The Society Bride. Fiona Hood-Stewart
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himself distressingly prey to a sensual twisting tug. He must not, he realised, removing his eyes from her, lose track of reality here. He caught his father’s approving eye and quickly concentrated once more on the conversation.
But if his father thought that Nena’s astonishing beauty and charm might make the marriage any more acceptable he was wrong. Instead it somehow made it worse. It was one thing to do a poor dowdy creature a favour, another to place under his protection a paragon whom, when she found her feet, would be the toast of society in every city they visited. The thought was strangely disturbing and he banished it.
‘Ramon, I hope you have thought about your father’s and my proposition,’ Don Rodrigo said, easing himself with obvious difficulty in the wicker chair, reminding Ramon of just how much was at stake here. ‘After one look at my lovely granddaughter I’m sure you are aware how impossible it would be for me to allow her to go out alone and unchaperoned into the world.’
‘Well, I don’t altogether agree, no,’ Ramon countered. ‘After all, sir, we are in the twenty-first century. A well-selected board of trustees could easily take care of her affairs. She seems a confident young woman, quite able to look after herself,’ he added.
‘Ha!’ Don Rodrigo let out a harsh exclamation. ‘Much you know about it. Oh, she’s got confidence and charm and excellent manners, of course. But she would be swept off her feet by the first fortune-hunter that walked into her life. And, believe me, they’re already lining up,’ he said darkly.
‘That I can believe,’ Pedro Villalba replied, sending his son a meaningful look from under his thick silver brows.
‘And it’s not only my little Nena I’m concerned about,’ Don Pedro continued, meeting Ramon’s eyes with a look as steady as his own. ‘It’s the future of all I’ve built up over a lifetime. I have no intention for that to go to rack and ruin, frittered away by some spendthrift. Trustees, as you mentioned earlier, are all fine and dandy, but they will not direct her sentimental life, look after her as a woman needs looking after.’
‘Excuse me for being so bold,’ Ramon said, leaning forward, ‘but does Nena have any idea of what’s going on here?’
‘Up until now I deemed it preferable to stay silent. After all, I do not want her to be unduly upset. And when she learns of my illness,’ he said stifling a sigh, ‘she will be most upset.’
‘Of course.’ Ramon looked down. ‘Don Rodrigo, although I would be more than willing to accept a role in an advisory capacity, I don’t feel that—’
‘One moment, young man. I am aware that all this has been thrust upon you in a most impromptu manner. But will you not at least take the opportunity, now that you have come all this way, of getting to know my granddaughter a little better? I am not suggesting that the two of you fall in love, or anything of that nature, merely that together you establish a well-balanced relationship. Nena has been brought up in the strictest possible manner. She would make you a good wife.
‘Many marriages work out very well under these conditions,’ he added with a thin, tired smile. ‘I know that in this day and age you young people all believe in Hollywood-style relationships—marriage one day, divorce the next. But real life, my boy, is very different. Look rather at your parents, and at myself. Our marriages were planned, and they worked out brilliantly.’
‘That’s all very well,’ Ramon countered, but then, seeing the butler carrying a large silver tray piled with scones and sandwiches, he closed his mouth.
Nena rushed into the large marble bathroom of her suite of rooms and took a rapid shower, her mind filled with the incredibly good-looking son of her grandfather’s friends. She had been quite taken aback, but hoped that her surprise had not been in any way evident.
He was older, of course, and rather forbidding and arrogant-looking, with his thick black hair, straight Roman nose, high slashed cheekbones and chestnut golden-flecked eyes. A bit like an actor, she reflected, rubbing herself with a thick terry towel before stepping into the dressing room and choosing a short pink linen Gucci dress.
Minutes later she tripped down the stairs and joined the others. She sat in the only available chair, next to Ramon, determined not to let his intense masculine aura distract her as she proceeded to serve the tea. The next few minutes were occupied with handing round sandwiches, and it was only when she sat back down that she realised Ramon was looking at her rather fiercely.
She shifted uncomfortably and suppressed a desire to pull her skirt lower. A delicious shiver coursed through her. She’d heard of men looking at you and leaving you feeling undressed. Now she knew what it meant. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming. Perhaps she’d spilled something on her dress and that was why he was looking her over in that confident manner.
She glanced down, but there was nothing, and she felt cross with herself for allowing this man to leave her feeling both self-conscious and—something else that she couldn’t quite define. Shifting closer to his mother, she half turned her back on him and chit-chatted about this and that for a while, trying not to be aware of his eyes upon her.
‘You must come and see the garden properly,’ she said to Augusta. ‘I’ve had some new flowerbeds laid out near the lake, and the little wood over there is charming to walk in.’
‘Thank you, my love,’ Augusta replied with a gracious smile. ‘But I’m afraid I find walking a bit of a strain these days, particularly in the heat. But Ramon, I’m sure, would be delighted to see the garden.’
‘Oh, no. I don’t think you’d like it at all,’ Nena said hastily, turning towards him, embarrassed and biting her lip while hoping she hadn’t sounded too rude. She could hardly refuse to take him, but the last place she wanted to go was for a walk in his austere, rather autocratic company.
‘Yes, Nena, that’s a good idea,’ her grandfather insisted. ‘You take Ramon for a walk while we old folks chat.’ Don Rodrigo smiled approvingly.
Unwilling to distress her grandfather by refusing, Nena turned and glanced at Ramon. ‘If you like we can go,’ she said, her tone unenthusiastic, hoping he’d refuse.
‘Fine. Let’s go.’
Reluctantly she rose and began walking down towards the lake with Ramon close by her side. He was tall, she observed, at least six foot two or more, and his shoulders were broad. There was something powerful and engulfing in his presence, she realised, an authority about him that reminded her in a way of her grandfather. Now, as they walked, he slipped off his jacket and threw it casually over his shoulder while Nena wondered what on earth to say to him.
Soon they’d reached the lakeside, and Ramon still hadn’t made any effort at conversation—although Nena could feel his eyes boring into her. It was really most uncomfortable, especially since he was so close to her. She was catching whiffs of his musky after-shave—and something else indefinable, something she’d never experienced next to any man before.
‘Those are peonies and delphiniums,’ she blabbered, pointing out the flowers, ‘and over there are a number of dahlias. But I’m sure you’re not really interested in flowers,’ she added quickly, pressing her hands together and wondering why she felt so wound up and nervous when usually she was perfectly at ease with visitors.
‘You’re right,’ he replied, his face breaking into a sudden charming smile that lit up his face as he looked down at her. ‘I’m no expert on flowers. But my parents and your grandfather seemed pretty determined that we should come for a walk together, don’t you think?’ he asked, testing the terrain.
‘Yes.’ She frowned, looking up at him, puzzled. ‘They did, didn’t they? Do you have any idea why?’
Ramon wished he’d kept his mouth shut. For now he felt like a cad, as though he was deceiving this young woman by not telling her the truth. Yet how could he come clean when she had not the slightest idea that her grandfather was dying?
‘I suppose they thought that we are nearer in age and might find more to talk about on our own,’