Shock Marriage For The Powerful Spaniard. CATHY WILLIAMS
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or anything,’ Sofia muttered.
‘That’s a lie.’
‘What?’
‘You’re lying. You’re curious about me. I can see it on your face and hear it in your voice.’
‘You’re incredibly egotistic!’
‘I’m curious about you as well. You’re not travelling down a one-way street, Sofia...’
The suddenly charged silence that followed his remark stretched and stretched to breaking point. Rafael vaulted fluidly upright and proceeded to prowl through the kitchen, then he disappeared into the adjoining pantry to reappear with a bottle of wine. He raised both eyebrows at her horrified expression. ‘I’m sure your dictator employers won’t mind if we crack open this bottle of wine to make the time go quicker.’
‘You can’t!’ She released a long breath, confused and addled.
‘Are you going to stop me?’ He hunted down a corkscrew and a couple of crystal glasses and poured. He held out the glass and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sofia took it.
They hadn’t exactly locked the wine away but she’d known, without having to be told, that all alcohol was off-limits for her. She had never had a problem with that because she wasn’t much of a drinker, and she respected the boundaries they had laid down.
But that rebellious streak she hadn’t even known existed sparked into life again, filling her with a sense of wicked daring as she sipped some of the red wine.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rafael murmured, swirling his glass and breathing in the fragrant aroma for a few seconds, appreciating the quality of the grape. ‘I’ll make sure I replace it.’
‘If you plan on drinking any more of this stuff,’ Sofia grimaced, ‘Then you’re going to find that you’ve blown all your earnings before you’ve even done a day’s work in the garden! The Walters are very fussy when it comes to their wines. I have no idea how much this bottle cost but it won’t be cheap.’
‘Which is why you’re terrified of going near that wine fridge?’
‘Drinking isn’t appropriate when you’re looking after children.’
‘And, as you’ve said, you’re on call twenty-four hours a day, every day of the week...’ He strolled towards the huge double-fronted steel grey fridge and stared at drawings that had been attached by magnets to the front, oddly out of place in the vast, modern, clinically pristine surroundings. He un-tacked a photo and peered at it, then he looked at her.
‘This the family?’ He tilted his head to one side and Sofia knew that she was reddening. Her skin felt hot and prickly and there was a throbbing in her temples. Those dark, dark eyes of his were so intense, so penetrating.
‘Yes,’ she replied shortly.
‘Attractive couple. Attractive kids.’
‘Yes. They are.’
‘Younger than I’d imagined, if I’m honest.’
‘Why would you have imagined anything about them?’
‘Unlike you, I don’t pretend to be incurious. It’s natural to wonder about the sort of people you might be stuck with for a couple of weeks.’
‘You act as though you’re doing them a favour!’
‘The man...is very good-looking, wouldn’t you agree?’ Rafael murmured, glancing towards her, keeping his keen gaze pinned to her face.
Sofia tensed, her face tight, and just like that he replaced the photo from where it had been taken, seemingly losing all interest in the conversation.
In her.
Disappointment warred with relief. She looked at the glass of wine in her hand and wondered how she’d ended up straying from the straight and narrow.
‘So what’s keeping you here?’ he asked. ‘Aside from two kids and a pay packet at the end of the month.’
The question temporarily threw her and she looked at him with sudden bewilderment.
‘Isn’t that enough? We all have to earn a living. You’re here, earning a living.’ She cleared her throat, finished her wine and stood up, hot, bothered and so, so conscious of his eyes trained on her face. ‘Anyway, you should...be thinking about heading back to your lodge. You’ll be busy tomorrow.’ She stood up while he remained sitting where he was, long legs stretched out in front of him, lightly holding his glass of wine and idly twirling it before taking a sip.
‘Sit, why don’t you?’ He motioned to the chair and drawled with a ghost of a wry smile, ‘I promise that I’ll leave you in peace when this glass of wine is finished.’
Sofia thought of the empty evening stretching ahead of her and was ashamed to find herself wanting him to hang around. She’d always enjoyed her own company, especially since she’d been working here, because her time was so seldom her own. However, he’d sparked a curious restlessness inside her and the prospect of studying, which had been top of the agenda, seemed dull and boring.
Disobedient eyes slid across to him, to the lazy, ‘Lord of the Manor’ way he sat there, sprawled in the kitchen chair, dominating the space around him.
Fearless. What sort of gardener was he anyway?
She tried to picture him weeding, scrutinising bottles of fertiliser, mowing the lawn and talking to the plants but she couldn’t.
‘Is there someone significant lurking in the background, making all this drudgery worthwhile? He must be very understanding to put up with you being on call twenty-four-seven.’
‘Drudgery? Drudgery? Who do you think you are?’
‘Figure of speech,’ Rafael said unapologetically.
‘I resent that figure of speech!’
‘You’re very attractive but I don’t suppose I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.’
‘That doesn’t mean...it doesn’t mean...’ She was breathless and had to breathe in deeply to stop herself from shaking. ‘That there’s a significant anyone lurking in the background, and even if there was I fail to see what business it might be of yours!’
Rafael didn’t say anything for a few seconds and she found the silence oppressive, like a dense weight pushing down on her, making her want to justify herself.
She thought of her experiences with the opposite sex, the hungry eyes and groping hands that she had always had to bat away. She thought of being the object of a bet, mortified and humiliated at a time when she had been so open to handing over her heart to someone.
Was it any wonder that she felt safest when she was buried behind books, studying and dreaming about an uncomplicated future?
Other girls her age dreamt of guys, dating, engagements and getting married.
She dreamt of being able to take care of herself. When she thought about men, she vaguely had in her head someone unthreatening—dull, even. Someone who would be able to see past the sexy image that was so unlike the girl she was inside and appreciate her for the qualities that weren’t on show.
‘So no boyfriend?’
‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’ She abruptly got to her feet and made a beeline for the folder she had been given with all the detailed instructions for the gardener whom had been foisted upon the Walters.
‘And what about the master of the house?’ Rafael quizzed softly, feeling her out.
Sofia stiffened. It was barely noticeable but he noticed it.
‘What,’ Sofia asked coldly, ‘are you implying?’
‘Sometimes