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He awarded her a point for a good, persuasive argument.
‘So...?’ Her beautifully drawn lips parted as she waited for his answer.
‘So I’ll come back,’ he agreed.
‘Thank you,’ she exclaimed with relief.
It was an error on his part. He had given her chance to prepare for the next time. His aunt must be laughing in her grave. Doña Anna couldn’t have planned this better, placing two people with the same aim—one an idealist, and the other a business mogul—in direct conflict with each other. Inwardly, he huffed a smile of admiration. He had to admit, this sort of mischief was right up her street.
‘Before you go...’ She nibbled on her lip.
‘Yes?’
‘I want you to know that I really loved your aunt.’
He shrugged. Should he care? Was she waiting for him to make some comment to echo this? He examined his feelings scrupulously and came up with nothing. The numbness inside him had been there since childhood, he supposed. He didn’t know how he felt about his aunt, though he might have known that nothing short of a dynasty would satisfy Doña Anna.
‘Your aunt brought you up, didn’t she?’ Rosie pressed.
‘Only because my parents preferred the fleshpots of Monte Carlo,’ he said with an impatient gesture that told her to leave the subject alone.
‘That must have hurt you,’ she said gently, as if she cared.
‘It was a long time ago.’ He frowned, hoping that would put her off.
It seemed to. She didn’t say anything more on the subject, but she looked at him with something close to pity, which annoyed him even more.
‘Your aunt said she threw you out when you were a teenager.’ She laughed, seeming to find this amusing. ‘She said it was the best thing she ever did for you—but then she was always teaching people lessons, including me.’
‘But not the type of lesson that would include holding your tongue,’ he murmured dryly.
She ignored him and continued. ‘Doña Anna said old money doesn’t last for ever, and that it’s up to each new generation to make its own luck in life. Which you’ve done in shedloads.’ Her eyes widened with admiration.
Only her innocence and complete lack of sophistication could allow for this, he thought as she went on to list his credentials. ‘First you made a fortune in the tech world, and then you made a second fortune building six-star hotels across the world with state-of-the-art golf courses attached.’ She frowned. ‘I imagine that’s why your aunt left me half the island—to stop you rampaging over here. Rumour says you’re a billionaire,’ she added with startling candour.
‘I don’t much care about that.’
‘She told me that too,’ she called after him as he began to stroll away from her towards the sea.
‘Was there anything she didn’t tell you?’ he said, stopping in his tracks.
‘Oh, I’m sure there were lots of things she left out...’
He could only hope.
‘Did she speak about me often?’ he asked. He was suddenly filled with a need to know. He felt a pang of regret as he asked the question, which was a first for him.
‘She did talk about you—quite a lot,’ Rosie revealed brightly, and with no malice he could detect. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,’ she said as he turned away.
‘You haven’t upset me.’ Pausing beside one of the gargantuan rocks on the beach, he leaned back against its smooth surface. Like it or not, the girl had brought the past back into clear focus.
‘I should get back,’ she said.
‘Do you swim here every day?’ he said, turning to look at her. Suddenly, he wasn’t so keen for her to go.
‘Every morning—I have done ever since I arrived on the island. Such a luxury,’ she said. Rolling her head back, she closed her eyes as if she was reliving each and every moment she’d spent in the surf.
The island must have been a revelation to her after the orphanage. He couldn’t imagine being brought up in an institution with no personal interest lavished on a person at all. At least he’d had Doña Anna. He was almost glad now that fate had intervened for Rosie Clifton. He would have had to be a heartless monster not to.
A visit to the orphanage by the royal patron of one of the charities he sponsored had led to Rosie being singled out. The prince had told Xavier that this particular girl had caught his attention because of her calm and resilient manner. He wondered now if Rosie’s luminous appearance had attracted the prince’s attention. That, and her obvious innocence. When the prince had first mentioned Rosie, he had thought immediately of his aunt and the possibility that a young girl might succeed where so many older, professional carers had failed. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Rosie Clifton would be quite so successful. He searched now for guile beneath the frankness of her stare, and found none. ‘Do you swim on your own in the sea?’
‘Why not?’ she countered pertly. ‘You did.’
