34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Then
S traddled behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, Willow took in the lush green landscape of peaks and falls. The ragged Pyrenees looming in the distance were awe-inspiring without the additional thrill of the twists and turns of the motorbike. Dubious at first, she protested at his idea of travelling to his parents’ on a bike once they arrived in Spain, but now she could understand the appeal. Travelling at speed, her connection to the environment was one she’d never experienced before. It distracted her from the tumult of nerves plaguing her since he’d slipped the exquisite diamond ring on her finger, much fancier than she ever imagined her ring would be, if she’d ever considered tying herself to another person. But her colleagues’ enthusiasm reassured her she would get used to it. She was just being picky.
Once she’d met the Amenábar clan, they planned to go home to Marian and Louise to share the good news. She couldn’t wait to see their surprise when he stood next to her when she knocked on their door. Only her anxiety clouded the scenario. What would he think of her home? The grey council estate bordering suburbia was a far cry from the region of La Rioja, full of vineyards and dramatic atmosphere. Fancy her falling in love with the heir of a vineyard estate selling wine globally? She was entering another world.
Maybe if she’d had more knowledge of Spanish history or her mum encouraged her to embrace her witch heritage, rather than demonise the magic running through her blood, the mention of his birthplace would have flagged up as a cause of concern. Instead, she rested her head against him as they sped towards his family’s vineyard and home.
Surrounded by lush green fields of vines, the villa was as immaculate and polished as Rafe, but Willow’s fears of fitting in were unfounded when his family rushed to embrace her once she crossed the threshold. His younger sister, Anna, grabbed her hand to inspect the ring along with his mother, while his father and brother patted him on the back with a flurry of excited congratulations. Only the aged, shrunken lady dressed in formidable black hung back from the welcome, scrutinising her every move. Francesca Amenábar, his matriarchal grandmother. Rafe noticed, and squeezed her hand, assuring her his lone grandparent was only protective of the family and she’d come to love her as much as he did by the time the week was out. Willow doubts trebled when Francesca turned and walked away.
Willow fell in love with the area, for its contrast from the dusty, often stark landscape of the Greek island with its ever-changing seascape. Surrounded by birdsong and immense swathes of patchwork fields, it reminded her of the holidays with Grandma Jax. The place she called home. Maybe this would be an excellent alternative? Rafe took her on the bike to explore the area, gave her a guided tour of the distillery, giving her a deeper appreciation of the wine they drank with their meals, and showered her with attention. During the evening meals, Anna introduced her to the intense red Patxaran, and she discovered more about the family she was about to join. With each nugget of information, the more she respected Francesca, whose business acumen had made the vineyard flourish and the Amenábar brand expand. Willow’s only hope was that behind the steely stare Francesca still cast her way there was a seed of warmth and acceptance to ease Willow’s transition to becoming an Amenábar after the wedding.
That morning, before breakfast, Willow plunged into the swimming pool for a refreshing swim, a habit she’d formed over the last few days. The warm water washed over her as she did repeated lengths, cleansing any worries conjured in the night. A chill ran up Willow’s spine with the distinct feeling of being watched. Francesca stood on the side, her arms folded. Willow gave a cheery wave and swam to the steps. While no one was around, maybe this was the ideal opportunity to talk to her and pave the way to a better relationship.
She strode to one of the sunloungers to grab her towel to dry off and cover herself up with the sarong. Some conversations weren’t to be had wearing only a bikini. She bent down, and Ow . Arthritic fingers grabbed her arm, digging deep into her flesh. The sarong slipped from her hand and the red material floated on the pool water.
‘Bruja! Bruja!’ The old lady spat the words out, followed by a stream of Spanish Willow struggled to understand. She tried to straighten, but Francesca pushed down. Her wet feet slid on the damp tiles, sending her skidding into the chair and landing hard on her knee. She winced, but the pain was overtaken by the yank and firm hold of her hair. Panic gripped her. Taking advantage of Willow on the ground, Francesca loomed over her, holding her in place by a fistful of hair. She couldn’t escape the continuing onslaught of words peppered with bruja raining down on her. Flecks of spittle hit her cheek. She wanted to fight back, to escape and push her away, but this was Rafe’s grandmother. Was she suffering from dementia? The disturbance drew the family out of the house. Rafe froze on the poolside with his mouth gaped open. Why wasn’t he helping?
