Spaniard's Seduction / Cole's Red-Hot Pursuit: Spaniard's Seduction. Brenda Jackson
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do you do, Mr. Carreras.”
So she thought him a business associate. She had absolutely no idea. Rafaelo’s smile widened and his anger sharpened. “Ah, a handshake is so English. And I know we will be getting to know each other extremely well.” He stepped forward and brushed her cheeks with his in the European way. Over her shoulder he saw the horror…the despair…in Phillip Saxon’s eyes. He had the look of a man tied to the railway tracks in the face of the rush of an oncoming express—his tortured expression revealed that he knew the crash was inevitable, that he could do nothing except wait for the approaching disaster.
Good, the man was afraid. Phillip Saxon had sensed that he, Rafaelo, could destroy his privileged world, everything he held dear.
Then a movement forced his attention to Caitlyn. Her hand was outstretched. “If you’re going to get to know the Saxons well, then we’d better introduce ourselves, too. I’m—”
He ignored the proffered hand, and her introduction trailed away into silence. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned forward. She smelled of wildflowers, soft and subtle.
“Encantado de conocerte.” Very happy to meet you. His lips brushed one cheek, he heard her gasp. His head lifted. Deliberately he kissed her other cheek, no social brush, but a careful placing of his mouth against the pale, silken milk-and-honey skin. He paused for a moment before whispering in her ear, “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Ross.”
She pulled back, a startled expression on her face, a touch of fear in her eyes. “You know my name?”
She was too modest. Of course he knew her name. Rising star. Winner, two years ago, of a silver medal at the World Wine Challenge. And last year she and Saxon had secured a coveted gold medal. His mouth curved. “You’d be surprised by how much I know.”
He heard Phillip’s indrawn breath.
The fear subsided and her eyes sparkled with anger. “Perhaps you don’t know as much as you think, Mr. Carreras. It’s Ms. Ross.”
“Ah,” he said softly, eyes narrowing at her attempt to hold him at a distance with icy formality. “I should’ve known.” And he watched the fresh annoyance flare in those pale, clear eyes.
He preferred her anger to her fear. For a split second he wondered what she was afraid of—because she couldn’t know why he was here. Then Saxon shifted and he moved his attention back to the man he’d come across the world to find.
“Caitlyn, Kay, perhaps it is better that I speak to Mr. Carreras alone.” Saxon sounded anxious.
A frown pleated Kay’s forehead. “But why should that be necessary?”
“There may be things that your husband hasn’t told you, Mrs. Saxon.” The address held a certain irony that only Rafaelo was aware of.
She waved a dismissive hand. “My husband tells me everything.”
“Perhaps not.” Rafaelo’s mouth slashed upward.
“You’re impertinent.”
It was not Kay Saxon who spoke. Rafaelo turned his attention on the blonde. If anyone was impertinent, it was her. He was the Marques de Las Carreras. All his life the family name had commanded respect. Until now…
“Be careful,” he murmured.
“Or what?” Caitlyn challenged. “What are you threatening to do? This is Saxon property, there is security—” She gestured toward a burly man in a dark uniform.
“Caitlyn.” Phillip put a hand on her arm.
But with her protective instincts roused, she would not be stopped. “Call Pita. He can’t just walk into Saxon’s Folly and threaten you, Phillip.”
Rafaelo stared at her. “I am not threatening anyone. I will not be evicted. But I am certain that that he—” Rafaelo couldn’t bring himself to address the man directly “—would prefer to talk alone.”
Phillip released her. “Caitlyn, perhaps he is right.”
“I would like to hear what this man has to say, what he thinks you might not have told me.” Kay Saxon dug her Ferragamo-clad heels into the ground. “Caitlyn is right—he is impertinent.”
Anger ignited deep in Rafaelo’s heart. All the inconveniences of the past two days flamed high, and the pain and rage he’d been keeping under tight control for the past months burst into a blinding conflagration.
He raised an arched, black eyebrow. “It is impertinent to travel all the way to New Zealand to meet my father?”
Phillip dropped his head forward into his hands and uttered a hoarse groan.
“Your father?” Caitlyn looked bewildered. “What does that have to do with—”
Rafaelo glared at her. “It has nothing to do with you—it is a family matter. But trust me, Phillip Saxon is my father.”
Two
Trust him?
Never! Caitlyn drew a shaking breath but kept quiet. Lashing out at the arrogant Spaniard wouldn’t help the fact that she’d exposed Kay to a dreadful revelation.
If she hadn’t pushed him, challenged him, the outcome might have been very different…
“What did you say your name was?” Kay was asking Rafaelo, her face suddenly pale.
“Rafaelo Carreras.”
Slowly Kay started to shake her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“He’s lying,” Caitlyn said fiercely, determined not to let Kay be upset. She had enough to contend with already.
“Kay—”
“Wait.” Kay warded off Phillip’s attempt to talk to her. “Carreras, it’s Spanish, isn’t it?”
Caitlyn didn’t like the sudden gleam in Kay’s eyes. Nor, it appeared, did Phillip.
“Kay, love, let’s go. There are people waiting to pay their respects.” Phillip curled an arm around his wife’s shoulders, the skin stretched thin across his cheekbones.
But Kay didn’t budge.
Rafaelo placed his hands on his hips, and thrust his shoulders forward. He looked ready for battle. “Madam, my full name is Rafaelo Lopez y Carreras.”
“Lopez? There was a girl…a young woman…” Kay’s brow pleated as her voice trailed away. “I think her name was Maria Lopez. In fact, I’m sure of it. She was researching her family…I seem to remember that her father, or perhaps an uncle, had died in the Napier earthquake. Yes, that’s right. It’s coming back to me. Her name was Maria.”
“My mother’s name is Maria,” Rafaelo said in a flat voice, his eyes shooting daggers at Phillip.
Eyes widening, Kay put her hand over her mouth and, shrugging out from under his arm, turned to her husband. “Tell me this isn’t true.”
Caitlyn’s stomach dropped like a stone at the expression in Kay’s eyes. She clenched her hands into fists. Surely, Kay couldn’t believe what Rafaelo claimed was true?
Phillip took a large white handkerchief from his pocket and, without unfolding it, rubbed it across his brow.
“You are not going to deny it, are you?” Kay’s face had drawn into tight lines. She turned her attention back to Rafaelo, studying him with critical eyes. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
Kay was not telling Rafaelo to get lost.
“That’s the same age as Roland.” Kay paused and sucked in an audible breath. “When were you born?”
Rafaelo told her.
Hurt