When she cocked her head to issue the challenge, she somehow managed to look more appealing than ever. It was time to rein in his feelings before they started to cloud his judgement. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ he said, turning stern. ‘What if you got into trouble in the water?’
‘I can get into trouble on the land just as easily,’ she said.
As she masked her smile it was hard not to like her, which was everything he had vowed not to do. When she shrugged, drawing his attention to the womanly frame beneath the tightly bound towel, and to her slender shoulders with their sprinkling of freckles like gold dust on her skin, he knew he was in trouble.
‘One thing I learned as a child,’ she added frankly, ‘was how to keep my head above water.’
‘I have no doubt of that,’ he agreed as she tossed her hair back, sending the glistening waves cascading in a fiery cloud almost to her waist. ‘But you’re taking a big risk with your safety,’ he warned.
‘It’s not such a big deal if you know the seas around the island, is it, Don Xavier...?’
‘Touché,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted. ‘I swam here many times as a boy, but that doesn’t make it safe for you.’
‘Are you saying you’re a better swimmer than I am?’ There was both challenge and humour in her eyes now.
‘Enough!’ he insisted, knowing it was time to end this before she won him over completely. ‘Allow me to introduce myself formally. Don Xavier Del Rio, at your service...’
‘I doubt that somehow.’ She laughed. ‘And I don’t want you to be at my service. But I am pleased to formally meet you at last,’ she teased him. ‘Perhaps we can start over?’ She suggested this hopefully, extending a hand for him to shake. ‘Rosie Clifton,’ she declared, ‘at no one’s service.’
He laughed. ‘There’s never been the slightest doubt of that.’
As he brushed his lips against the back of her hand he felt her tremble. When he let her go, she quickly put her hands behind her back, as if to keep them out of mischief. She wasn’t so good at hiding her feelings, after all. He didn’t intimidate her. She didn’t feel particularly antagonistic towards him. She was naturally wary and inquisitive, but when he touched her, she was aroused. He wondered what new discoveries he would make about Rosie Clifton. Compliance must have been her best defence at the orphanage, and she would have had to be accommodating to keep her job with his aunt. She must have worked out by now that half an island was of no use to either of them, and he was curious as to where she thought they’d go from here. ‘What do you know about me, Rosie?’
‘Probably as much as you know about me,’ she said frankly. ‘I know you by reputation, of course. Who doesn’t? But as that’s only hearsay and I like to draw my own conclusions about people, I’m keeping an open mind right now.’
‘Should I thank you for that?’
‘Do as you like,’ she said easily. ‘I do know that everything you’ve achieved in life, you’ve done without anyone’s help. Doña Anna told me that too,’ she explained, unintentionally twisting the knife in the wound she’d inadvertently opened. He’d had enough of this. She was getting under his skin, making him feel too much. He couldn’t have that. ‘But that doesn’t tell me who you are, or if I can trust you—’
He sidestepped her and made for the house.
‘Hey!’ She chased after him as he headed for the cliff path. And, Dios, now she was standing in front of him.
‘Get out of my way, please,’ he instructed quietly.
‘No.’ Folding her arms, she said loud and clear, ‘You’re not going a step further. I told you already, it’s not convenient for you to visit the house.’
He could swing her over his shoulder and carry her there, but that would lead to nowhere good for Rosie Clifton, and maybe life had beat up on her enough. She was far too young and too innocent for him, with his sophisticated tastes in the bedroom. She featured nowhere on his agenda, other than to buy her off.
‘I said no,’ she warned again, when he went to move past her.
He stopped. She amused him. Her lips might be kissable, but they were currently set in such a firm, determined line. And now another question occurred to him: Was Rosie Clifton really as innocent as she looked? Had she been swept along by circumstances beyond her control, or was she a consummate actress who had managed to fool his aunt? Tricksters didn’t tend to have swindler tattooed on their brow. Either way, he would deal with Ms Clifton. If nothing more than good fortune and happy fate shone on Rosie Clifton, then a financial settlement to make her eyes water would soon get rid of her. If she was an idealist who believed she was saving the island from a ruthless playboy entrepreneur, namely him, then his cantankerous aunt had indeed met her match, and there would be trouble ahead—but not for him.
‘If you don’t get out of my way, I shall have to move you.’
