his toys …?’
She saw him with no clothes on, or she had in her erotic, shameful dreams. She closed her eyes and groaned. ‘Oh, just call the police. I’ll go quietly.’ Sitting in a police cell had to be preferable to enduring his company.
‘Don’t worry, I am not going to call the police.’
She choked on her relieved sigh when he tacked on, ‘I’ll sack the groom. It was his responsibility and rules are rules.’
Her horrified blue eyes flew to his face. ‘You wouldn’t …’ She stopped as she encountered an ironic look.
‘And with my word being law and my reputation as a despot being at stake I need to make an example of someone,’ he delivered straight-faced.
‘Very funny. Oh, God, I’m going to be ill again.’
‘THERE’S no point waiting.’
The decision made, Santiago slid an assessing glance towards the woman who was now sitting with her back propped against a tree trunk looking very much like a wilting exotic flower. The last bout of vomiting had left her very weak.
Admiration was something he had never imagined he would feel about Lucy, but, you had to hand it to her, she did not complain.
She might be putting on a brave front but, guts or not, there was no way in the world she could make it under her own steam … but with his support she could sit in the saddle in front of him and they could be back at the castillo in a matter of minutes. They would be now if he hadn’t assumed that help was on its way.
Santiago turned, clicking his fingers as he did so to bring the horse to him … only there wasn’t a horse to bring. Ramon’s gelding was nowhere in sight.
The expression on his face when he realised that the horse had wandered away would have made her laugh on any other occasion.
He swore softly under his breath.
‘We’ve both lost a horse.’
His withering gaze swung her way. ‘Thank you for pointing that out. It is most helpful.’
Head tilted to one side, he fixed her with a narrow-eyed assessing glance until Lucy, feeling increasingly self-conscious by his unblinking regard, snapped crankily. ‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘I was just considering the options …’
Presuming he was about to share the details, she was taken totally by surprise by the abruptness of the action that followed his terse explanation. Lucy was so shocked that she offered no resistance when he almost casually lifted her into his arms—just a scream.
A moment later she managed a breathless, indignant, ‘What are you doing?’ Other than displaying strength that Lucy—who was not by anyone’s standards a small woman—struggled hard not to find impressive. However, she had never had a single fantasy about being rescued and swept into the strong arms of a man—any man.
Especially not this man!
‘Not wasting further time hanging around.’ For assistance that seemed to be taking a long time coming.
Or asking permission before treating her like a sack of coal, she mused, giving a second shrill yelp as he moved, striding across the open ground towards the forest trail.
Lucy stared at his ear and held herself stiff, noticing the way his hair curled around it into the nape of his neck … strong neck. It was mid-morning but she could see the beginning of stubble on his jaw and cheek. It would feel … She paused mid-thought and gasped.
‘I don’t want to know!’
‘Know what?’
Lucy’s eyes fell away guiltily. ‘Know how long it will be before you drop me.’ Pleased with her quick recovery, she lifted her gaze just as he loosened his grip for a split second but enough to make her react instinctively out of self-preservation.
She grabbed him, one hand sliding under his unfastened jacket, the other around his neck.
‘Breathing would be nice.’
There was an embarrassing delay before her brain, busy processing details like the warmth and lithe hardness of the warm male body she was crushed up against, reacted to his dry comment.
‘Very funny,’ she drawled, loosening her grip but not all the way—he was almost jogging now and the next time it might not be a joke. ‘Will you put me down? This is ridiculous.’ Almost as ridiculous as her reaction to a bit of muscle.
‘Look, I’d love to argue the toss with you, but frankly I need all my breath. You’re a lot heavier than you look.’ Her weight was not the problem, but the soft yielding nature of the warm body that seemed to fit naturally into his was. Lucy Fitzgerald was not a woman who had sharp angles; she was not a woman that a man could be close to and not think about naked.
It was an image that Santiago, whose normal iron control when it came to such matters was at that moment absent, struggled to erase. In fact, he was struggling to think beyond the surge of hormones that made him want to lay her down on the warm mossy ground and … The sound of his harsh inhalation was drowned out by Lucy’s indignant gasp.
‘Are you calling me fat?’
The growl of desire growing low in his throat turned into an amused snort as, appreciating the irony, he quirked his lips into a twisted smile. He had called her many things that were worse, but it was the suggestion that she was overweight that rattled her.
‘I may not be a skinny—’
A stone too heavy, according to the man from Hollywood who, at the height of her notoriety, had dangled the female lead in a new film with the proviso she lose that stone. It had clearly not even crossed his mind, or for that matter her jubilant agent’s, that Lucy would say thanks but no thanks to the chance of being the love interest to one of the industry’s most bankable stars.
‘Sorry, but I can’t act,’ she had said to soften her refusal.
This, it had turned out, was not an obstacle and her ability to look good in very little apparently more than compensated for this minor deficiency. The scandal attached to her name had apparently been deemed box-office gold.
‘But I’m not about to starve myself so men like you can feel macho hauling me around.’
‘Dios mio!’ He stopped dead and angled an astonished stare at her indignant face.
As their eyes connected the amused exasperation in his expression vanished, as did any temptation to defend himself against the accusation.
In his arms Lucy could feel his chest lifting as though standing there were putting more stress on his heart than jogging along had; her own heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest cavity.
She told herself it was her weakened state that made her tremble, unable to admit even to herself it was being the
