isn’t a long drive,’ Sir Robert had assured him. ‘So why not allow me to show you around the cellars here, in Pall Mall, hmm? We have some very old cases of vintage wines which I think you might find interesting.’
Since the two families had been trading closely together for well over a hundred and fifty years, it had seemed discourteous to refuse the invitation. And that, as he now acknowledged grimly, had proved to be a major error on his part. Because after the tour of the wine cellars he’d found himself being pressured into joining Sir Robert for lunch.
‘No…no, I can’t possibly let you go without giving you something to eat,’ the old man had insisted. ‘And I’ve been looking forward to hearing all about my old friend Emilio. I was really so very sorry to hear about your uncle’s illness.’
Finding himself boxed into a corner, Antonio hadn’t seen that he’d had any choice but to accept the invitation. And with Sir Robert’s servants moving like snails around the huge dining room of the large, private house in Pall Mall—taking hours to serve a very long, ridiculously grand meal—it had gradually become clear that he hadn’t a hope of reaching Brandon’s office in Suffolk before it had closed for the day.
If he’d had any sense, he should have written off that valuable consignment of sherry—high-tailing it back to Spain as quickly as possible. In fact, he had nearly called the whole thing off when Sir Robert had casually let fall the information that his granddaughter was currently managing the branch office in Ipswich.
‘Gina’s a clever girl,’ the old man had continued. ‘Only relation of mine still alive. So it seems a good way of giving her some experience of running things, before she takes over the business when I’m gone.’
Which was the first intimation he’d had that this trip to England might definitely prove to be a major mistake, Antonio told himself edgily, not at all sure how he felt about finding himself suddenly pitch-forked into dealing with a girl whom he hadn’t seen for eight years.
And the subsequent conversation about the elderly man’s frail health certainly hadn’t improved matters either.
Swearing under his breath, Antonio drummed his fingers irritably on the driving wheel, trying to think what he was going to do about what appeared to be an increasingly tricky situation.
Because, of course, he had no problem recalling Gina Brandon, or the events of that weekend all those years ago when his family and their guests had attended the spring fiesta in Seville.
He hadn’t forgotten how they’d avoided the rest of the party, determined to spend the day together. Nor her desperate terror as she’d tried to control a frisky young horse, when she’d clearly had neither the skills nor the experience to do so. Or the young girl’s shy, enchanting smile and the long, pale blond hair swirling enticingly about her slim body as they’d become caught up in the hot-blooded, fiery Sevillanas—the traditional dance of Andalusia.
And then, surprising in its clarity, he suddenly recalled that ride in the early hours of the morning, through the empty and deserted streets of Seville. The ghostly sound of the horses’ hooves over the cobbles. And the moonlight, flooding in through the carriage window, which had thrown dark, mysterious shadows over the high cheekbones of the girl’s heart-shaped face, causing her to look far older than her years. Which had been the only excuse he could find when recollecting with bitter shame his subsequent behaviour.
Forget it! That was all a very long time ago, he reminded himself grimly. In fact, there was every chance that she, at least, would have completely forgotten all about the unfortunate episode.
In any case, he had every intention of confining all conversation to the subject of business. Or that of the wine trade. And first thing tomorrow morning he’d locate his missing shipment and fly back to Spain—as quickly as possible.
Satisfied now that he’d come to a decision, Antonio realised, after a quick glance at the map, that he was nearing his destination. And only a few minutes later he caught sight of a large pair of wrought-iron gates bearing a sign: Bradgate Manor.
Travelling slowly down the long winding driveway, edged by tall oak trees, Antonio eventually brought his vehicle to a halt outside the front door of a large house.
Stepping out of the car, he stretched his tall, rangy body, clothed in a short-sleeved, open-necked black shirt and black trousers, before turning to gaze at the classical Tudor building.
The large diamond-paned windows were sparkling in the late-afternoon sun, which also cast long shadows over the old brickwork and heavy oak beams, the wide porch covered with rambling roses in shades of red and pink.
It seemed incredibly still and quiet as he made his way to the front door. In fact, other than the noise of his shoes crunching over the gravel, he could hear nothing except the rustle of a light breeze through the leaves of nearby trees.
Slightly surprised to find the front door wide open, Antonio rang the bell several times without gaining any response. However, after hesitating for some moments, he stepped inside, feeling slightly foolish as he called out to the unseen occupants. But, other than the sound of his own voice echoing in the large oak-beamed hall, the large house remained totally silent.
Perplexed, he walked slowly across the grey flagstones towards a large door—which was also wide open—on the far side of the hall. This, as he discovered, opened out on to stone steps leading down to a wide terrace running the length of the house. Standing on the steps, he had an excellent view of the wide green lawn and its surrounding parkland.
Beginning to wonder if he had somehow wandered into an earthbound version of the Marie Celeste, Antonio suddenly caught sight of a horse and rider, galloping swiftly across the park towards the house.
Raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, now lying low in the sky as it slipped down over the horizon, he gradually realised two salient facts. Not only was the horse a huge, strong animal, but it gave every appearance of having the bit firmly between its teeth and bolting out of control. While the rider—clearly a female, if that long blonde hair was anything to go by—looked as if she was in trouble. In fact, as far as he could see, she seemed to be clinging helplessly to the horse’s mane.
Without another moment’s thought, Antonio ran down the stone steps and raced across the lawn, before quickly vaulting over the wooden fence edging the park. Realising that he must try and stop the horse from attempting to jump the fence—with possibly grave consequences for its rider—he ran with arms outstretched towards the large animal.
The next few, brief seconds seemed to pass by in slow motion, as Antonio’s action appeared to disconcert the huge beast. Thundering to a halt, it reared up before the strange man, its eyes rolling wildly, thick specks of white foam billowing from its mouth.
Leaping up to catch hold of the reins, and hanging on to them for dear life as the horse reared up again, its huge hooves beating in the air, he gradually managed to bring the animal under control. And it was only when he was murmuring soothing words, and gently stroking the horse’s neck, that he had the opportunity to pay some attention to its rider.
Her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, she raised a hand to brush the long, tangled cloud of pale blonde hair from her face. And then, her blue eyes widening with shock and confusion, he could almost see the blood visibly draining from her pale cheeks.
‘Hola, Gina!’ he drawled, smiling up at the girl who appeared to be totally dumbfounded by his sudden appearance, stunned into silence and continuing to stare down at him as if he was a ghost.
‘It