Just the thought of taking that lithe, rebellious body in his arms was enough to whip his senses into an agony of lust, but she just laughed. ‘I’d like to see you try,’ she said.
He held up his hands, palms flat. He could wait. Except for the issue of the heir—he held all the cards and she held none. She couldn’t fight him through the courts. She lacked the money to do so. She was at his mercy. Even if he failed to produce an heir and his half reverted to her, she’d never have the money to continue to manage the island. Whichever way she turned, there was no future for Rosie Clifton on the island. The only fight she could put up was with words. They both knew the outcome was inevitable. He would own one hundred per cent of Isla Del Rey. It was just a matter of time. But there was no mileage in making her miserable.
‘Try to be reasonable,’ he suggested. ‘It’s important that I see the house as soon as possible to make an initial assessment of the changes that need to be made.’
‘What changes?’ she retorted. ‘The hacienda is perfectly serviceable as it stands.’
Rosie doubted anything had been refurbished or rearranged since the man who was making her body yearn for things it could hardly imagine had lived there as a boy. She had always thought the old house perfect. It wore the patina of age and regular use with such comfortable ease, reflecting everything that was cosy and special about the home Doña Anna had made for them both. What right did he have to come storming in, talking about change?
‘The sooner the better,’ he repeated, in what she gathered was his best attempt at a pleasant tone. He failed to charm her.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ she stated firmly.
He moved past her, but she caught up with him again. If it was possible for a man to grow taller and become more intimidating, he’d just done that.
‘You can’t keep me away for ever.’ His stern eyes heated every part of her, and, instead of resenting him, she found to her bemusement that she was excited. ‘Or had you forgotten I also own fifty per cent of this island?’ he demanded.
‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ she said, especially the bizarre terms of Doña Anna’s will. No wonder he was so angry. Those terms had left her flailing for the necessary finance to remain living on the island, and him needing an heir. She might be at her wits’ end, but his buccaneering lifestyle had been cut off at the root. ‘All I’m suggesting is a rain check. When we’ve both calmed down and we’re properly dressed for the occasion, I’d be pleased to show you around.’
Reason had always worked best for Rosie when she had encountered difficult situations at the orphanage. If there was one thing that living in an institution had taught her, it was the basic rules of survival. The most important rule of all was to make no ripples, and if she did, to smooth them over fast.
She shivered involuntarily as Don Xavier’s black stare licked over her. Her almost naked body was eager for more of his attention. Thankfully, she had more sense.
‘My PA will be in touch,’ he said coolly. ‘Once I’ve had a chance to inspect both the island and the hacienda, you will be invited to the mainland for a meeting, where we will discuss terms.’
What terms? When did she agree to this?
His dismissive gesture now suggested that it would be more convenient still if he could brush her under the table along with everything else he found superfluous in his life. She had no intention of going to the mainland for a meeting. His terms? His territory? She might be young, but she wasn’t stupid.
‘I’m not sure that will be convenient for me,’ she said bluntly. ‘And, as far as I’m aware, we have nothing to discuss. The terms of the will are quite clear.’
His expression blackened to a frightening degree. This was a man who wasn’t used to anyone disagreeing with him, she gathered.
‘Are you marooned on the island?’ he thundered.
‘No, but I have a lot on.’
‘Such as?’ he derided. ‘You’ve no funds—no income.’
‘I can accomplish a lot with hard work and no money,’ she argued. ‘And just because I’ve been turned down by lenders to date, doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I don’t think your aunt would give up. And I don’t think Doña Anna would leave me half this island unless she was confident I could sort things out.’
‘Your intention is to help the islanders market their organic produce, I believe?’
He was well informed. ‘Why not?’ She might as well put her stake in the ground now.
Maybe it would be better to soften her attitude and try to engage his support? Her main goal was to help the islanders, not herself, and if she didn’t control her feelings—feelings she usually had no trouble controlling—the next deputation to the island might include Don Xavier’s legal team.
Correct. And she couldn’t risk that. She had no funds to fight him. It was time to swallow her pride and make him feel welcome. Maybe if they worked at it they could find a solution together. She was no good at dressing things up, so she just said the first thing that came into her head. ‘If you come back tomorrow I’ll make you some ice cream.’
The look he gave her suggested she might as well have invited him to join her in a bondage session, complete with whips and masks.
