me of those properties around the globe you claim to know nothing of.’
He was angry; she could feel it reverberating from him and bouncing off the clean white walls of the office. She’d spoken to her solicitor, knew that her father had been advised against signing such a contract, which made it all the worse. Her father had engineered the terms just to keep himself out of trouble, placing her in the firing line. Still she couldn’t help but goad this proud and powerful man.
‘And you always do as you are told?’ Mischief entered her voice and, briefly, she had the upper hand.
He leant lower to her, his face so close to hers that if anyone was looking in through the large window such a move could be mistaken for a lover’s kiss. She held her breath, refusing to back down, refusing to lose the upper hand she had inadvertently gained.
‘Do you really think I would marry you—or anyone—simply because I have been told to do so?’ The words were deep and accented, his breath warm on her face, his dark eyes granite hard and fixed on hers.
No, she didn’t think that at all. In fact, it had crossed her mind more than once why such a commanding and in-control man would follow the wishes of his father’s will so succinctly.
She leant daringly forward, closer to him and looked into the fierceness in his eyes. ‘No, I don’t, so maybe now would be a good time to tell me exactly what this is all about instead of waiting three more weeks and forcing us into a marriage neither of us want. I have no wish to spend the next two years with you.’
He didn’t answer. His eyes searched hers, what for she didn’t know, but she couldn’t help the tingle that covered her lips as if his had touched hers, brushed over them and teased them—teased her—into passionate life.
She jolted back on her chair. ‘What is it all about, Raul?’
A smug smile of satisfaction teased at the lips she’d just imagined kissing hers and heat spread over her cheeks. She stood up from the desk, as calmly as she could even though her insides were somersaulting wildly as she fought, once again, the pull of attraction for this proud Spaniard.
‘You know it all, Lydia.’
‘I’m going home,’ she announced sternly, but the questioning rise of his brows left her in no doubt of her mistake.
‘By home, you mean, my home?’ The deep sensuous accent did untold things to her already disturbed equilibrium.
‘I have never had the luxury of calling any one place home for long. Any place I stay becomes my home—temporarily at least.’ Why had she said that? Why had she given away a part of her like that? Angrily, she turned and picked up her jacket and purse.
‘Join me for a drink—on the way home.’ His accent had deepened, become more noticeable and far too sexy.
She turned and looked at him, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. He expected her to refuse, to run from whatever it was that had just zinged subtly between them, changing everything. Well, she’d show him he didn’t scare her, that she had the power to resist the attraction—resist him.
She smiled at him brightly. ‘That would be the perfect end to the day.’
* * *
The fire in Lydia’s eyes did something to him as he looked at her and Raul suddenly had the urge to spend an evening with her. A long evening. Whatever it was that had reared up like a stallion between them as he’d looked into her eyes now called to him, daring him to accept the challenge this woman presented, daring him to take what he wanted. She was a challenge he shouldn’t accept.
He sat opposite Lydia at a café in one of the city’s most vibrant plazas, content that here they would be noticed, their status as an engaged couple brought to the attention of Madrid’s society—and subsequently Carlos, who would inform the board, who were pushing more strongly for settlement of her father’s debt. This would buy them both time.
He ordered wine and tapas and sat back, enjoying the buzz of early evening in Madrid, but knowing he would have to bring the conversation round to the finer details for their marriage. He’d been forced to put the marriage plan into motion because after one week it was becoming clear that maybe she wasn’t able to trace his brother. Her hobby obviously wasn’t as developed as she’d led him to believe.
‘I have made the official notifications for our marriage. On Christmas Eve, you and I will marry in a civil ceremony.’ She paled but before she could offer up one of her little interruptions he continued, ‘Your father’s debts will be cleared as soon as we are married, but we must remain living as a married couple for two years.’
‘I thought we didn’t have to go to the extreme of marriage.’ Her eyes flashed with a spark of anger as she looked at him, calmly taking a sip of her cool white wine. Her long elegant fingers and vibrant red-painted nails drew his attention. She hadn’t changed since they’d first met, just evolved into the socialite, a spoiled little heiress who had nothing better to do than pamper and indulge herself. Not at all the kind of woman he usually noticed. He liked more independent women, those who didn’t read too much into a smile. So why was she getting under his skin so easily?
‘Only you can decide what happens, Lydia. You need to find my brother soon. Only then can your father’s debts be cleared and the marriage cancelled. Fail or take too long and the marriage will have to go ahead.’
‘If I decide to do something I never fail so you shouldn’t trouble yourself with all those official and legal documents just to arrange a marriage that won’t be necessary.’
The defiant and determined look in her eyes stirred something deep within him, something he’d kept concealed even from himself. Annoyed at the direction of his thoughts, he pushed it aside. Far better to dislike her than desire her.
‘The official arrangement to marry you on Christmas Eve is my insurance policy to ensure that you don’t fail.’
‘You are nothing but a blackmailer,’ she threw at him and looked out of the window across the plaza. Around them an increasing amount of people were filling up the tables, their laughter and talking infusing the evening with fun and vibrancy.
‘I think that particular title goes to your father.’ There were moments when he believed her innocence in this, believed that she knew nothing of the properties her father had bartered with. Then, when she looked at him so defiantly, so very proudly, like an heiress who had it all and knew it, he believed nothing of the sort. She certainly gave out mixed messages.
Right now she looked vulnerable and that struck a chord within him, sent questions racing through his mind. She was gambling with far more than a few properties. Like him, she was prepared to risk her freedom, risk ending up in a marriage she didn’t want. But why? She didn’t appear to have a conscience for the father, a man who had used her in his scheming ways. What was keeping her here, keeping her from walking away?
‘And yours,’ she flung at him, the spark of fire obliterating that vulnerability. ‘And I don’t intend to become their victim. I will do everything I can to find your brother, Raul, everything.’
‘That is very honourable of you.’
‘Honour doesn’t come into it. Self-preservation maybe, dislike for a man such as you, very definitely.’
‘Ouch.’ He laughed at her, admiring the hissing wildcat barely
