The Spaniard's Untouched Bride. Maisey Yates
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might fall in love with you, as well.”
He laughed at that. “I suppose that is a possibility, given that I am replete with charm. However, I have never gone up to my bedroom to find one of my male employees naked in residence.”
Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh.”
“Indeed.”
She was starting to feel dizzy, and she let her head fall back to the arm of the settee, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The room was beginning to swirl around her. A confection of gold, blue and white.
“Cam,” Matías said. “Stay with me.”
She jerked upward. “Stay with you?”
She was feeling confused again. The differences between Cam and Camilla beginning to seem fuzzy. The reason for him asking her to stay becoming ambiguous in her mind.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he said.
She blinked. Of course. Of course that was what he was asking her to do. He wasn’t asking her to stay with him. As in...to stay in the house. As in, to be Camilla with him.
He didn’t know who she was. And frankly, she didn’t know who he was.
It had been much easier when he was nothing more than the faceless villain who had purchased her father’s horses. Who had taken advantage of the state of the rancho, and of her father’s debts.
He did not seem like a villain now. He was kind. And he cared about the horses. Also, surprisingly, he seemed to care whether or not she died. Though he had made it pretty clear that it was an investigation he wanted to avoid. But perhaps, he also cared whether or not she was dead.
It was strangely warming.
But then, that perhaps could also be the head injury.
Suddenly, the doors opened and the doctor and Juan came into the room. She was caught up in a flurry of being checked over, examined. But thank God, it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to go to a hospital. The doctor looked into her eyes and deemed them clear.
And then he ushered Juan and Matías from the room. The older man looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes.
“Your name?”
“Cam,” she responded.
“Age?”
She looked away. “Fourteen.”
“Have you any parents?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth?” The older man looked at her with eyes that were far too piercing, far too knowing.
She shook her head, her throat growing dry. “That is as much of the truth as I can tell you.”
“I must tell you,” the doctor said. “I care a great deal for Matías. I treated him when he was a boy. When that father of his would injure him, give him a black eye, I was the one the staff would call to care for him, and I care for him still. I will not have him taken advantage of.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of him,” she said.
“I believe you. I’m not sure why. Only that I spend a great deal of my time taking care of people. Looking at people. That is the only reason your ruse has worked so far. People like Matías... They train themselves to never look at anyone too closely. But that is what I do. Examine people.”
“My head is all right?” she asked.
“Yes. Though I recommend you do not sleep outside. And that you don’t work out in the sun for a few days. I will speak to Matías about this.”
When the old doctor left the room her stomach twisted. What if he was lying? What if he was going to betray her? Tell her secret? Clearly, he had recognized that she was a woman and not a boy. He had no actual reason to trust her, no matter what he said. Except for some reason she also had a feeling that he would not lie when the truth would serve just as easily.
Because he’d had no reason to placate her. None at all. He could have raised the alarm immediately when he had realized that she was a woman, but instead he had sent Matías and Juan from the room.
Still, she picked at her fingernails, twisted her fingers, nerves overtaking her as she waited.
Matías came back in, his expression dark, stormy. “The doctor has recommended that I set up a room for you inside the house, at least for the next couple of nights. To make you more comfortable, and to ensure that you aren’t by yourself.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling guilty now. Because this was becoming more than simply taking care of the horses. This was becoming something more.
He was extending hospitality to her now, and she was lying to him.
But it wasn’t to hurt him. It wasn’t to take advantage of him. It was for Fuego.
Yes, for Fuego, but also for her own damaged heart. Because she had lost so much, and she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of not having the horses, too.
She discovered fairly quickly that, in fact, a great many members of Matías’s household staff were women.
She looked quizzically at the elderly woman who led her to the bedroom. “He told me he didn’t hire women,” she commented.
“He does not hire young women,” she replied. “Particularly not to work with the horses. He is rarely home, but he is often out at the stables when he’s here. So, those are the people he interacts with most often.” She shook her head. “He had quite a few girls make appalling fools of themselves for him some years ago.”
Camilla took some sense of relief in that assurance as she put on the sweats that had been brought to her from her quarters. At least she hadn’t engaged in this ruse because of a false rumor.
That would have been truly untenable.
But she wasn’t going to concern herself with that. Not now. She settled herself into the bed—the softest thing she had felt against her skin in months—and tried to stay awake, simply because she felt comfortable, truly comfortable, in the way she had grown up for the first time in so long she wanted to bask in it.
But she couldn’t stay awake. And eventually, she gave in and let sleep pull her under.
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