Chapter Five #2
They continued past the dancefloor and into the orchard which surrounded the castillo . Was he going to march her right off the property and kick her onto the street in her borrowed ball gown?
Could this actually get any worse?
But as she stumbled and he tugged her back to her feet without breaking stride while they headed through the lemon trees, the prickle of temper pierced through the fog of mortification and panic.
What had she done that was so terrible? Why did he think it was okay to treat anyone with this level of contempt? He’d not only insulted his brother, he’d also insulted her, and for what?
Okay, so she was being paid by him… And she had been forced to throw herself on his mercy in the past month, because she had nowhere else to go.
But did she really deserve to be hauled out of his party like a piece of trash?
In front of all these people? To be made to feel she was so far beneath him, she didn’t even deserve to be seen in public?
‘You need to let me go. Whatever I’ve done, I apologise,’ she said tightly, finally gaining some backbone. ‘But FYI, you’re totally overreacting.’
He grunted but remained silent, his grip tightening on her arm. To her surprise, a house appeared through the orchard on the edge of the vineyards, nestled among a grove of trees.
A house she had never even realised was here.
Covered in wisteria, it looked old but also well kept. The stone veranda which surrounded the structure was sturdy and strong. The lights on the porch illuminated a selection of luxury outdoor furniture—a couch and armchairs—making it clear the house was in regular use.
As Santiago hauled her up the steps to the porch, she found the strength to yank her elbow from his grasp.
‘Stop dragging me about. I don’t care if you’re my boss.’
If she was going to lose her job because of his temper tantrum, so be it.
She couldn’t spend the rest of the summer scared of his reaction.
Scared to put a foot wrong. Nor could she be invisible.
If he despised her this much, she would have to leave.
And while it terrified her to think of where she would go, she had to hope she would be okay.
Her Spanish was much better now, her memory would return once she got up the guts to confront those scary shadows in her head, and she was healthy.
She could work, in the fields if she had to.
It wouldn’t be easy without ID, but if she contacted the British consulate and informed them of her situation, surely they could help her…
‘I know you didn’t invite me to the party,’ she tried to explain while he loomed over her, saying nothing.
‘But Ana wanted me there. And even though I work for you, I’d like to know what you think gives you the right to treat me like a disobedient child.
To humiliate me like that in front of everyone. And throw insults at your brother.’
She congratulated herself on getting the words out past the massive lump of panic and confusion in her throat. But as soon as she’d got them out, she had to fold her arms around her stomach to stop herself from shaking.
He stood there, staring down at her, silent and forbidding, his expression fraught with… What exactly was that expression? Because she had no idea what he was even thinking at this point. He didn’t look angry any more, he looked wild.
‘Just tell me one thing,’ he said through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw clenched tight. ‘Have you slept with my brother?’
* * *
‘I… Wh-what? ’ The girl’s eyebrows shot so far up her forehead Santiago was surprised they didn’t launch off her face. ‘Are you nuts? I met your brother for the first time ten minutes ago,’ she said, clearly so shocked by his accusation the denial came out on a barely audible hiss.
The grinding fury which had been driving him ever since he had spotted Alejandro pawing Cerys five minutes ago finally downgraded enough to allow him to breathe.
He loosened his tie, ripped open the top buttons of his shirt, the formal wear strangling him.
Not unlike the vicious spurt of raw, feral emotion which had blindsided him when he had seen them together.
An emotion he had never encountered before.
Jealousy.
As he took several careful breaths, he was finally able to identify the reaction which had swept through him like wildfire as soon as he had caught sight of Cerys across the courtyard on Alejandro’s arm.
Jealousy… And vicious, uncontrolled desire.
The dress was one he vaguely recognised.
Was it one of Ana’s? But on Cerys it looked different—seductive, erotic.
The floating layers flowed over her curves, cupping her spectacular breasts, while the glittery heels made her legs look about a mile long.
The lights on the villa porch, which he left burning always to dispel the ghosts when he came here to escape the castillo , illuminated the sprinkle of freckles across her nose, not quite hidden by the dusting of powder.
