the older woman looked at Lisa and spoke in heavily accented English. ‘I am happy that my son has found love, but it is strange, is it not, that both the Valdez sons have taken an English bride?’
Her voice was warm, friendly. She wasn’t merely making a comment, it was accepting Max, a way to bridge the gap between them. She didn’t have to do that. It must be the hardest thing to face the son of your husband’s mistress. Lisa smiled at her, but she could feel Max’s anger, feel him bristle with indignation. She didn’t need to look at him to know that.
‘I am not a Valdez.’ Max’s response was harsh and razor sharp.
Raul’s mother looked at him and continued in her accented English, obviously wanting Lisa to understand. ‘You may not like to admit it, but you are. More than you will ever know.’
‘I think not.’ The growled response was fierce, full of denial.
‘You are, Max. There is no doubt that you are Maximiliano’s son and it is far more than good looks which makes me say this.’ Raul’s mother looked into his eyes and Lisa could see her expression soften. This was a woman who didn’t blame him, didn’t hate him and was extending the hand of friendship. Maybe she knew he’d lost his mother as a teenager and all too soon after losing his father.
Further thoughts were cast aside as Max cursed in Spanish. ‘I have no wish to be like my father.’
Raul’s mother turned and looked back at her son and Lisa wondered how this was all really affecting her. Then she turned her attention back to Max and touched him gently on the arm. Max looked down at her hand, a stark contrast to charcoal grey of his suit. She saw Max swallow, as if he was trying to gulp down the pain of the past, and Lisa realised she knew very little of it—just as he knew very little of her.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke in a hushed tone, but still in English. ‘There is no denying you are his son, just as there is no denying you are Raul’s brother. Don’t run from the truth, Max, face it. Own it. Make it your friend, not your enemy.’
Lisa frowned. What was this woman talking about?
‘Thank you for your advice, signora. I will give it some thought, but right now my wife and I need to leave.’
‘We do?’ Lisa sensed there was more to this conversation if only he’d participate in it, but she also knew Max and pushing him to do anything he didn’t want to do was useless.
He put his arm around Lisa in a show of affection she knew wasn’t real, pulling her close, and that instant spark of heat surged through her, much to her annoyance. ‘We are returning to England for Christmas.’
‘How romantic.’ Raul’s mother smiled at her. ‘It looks like you don’t need my advice after all.’
Lisa hid her confusion behind a bright smile of her own. What was he talking about? Christmas in England? With Max?
* * *
Max looked at Raul’s mother, questioning if the genuine warmth in her voice and soft brown eyes was really directed at him—her husband’s secret love child. A stab of something approaching jealousy pierced him as he thought of his own mother, her unhappiness after his father, this woman’s husband, had left. He recalled the defeat in everything she’d done since that day. Even though she’d found a gentle and loving man in his stepfather, she’d never had the will to properly fight her cancer and by the time Angelina had brought a smile back to her face, it was too late to win that particular battle.
Life had been cruel and hard for his mother. When her cancer diagnosis had been confirmed she was pregnant and her choice at that time was to delay treatment and save the baby. She only got to spend a few years with her new daughter. Max hated the memories from those dark days. He’d ignored his sister once he’d been told the full truth of her illness, but his mother had talked him round, made him see it had been her choice and then extracted his promise to look after Angelina. He was now her fiercest protector, although he knew she thought of him as nothing more than a tyrant big brother. At least it didn’t involve emotions that way.
He refocused his mind, determined not to get sidetracked by the past. ‘Lisa and I spent last Christmas in the sunshine for our honeymoon. I intend to give Lisa the Christmas she has always dreamed of.’
‘Very romantic.’ Raul’s mother smiled at Lisa and he felt her body freeze next to him, as if the hardest frost of the winter had descended. Lisa obviously had no intention of being romantic with him, but would his planned surprise soften her? Would it show her he could play the role of dutiful husband and protective father without the need for love to complicate it all?
‘It will be fun, if not romantic,’ Lisa said resolutely, looking anywhere but at him. She might have missed Raul’s mother’s frown, but he didn’t. Life had taught him to look beyond mere words, to look for more in a person’s actions. It was the only way to safeguard himself and those around him from dangerous emotions that only caused upset and pain. The kind of emotions he would never expose himself to again.
Raul’s mother reached out and laid her hand on his arm for a second time. This time he had to fight hard against the instinct to pull away, avoid any kind of contact. It was his default setting, but somehow he managed not to. Instead he looked at her, trying to decipher what was really going through her mind.
‘I don’t blame you for any of this,’ she said, looking directly and earnestly into his eyes, just as his mother had done the day she’d told him the truth about his father, knowing she didn’t have long. Savagely, he pushed that to the back of his mind. ‘And neither must you blame yourself.’
‘There is only one person to blame and he is no longer with us to accept that blame.’ The harsh words rushed from him in an uncustomary display of hurt. He took a deep breath, determined to lock himself back behind his barrier, his wall of protection. She was getting too close. The only other woman to have got that close to his emotions since his mother had died was Lisa. And that had done neither of them any good.
Raul’s mother spoke again, this time in fluid Spanish. Was it because she didn’t want Lisa to know or was it because it was truly meant? But as he watched her turn and walk away, mingling with other guests, the pain of his childhood began to resurface.
‘I’m guessing that wasn’t good.’ Lisa’s voice jolted him back to the present, thankfully shutting away the past, the pain and knowledge that he didn’t deserve the kind of happiness she’d been looking for when they’d married.
‘Apparently I am like my father, but I don’t have to be.’
Lisa’s perplexed expression reassured him that he wasn’t the only one who was unable to decode whatever message was within that statement, but her next words threw that into disarray.
‘You are also like your brother,’ she said tentatively, her green eyes ever watchful.
Was she still holding out for love and happiness, the kind that sparked around the bride and groom? Raul had confessed on their very first meeting in London that he didn’t do emotions and that had been the fine thread that had pulled them together, allowing them to bond. Two brothers rejected by the same man. Either Raul was a liar or a very good actor.
He shook his head in denial. ‘We might look similar, but that is where it ends.’
He looked over at Raul as he lowered his head to kiss Lydia and even he could see
