Housekeeper at His Command: The Spaniard's Virgin Housekeeper / His Pregnant Housekeeper / The Maid and the Millionaire. Caroline Anderson
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Because just possibly there was something entirely different going on here. Suppose kissing her had been part of his plan? That he’d had to really steel himself to do it, and hadn’t been able to bring himself to repeat it?
That possible scenario had occurred to her in the small hours of the night, waking her from a dream she’d been having of the first time he’d taken her hands in his.
He’d been apologising for thinking the worst of her, explaining that he had just that morning spoken to her former employer and had the truth from him regarding what had happened, confirming that she’d been blameless.
And all the time she’d been under the impression that he’d believed her side of the story when she’d recounted it much earlier. That impression had been strengthened when he’d immediately started to treat her like a human being—even to the extent of inviting her to accompany him to Madrid for a short holiday. So why, obviously still convinced that she was out to wriggle herself into Miguel’s affections, to make herself indispensable and get her hands on his money, had he stopped calling her vile names, threatening her, and started being nice to her?
Her lush mouth wobbled now, as the only viable and most distressing answer that had presented itself in the small hours claimed residential status in her mind.
Miguel’s wealth. Which Cayo would inherit. Provided the elderly man didn’t marry, or leave it to a sneaky little gold-digger.
To make sure that didn’t happen Cayo would have put himself up as a sort of well-heeled diversion, that would make the calculating heart of a career gold-digger beat faster and swiftly change allegiance.
He’d gritted his enviably strong white teeth, taken her hands in his, and acted as if he cared about her. Even kissed her silly to make her think he was more than a little attracted to her. And all the while not trusting her an inch—even though he’d claimed to have had the truth of her innocence from the horse’s mouth.
He wouldn’t believe in her innocence if the Angel Gabriel himself proclaimed it!
Despising herself for being so slow on the uptake, and falling for a man capable of such devious behaviour, she finally located the gaudy yellow and scarlet ball. She straightened, whistled for Benji, and threw it as far as she could over the tall grasses, watching as the puppy, yelping with excitement, scampered after it. And resolutely blinked the tears from her eyes.
‘She is exercising our puppy.’ Miguel laid aside the magnifying glass through which he’d been examining an illuminated manuscript and smiled as he answered his nephew’s query. ‘I believe she takes him beyond the immediate grounds and into the meadows, where he can run wild. You will find her if you look.’
He bit back a chuckle as he encountered the younger man’s stony gaze and added, with seeming innocence, ‘She will be pleased to see you. I believe she has missed you. She has been desanimada, without her usual sunny spirits.’
Deciding he’d said enough on that subject as Cayo’s expression darkened, he probed slyly, ‘Did you find alternative employment for my soon to be ex little companion?’
‘Nothing suitable.’ Cayo swung on his heels and exited, his strong, blue-shadowed jaw set at an uncompromising angle. Was his uncle trying to make him feel guilty?
He felt guilty enough without any input from him!
He had kissed her because he hadn’t been able to stop himself. His legendary cool had deserted him. His mind, normally as reliable as a calculating machine, had seriously malfunctioned.
Punching a balled fist into the open palm of his other hand, he left the castle by a rarely used side door, to avoid the interminable to-ings and fro-ings of his staff, and took a winding path that led towards the perimeter wall.
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