Their Convenient Marriage. Mary Lyons
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always lays on one of her friends in the village to come in and clean when she’s away. And since her friend is apt to sing hymns at the top of her voice, early in the morning, I’ve given you a bedroom suite in the far wing of the house,’ Gina told him, adding casually, ‘As far away from the main block and the other bedrooms as possible.’
‘I see. All is explained,’ he murmured enigmatically, leaving her to worry about whether she’d been too obvious as he came over to sit down on the stone bench beside her. ‘But it must be a problem having no cook in the kitchen?’
‘Nonsense!’ Gina laughed nervously, wishing that he had chosen to sit on one of the comfortable garden chairs instead. Unfortunately, there was no getting away from the fact that she was finding the close proximity of this man distinctly disturbing.
‘I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal,’ she told him briskly. ‘Good wine and good food are natural partners. Which is why I spent a year doing a cordon bleu course in Paris, when I left school. However, since I didn’t have much warning of your arrival today, I’ve booked a table for dinner at one of the local restaurants,’ she added, before rising to her feet and suggesting that he might like to be shown to his room.
Luckily, the situation wasn’t proving to be nearly so awkward as she had feared, Gina told herself some hours later, as she leaned back in her chair, gazing around the crowded restaurant.
In fact, he appeared to approve of her very plain, black silk sleeveless dress, and the simple row of pearls which had belonged to her mother. And apart from a slight altercation when Antonio had adamantly insisted on them leaving the house in his car—‘I have never allowed myself to be driven by a woman—and I have no intention of doing so now!’—he was proving to be the perfect guest.
He’d also been charmed by the sight of the ivy-covered restaurant situated at the end of a narrow country lane, nodding with satisfaction when they’d been shown to a secluded table in the beautifully decorated dining room. Which clearly gave them some degree of privacy, and the opportunity of holding a conversation without being deafened by the chattering noise of the other diners.
‘I’d forgotten that it can be quite so noisy at times,’ she’d murmured apologetically, but he’d brushed her words aside.
‘That, my dear Gina, is merely the sign of a good restaurant,’ he’d told her, before turning his attention to the wine list.
Fortunately he’d approved of the wine list—always a tricky point when taking those in the trade out to dinner!—and there’d been some considerable discussion with the attentive head waiter over exactly what to drink with their choice of cold watercress soup and chicken in a tarragon sauce.
Not only had the wine and food proved to be delicious, but she’d found herself gradually relaxing and enjoying Antonio’s company: laughing at his wry, amusing description of the total chaos he’d discovered in the Bodega when taking over the reins of the family company from his uncle Emilio. ‘I’m not saying that the invoices were still being written with a quill pen.’ He’d grinned. ‘But the ancient telephone switchboard had clearly not been changed since the days of Alexander Graham Bell!’
And, of course, she’d been delighted to hear the up-to-date news of her old friend—his younger sister, Roxana, whom she’d met when the Spanish girl had spent a year at school in London to brush up her English.
Drawn together by the fact that they were both orphans—Roxana’s parents having also been killed in a car accident when she was only a small child—they’d not only become firm friends, but had spent long holidays at each other’s homes. Which was precisely how she’d first come to meet Antonio, Gina reminded herself, before quickly making a determined effort to banish the past from her mind.
‘She was always an amusing girl, no?’ Antonio had said with a broad smile, before explaining that his young sister, to the surprise of the whole family, had suddenly decided to take up a career in show business and was now appearing in one of the daily soap operas on Spanish television.
‘Good heavens!’ Gina had exclaimed, her smile widening when he’d informed her that those were exactly the same words used by his elderly grandmother on first seeing Roxana on TV. She’d been really pleased to hear that his old grandmother, Señora Ramirez, of whom she had fond memories, was still very much alive and ruling the roost at the family home in Jerez—where, it seemed, Antonio was also now based, since taking over the company.
Indeed, from what Antonio had said, it seemed as if he was going to have his work cut out, trying to drag the family wine business into the twenty-first century. And, thinking about some of the problems which he’d outlined, such as the need to make sure all his aged relatives continued receiving a reasonable income, Gina suddenly realised that it couldn’t have been much fun suddenly finding himself pitchforked into taking on the family responsibilities.
‘Do you have any regrets about having been forced to give up your career in the law?’ she’d asked. ‘The life of a wine maker in Jerez must be very different to that of a hot-shot lawyer in Madrid.’
‘I always knew that I would have to, at some point in my life, take over the family business, but my uncle was always very much of an autocrat,’ Antonio had said, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Which was why I decided to carve out a career of my own, until such time as my uncle Emilio decided to hand over the reins. And it would seem that you, too, are likely to be faced with very much the same sort of situation, if and when your grandfather decides to retire,’ he’d added with a smile.
However, she’d merely given a slight shrug of her own, before determinedly changing the subject by asking him his opinion of last year’s wines from the famous Rioja region in the north of Spain.
Despite doing her best to try and keep all conversation to their mutual business interest, Gina had found it increasingly difficult to harden her heart against his warm, obvious charm.
She must be careful, she warned herself now, as she leaned back in her seat to allow the waiter to clear away their plates. Not only did Antonio seem to have bowled over the restaurant’s staff with his engagingly friendly smile, but she was also clearly vulnerable. And she knew, only too well, just how this formidable man’s dark, almost irresistible attraction could affect her fragile emotions.
So, keep it light…light and friendly, she lectured herself sternly. Because, the last, the very last thing she wanted was any discussion about their past relationship.
Although to be fair to Antonio, she reminded herself, by the time he was driving them back home to Bradgate Manor, he’d made absolutely no reference to what had happened between them years ago.
‘It has been a very pleasant evening, Gina,’ he said, as he brought the car to a halt outside her home. He got out of the car and came around to open the passenger door. ‘Quite surprisingly so, in fact,’ he added, putting a hand on her arm as they walked towards the front door.
‘Oh…er…really?’ she muttered breathlessly, inwardly cursing her fumbling fingers, which seemed all over the place as she awkwardly tried to fit the key into the lock.
‘Here—let me do that for you,’ he said, his lips twitching with laughter, taking the keys from her hand and swiftly unlocking the door.
‘Yes…’ he continued as they entered the hall. ‘I must admit to having felt some qualms about meeting you again, after all these years. It might have been just…well, shall we say that it might have been just a little awkward?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she retorted, furious with herself for sounding so pathetically feeble, but not feeling capable of coping with this increasingly difficult situation.
‘Ah, Gina! Did you really forget all about me?’ he murmured, his tall figure standing close beside her now, at the foot of the staircase. ‘I am very sorry to hear that I meant so little to you.’
Forget him? I should have been so lucky!
‘No, well…the fact