His Brother's Son. Jennifer Taylor
Читать онлайн книгу.
Ah, yes, beating about the bush. I can see no point in us beating about the bush. Sí?’
‘Who said that I wanted anything?’ She walked a little way across the grass then turned to face him. ‘I might have come here purely and simply because I wanted to meet you.’
‘You might, but I don’t think so.’ Felipe folded his arms and studied her closely, knowing that all the contempt he felt must be clear to see in his sherry-brown eyes.
She was beautiful, all right, with that silky, pale hair, those delicate features, that air of innocence, but he wasn’t fool enough to be taken in. Rebecca Williams was a cold-hearted, mercenary gold-digger, and it broke his heart to know that his brother had fallen into her clutches when he’d been at his most vulnerable.
Anger burned hotly inside him but he’d learned a long time ago how to use it to its best effect. He continued to study her, watching the play of emotions that crossed her face before her head suddenly bowed. When she spoke this time her voice echoed with a pain that sounded almost real—if he’d been foolish enough to believe that a woman like her was capable of any genuine emotions.
‘You hate me, don’t you? I can hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes.’
She suddenly looked up and Felipe felt his stomach clench when he saw the bewilderment in her beautiful grey eyes. ‘Why? I don’t understand why you should feel like that. I’ve never done anything to hurt you. We hadn’t even met until today. So why do you…you loathe me like this?’
‘Why do you think, Miss Williams? The answer isn’t all that difficult, surely?’
He closed his mind to the swift stab of guilt that had speared through him. Rebecca Williams was a consummate actress. She must be if she’d managed to fool Antonio for all that time. How long had it been that she and his brother had lived together?
He was rather hazy about the details because it had been a while before Antonio had written to tell him the address where he was staying in England, and even then all he’d said in the letter had been that he’d met someone and that they were living together in London. Felipe hadn’t heard from him again for many months, not until after Antonio had signed himself out of hospital after refusing further treatment. By the time that letter had reached him, his brother had been dead.
‘Because of Antonio, you mean? But why? I don’t understand. I never did anything to harm your brother. All I ever wanted was to help him!’
He pushed the memory to the back of his mind because he couldn’t deal with it right then. Rebecca Williams was staring at him, and if he’d been gullible enough he might have believed that she really was as shocked as she was making herself out to be.
‘Really? How touching.’ He treated her to a contemptuous smile and saw her flinch. ‘So you had Antonio’s welfare at heart, did you?’
‘Of course! I don’t know why you need to ask me that. Everything I did was aimed purely and simply at making his life more…more bearable.’
Her voice broke and she looked away. Felipe’s hands clenched because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake her or hug her at that moment. She’d sounded so sincere and yet how could he believe a word she said when he had indisputable evidence to the contrary?
It shocked him that he should feel this strange mixture of emotions when the situation was so clear cut. He knew what she’d done so maybe it was time he let her know that rather than allow the situation to turn into a complete farce.
‘And the fact that you managed to greatly improve the quality of your own life was your reward for making my brother’s last few weeks on this earth bearable? Is that what you are saying, Miss Williams?’
‘I don’t know what you mean…’ she began, then suddenly stopped. He saw her take a deep breath that made her small breasts rise and fall beneath the soft cotton of her blue dress, but her voice sounded strangely thin when she continued, as though the accusation had sucked all the strength out of her. Maybe it was difficult to be forced to admit the truth, even for a woman like her.
‘You’re talking about Antonio’s will, aren’t you? And the fact that he left me all that money?’
Becky could feel the tremor that was working its way through her body but she made herself stand rigidly still. Felipe Valdez was watching her and the contempt in his eyes should have hurt or angered her, but in a funny sort of way she suddenly felt detached from what was happening. It was as though she had stepped outside herself and was watching the scene that was being played out in the sunlit grounds of the hospital.
There she stood in her best dress—the one she had chosen especially because she’d hoped it would make the right impression—and there was Felipe standing so tall and straight, his mouth curled into that arrogant smile which a moment ago had seemed to chill her soul.
She found herself wondering what would happen if she blinked—if she would open her eyes and find herself back in the flat in London, waking to the sound of Josh’s noisy shouts as he clamoured for her to lift him out of his cot…
She closed her eyes then opened them again, but the scene was just the same. The only difference was that Felipe was now speaking. It was an effort to make sense of what he was saying.
‘I see we have made a breakthrough at last. This reluctance to talk about money is so very English. But why pretend that it means nothing when we both know that it is the driving force behind so much that people do?’
He shrugged, his broad shoulders moving lightly beneath the fine wool of his dark grey suit. It was obviously expensive, Becky thought inconsequentially, because it fitted him to perfection, the jacket tailored to accommodate the width of his shoulders and chest, the trimness of his waist.
Her gaze swept lower, taking stock of the long trouser-clad legs, the polished black shoes on his feet. They were handmade, from the look of them, and cut from the softest leather—luxurious, costly. Felipe Valdez obviously saw no reason not to indulge himself and yet he’d seen fit to query what Antonio had done with his inheritance, to question whether his brother had had the right to spend it as he’d wished. Was that what all this antagonism was about—money?
Her eyes rose to his face and she made no attempt to hide her scorn. ‘Your brother knew exactly what he wanted to do with his inheritance, Dr Valdez. It was his decision.’
‘And you’re prepared to swear that you didn’t try to influence him in any way? That you didn’t take advantage of the fact that he was sick? That you never, ever, thought to yourself how wonderful it would be to have all that money at your disposal?’
He laughed when she gasped, deliberately closing his mind to how shocked she looked because he didn’t want to have to consider whether or not he was hurting her. ‘Or that it would be so much better if Antonio died sooner rather than later so that you wouldn’t have to wait quite so long to get your hands on it?’
‘No! I can’t believe you’re saying such things. I never wanted Antonio’s money! I never tried to influence him to name me in his will. It was his decision, and his alone!’
Becky could feel the bile rushing into her throat and turned away when she realised that she was going to be sick. Stumbling to the flower-bed, she bent over and retched, but she’d had nothing to eat since the previous night so her stomach was mercifully empty.
‘Here.’
A tanned hand suddenly appeared, offering her a clean white handkerchief, but she shook her head. She wanted nothing from this man, nothing at all. What a fool she’d been to consider asking him for help. Hadn’t Antonio told her that everything had to be on Felipe’s terms, that he always had to be in control? Was she really prepared to run the risk of him taking charge of Josh, taking Josh away from her?
The thought steadied her and she stood up straight. Felipe Valdez was watching her and she saw the oddest expression cross his face before the mask of indifference slid back into place.
‘Are you feeling better?’