Her short cap of chestnut curls caressed her neck as her ragged breathing seemed to cut through the noise—of his throbbing pulse, and the distant snap of castanets from the flamenco performance which had just started.
The smudge of make-up on her lids sparkled in the twilight and deepened the unique colour of her irises to a translucent mix of mermaid green and sky blue.
‘ Bueno .’ He ground the word out, his insides in an uproar of need. His hunger for her was so intense he felt unhinged, untethered from his own sense of self.
He skimmed a finger down her cheek, her vicious shiver of response vibrating in his groin.
‘Because you already belong to me,’ he managed, around the thick ball of desperation in his throat.
He grasped her wrist and tugged her towards him, aware of her eyes widening with shock—but also flooding with awareness.
She must feel it too, this physical force which linked them, and had tormented him for weeks. This erotic compulsion which had become a living, breathing monster in the past few days—with her in his home, but always out of reach.
She shuddered. ‘I… I do?’ she said on a whisper of breath as she searched his face, the rise and fall of her breathing making her breasts press seductively against the too-tight bodice, threatening to spill out—and snap the last thin thread on his control.
How had he been reduced to this? Every time he spied her from his study, running across the courtyard each morning to rendezvous with his sister, every time he had found himself walking through the forest on the opposite bank of the river where Ana had told him they swam regularly, the clamouring need had increased…
Until a week ago, when he had finally earned the reward he had never acknowledged he had been seeking…
Spotting her through the trees, her high full breasts displayed to perfection in a bikini she must have borrowed from Ana too, because it had barely contained the luscious flesh.
And the need had exploded through his veins like wildfire.
He had vowed that night while he stroked his turgid flesh and imagined those full breasts swaying into his palms, that he would not ask Ana about her again, would remain locked in his study working for the siesta hours to avoid another glimpse of her wearing only a few scraps of spandex, her luminous skin glistening with moisture.
But his latest vow had been shot to hell three days ago.
He had been crossing the courtyard after a difficult four hours in the fields, checking the yield, organising the schedule for harvesting with the winery manager, when she had run around a corner and straight into him.
Suddenly his arms had been full of her fragrant flesh, his lungs filling with her scent—summer flowers and female musk.
And those eyes—so bold, so inviting, so conflicted—had stared at him out of the heart-shaped face he had become obsessed with.
It had taken all his control to release her.
But tonight… tonight was too much. He couldn’t let her go again.
His hands moved up her arms, edged her forward until he could lower his mouth to hers, the desperation to taste her intoxicating, tormenting.
‘I want to kiss you, Cerys,’ he whispered across her lips. ‘I have wanted to for weeks,’ he finally admitted to himself as much as her.
Why had he tried to deny this hunger for so long? When his attempts to control his reaction had only made the need more acute? What, exactly, was he trying to prove?
She let out a sob, arousal darkening her eyes to black. ‘Okay…’
Her husky agreement was like a gunshot, threatening to destroy what was left of his control. As the fault lines snaked out, his hands trembled, but he forced himself not to shatter. Not to take what he craved so desperately. Not. Yet .
He desired much more than a taste of her, but the sheen of innocence still clung to her—despite the crushing jealousy which had consumed him when he had seen his brother touch her.
He must tread carefully.
He had never taken a mistress, had prided himself on always being able to control his libido, unlike his father.
But it was clear he had been kidding himself all along.
Because all it had taken was the right woman to unleash that feral, elemental part of himself, to awaken those same needs and desires which had torn apart his family—and destroyed his childhood.
He should be ashamed, disgusted, but somehow all he could feel was the searing desire to claim her as his. But before he gave in to the hunger, he must ensure he did not exploit her, the way his father had exploited so many women.
‘Do you desire me, too?’ he asked.
It was a crude request, one that was beneath a man like him—he was usually so sophisticated with women, his sexual needs easy to contain and compartmentalise. But not with her… Never with her.
She blinked, but then she bit into her lip, tugging the pouting flesh with her teeth, and his hunger surged.