boxed up…absolutely everything, and I mean everything. Baby photos, the lot.’

‘I expect he thought you might need your things…that you’d feel more comfortable with them around you,’ Fleur suggested lamely.