Finally, Anna and her mother stepped forward, cajoling her grandmother in a flurry of rolling Spanish. Hands released Willow, allowing her to stand. Rafe rushed over, but instead of wrapping her in his arms to comfort her and explain what was going on, he spun her round and Francesca jabbed her lower back. Her tattoo. All this because of a tattoo she’d drunkenly got on a night out with Louise. An opposing pair—a moon for her to represent her desire to move in the shadows and a sun for Lou, who shone bright. This was ludicrous. She tried to explain but Rafe’s icy scowl, reflecting his grandmother’s hatred, silenced her.
Twisting her arm behind her, he frogmarched her into the house, ignoring her tears and sharp intakes of breath as her knee protested with her weight. Household staff usually hidden in the shadows gawped, witnessing her downfall.
‘Tita says you are a witch. Is it true?’ he said as soon as the patio door slid shut, forming a transparent barrier between the ongoing commotion across the pool with much heated gesturing and glances towards the house. Only Anna stood away from the others, fear reflected in her face. Willow wished she could console her, but she had her own fear to contend with that refused to abate with tense Rafe still clutching her.
‘Well, yes. I’m a witch.’ She shrugged him off, rubbing the pained skin.
‘So, you admit it?’ His anger rose, and the air between them brimmed with a red-tinged atmosphere beyond that she’d experienced with Stuart at home. ‘Saves dunking you, I suppose.’ His words made no sense. She’d swum in the pool for days debunking the myth about witches sinking or floating.
‘You knew,’ she muttered, assessing where the exits were in the room. The French doors weren’t an option, but the one in the far corner led to the lounge then the main hall away from him.
‘No, I did not. You think I’d have dated you, lavished you with gifts, proposed to you if I knew?’
She hadn’t hidden it from him. She might not explicitly have declared it in words but the signs were there. The permanent altar set up in her room, crystals in her pockets and night-time promenades on the beach to celebrate the phases of the moon. Others around her figured it out, and often asked for unsolicited herbal advice or spells, why not him? Because you stepped into his life , a small voice piped up. He’d only visited her cramped room once and his attention was more on drunken fumbling in the dark than assessing her decor. Rituals had fallen to the wayside with spending time with him becoming an increasing importance. Panicked, she had no defence.
‘You must have bewitched me,’ he ranted. A pulse throbbing in his temple and his gesturing mirrored his grandmother’s. Her toxic contagion taking hold. Willow backed away, but he blocked her path to the connecting door to the rest of the house. To freedom. ‘You’ve infiltrated my family, made them love you. I showed you the inside workings of the business. Was that the plan? Marry me and destroy everything we’ve built up from within?’
Willow shook her head. Now would be a good time to be a witch like Louise, who’d conjure a fireball to distract or a whirlwind. What was the use of healing with herbs and manipulating circumstance with tea when your immediate life was in danger?
‘Well, witches didn’t succeed with our ancestors. You won’t succeed now. I should punish you. Destroy you as you were—’ Willow dodged him as he launched towards her, knocking into a sideboard and dislodging a large glass vase. It hurtled towards the tiled floor with a crash. She screamed and the door connecting to the staff area flung open. A maid rushed in.
‘I’ll just clean this up, se?or,’ Rafe spun round to face the surreal guardian angel proffering a dustpan and brush. He froze, struggling to retract his thunderous rage to pass off the altercation as a lover’s tiff. Noting the slight nod the newcomer directed her way, Willow ran.
Adrenaline flooding her body propelled her through the house to the hall, leaving bloody footprints from cuts on the sole of her foot on the expensive rug. Yanking the front door open, wearing only her bikini, she fled.