The Gold Collection: Bedded By A Billionaire. Kim Lawrence
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was the place he had leased to the English academic who had started up, of all things, a donkey sanctuary.
It would be difficult to imagine two women with less in common, so ruling out that left—what …? Could she have been waiting for someone? In that lonely spot … no … unless … she had been meeting someone and they had required privacy?
By the time the horse had reached the castillo gates the conviction that he had stumbled onto a lovers’ tryst, that she had been waiting for his half-brother, had become a firm conviction.
His brother was not behaving rationally. Santiago saw those electric-blue eyes in his head and he felt his anger towards his sibling subside. He doubted Ramon was the only man unable to act rationally around Lucy Fitzgerald, who was unable to see past her smouldering sexuality, the only man willing to ignore the truth in order to possess that body, but fortunately for Ramon he was not one of them.
Did she think she had won?
Beneath him Santana responded to the light kick of encouragement and broke into a gallop; to catch a thief one had to adopt the same ruthless methods they did.
Literally shaking with fury, Lucy made the last stage of her journey in record time. She paused at the finca door to compose herself. As satisfying as it would have been to vent her feelings on the subject of Santiago Silva, the last thing her friend needed right now was the news that her house guest had had a run in with him.
Harriet would feel obligated to defend her and she could not see that going down well with her feudal despot of a landlord, who would, she thought scornfully, quite likely feel perfectly justified evicting anyone who disagreed with him. He was just the type of small-minded bully who enjoyed wielding the power he had inherited!
No, the best thing all around, she realised, was not to mention the incident at all—and why should she? He had no idea that she was staying with Harriet and so long as she stayed out of his way and she didn’t darken his doorstep with her presence—a treat she felt happy to miss out on—unless fate was very unkind she would never have to set eyes on the wretched man again.
Taking comfort from the knowledge, she took a deep breath, pasted on a smile and patted her cheeks. Her eyes widened as she felt the dampness there. God, Santiago Silva had achieved what a media army had failed to do—he had made her cry.
Harriet, normally uncomfortably observant, had not noticed the tear stains, which suggested that her white-faced friend was suffering a lot more than the mild discomfort she claimed after literally hopping out to the stables during Lucy’s absence to check on an elderly donkey.
Lucy banned Harriet from attempting any more stunts and hustled her back to bed for a nap. The other woman looked so much better when she rose later that midway through the next morning Lucy suggested another nap and the older woman did not resist the idea.
Lucy decided to use the time to take hay to animals in the scrubby lower pasture. As she walked through the field buzzing with bees and chirruping crickets she became aware of a distant noise disturbing the quiet. As she distributed the feed to the animals who clustered around her the noise got perceptibly closer until … Lucy started and the animals ran at the sound of a loud crash followed by a silence that seemed horribly ominous.
Recovering her wits, Lucy dropped the hay she was holding and ran in the opposite direction to the agitated braying herd. Seconds later, panting, she reached the rise of the slight incline that hid the dirt track below from view and saw the cause of the explosive sound.
Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, God!’
One of the modern four-wheel quad bikes was lying at an angle, the front end in a ditch and the back wheels hidden beneath a tangle of scrub that the vehicle had dragged up as it slid off the stony path.
A quick scan revealed no immediate sign of the driver. Had he been thrown clear?
There was no time to speculate. Lucy hit the ground running, scrambling down the rocky incline and raising a cloud of dust from the dry ground. She reached the accident in a matter of seconds, though it felt like a lifetime. There was still no sign of the driver and she couldn’t hear anything, but then it was difficult to hear anything above the thundering of her heart in her ears, even her own fearful cry of—
‘Is there anyone …? Are you all right?’
‘No, I’m not all right. I’m …’ A flood of tearful-sounding Spanish preceded a small grunt that was followed by a deep sigh before the young voice added in flawless, barely accented English, ‘I’m stuck. Give me a pull, will you?’
Lucy saw the small hand—a child’s—appear from beneath the upturned quad bike. She dropped to her knees, her hair brushing the ground as she bent her head to peer underneath. The driver appeared to be a dark-haired young girl.
‘It’s probably not a good idea to move until—’
‘I’ve already moved. I’m not hurt. It’s just my jacket is caught—’ The girl gave a small yelp followed by a heartfelt ‘Finally!’ as she dragged herself out from under the quad bike, emerging beside Lucy looking dusty, in one piece and with nothing but a bloody scrape on the cheek of her heart-shaped face to show for her experience—at least nothing else visible. Lucy remained cautious as the girl, who looked to be around ten or eleven, pulled herself into a sitting position and began to laugh.
‘Wow!’ Her eyes shone with exhilaration, a reaction that made Lucy think, God, I’m getting old. But then, though she’d had her share of her own youthful misadventures, they had had less to do with her being an adrenaline junkie and more to do with her need to please her father and compete with the legendary exploits of her elder siblings.
‘That was quite something.’
‘I’d call it a lucky escape.’ Lucy got to her feet and held out her hand. ‘Look, there’s no reception here but I really think you should see a doctor to get checked out.’
The girl sprang to her feet energetically, ignoring the extended hand. ‘No, I’m fine, I’m …’ She stopped, the animation draining from her face as the condition of the overturned vehicle seemed to hit her for the first time. ‘Is there any way we could get this back on the road, do you think?’
Lucy shook her head in response to the wistful question. ‘I doubt it. I think you should sit down …?’ Before you fall down, she thought, studying the young girl’s pale face.
‘Oh, I am in so much trouble. When my dad sees this he’ll hit the ceiling. I’m not really meant to ride on this thing … but then I’m not really meant to do anything that is any fun. Do you know what it feels like to have someone act as though you can’t even fasten your own shoelace?’
Lucy’s lips twitched. ‘No, I don’t.’ If she’d had a penny for every time her dad had said, ‘Don’t whinge, Lucy, just get on with it,’ she would have been able to retire before she hit ten.
‘That’s why I’m home now, because my dad dragged me away from school. Not that I care. I hate school—he’s the one who’s always saying how important education is.’
Lucy, who thought so, too, adopted a sympathetic expression as the girl paused for breath, but didn’t interrupt as the youthful driver continued in the same if-I-don’t-get-it-off-my-chest-now-I’ll-explode style.
‘And Amelie didn’t even have it!’
‘Have what?’ Lucy, struggling to keep up, asked.
‘Meningitis.’
Lucy’s brows went up. ‘Your school friend has meningitis?’
‘No, she doesn’t have it, I just said so, and she’s not my friend. I have no friends.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘It’s true, and with a father like mine is it any wonder? He wouldn’t let me go on the skiing trip and everyone was going and now, after the head told all the parents that there is no cause for concern,