‘Three o’clock tomorrow,’ he rapped. ‘And no ice cream.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Rosie’s heart was pounding with anticipation as she waited for Don Xavier to arrive. He might be cold and arrogant, but she was thrilled at the thought of seeing him again. She didn’t have much excitement in her life, but she’d always been a dreamer. And today Don Xavier was playing the starring role. Maybe it was his need for an heir that had stirred her imagination. How was he going to get one? The usual way, obviously—but with whom? He probably had hordes of glamorous girlfriends, but she couldn’t imagine him settling down.
In honour of his visit she was wearing her one good dress. She’d bought it in a thrift shop with the small allowance she’d received from the prince’s charity. The money was supposed to help her to prepare for her first placement. She’d spent most of it on books to help her understand the needs of the elderly, and the rest on ice cream as she worried about whether or not she’d be up to the job.
The dress was yellow, with a floating cotton skirt and fitted top. The colour didn’t do much for her freckled complexion and it clashed with her flaming red hair, but there hadn’t been much choice in her size. It was old-fashioned, but had seemed to Rosie’s untrained eye to be the type of dress that wouldn’t alarm an elderly lady searching for a discreet companion. Predictably, Doña Anna had hated it, calling it Rosie’s custard dress, but Rosie still thought it was pretty and low-key.
She stared out of the kitchen window, wondering if Don Xavier had changed his mind. Maybe his people would arrive instead, and try to drive her away. Her pulse raced with anger at the thought. He’d better come back and face her.
So far the sea was placid blue, and decidedly empty. There was no sleek black launch approaching, and no impossibly good-looking Spanish visitor powering through the waves towards her. But she was ready for whatever came next. She had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and was satisfied that it had never looked better. He couldn’t fail to be impressed. She had always longed for a house of her own to care for, and saw the work as a privilege rather than drudgery. And she would gladly kick her pride into touch if she could persuade him to give her a loan to help the islanders launch their plan to market their produce worldwide.
The more she reflected on this, the more she wondered about Doña Anna’s intentions when she drew up her will. Was this one last attempt to save Don Xavier from his empty, meaningless life? Or was that Rosie being romantic again? In her view, all the money in the world couldn’t buy the love and support of a family, and, if Don Xavier had only known it, Doña Anna had been waiting to welcome him back into her family home with open arms.
Brushing her hair away from her face, Rosie pulled away from the window. It looked as if he wasn’t coming. Her gaze lingered on the flowers she’d cut fresh from the garden that morning... Iceberg roses: pure white and lightly scented. The full, fat blooms thrived in clusters, just like the best families, she mused, smiling at the analogy. Not that she was an expert on either families or roses. The reason she loved the roses was for the way they thrust their scented heads so proudly above the weeds she hadn’t got round to pulling out yet. There were so many things on the island worth preserving.
Isla Del Rey had bewitched Rosie from the moment she’d stepped onshore. She had been instantly dazzled by the island’s beauty. It was so warm and sunny after the dreary cold of the city-centre orphanage where she’d grown up. There were sugar-sand beaches and vibrant colours everywhere, instead of unrelieved grey. And so much space and clean air to breathe. She had left a grimy city behind, and with it the restrictions of the orphanage. On the island, for the very first time in her life, she’d felt free. Best of all, she loved the people for the way they smiled and waved at her, as if they wanted to welcome her to their beautiful island home. Their cause had been her cause ever since.
Perhaps the biggest treat of all when she’d arrived had been the discovery that she would have a room to herself. And it was such a beautiful room. Light and spacious, Rosie’s new bedroom overlooked the ocean, which was like a dream come true. Another favourite place in the hacienda was the library, where Doña Anna had encouraged Rosie to read any book she liked. That was when Rosie had suggested reading to the old lady. From that day on they had shared many adventures together, and, even if those adventures were confined to the pages of a book, Rosie credited storytelling with bringing them closer.
The varying tales had prompted Doña Anna to reveal so many episodes from her life. Rosie’s experience of love and life had been practically zero up to then, but reading to Doña Anna had awoken in her a love for family, and a longing for the type of romance she was reading about in books. Love grew between the two of them during these regular sessions in the library. It made Rosie long for children of her own, so she could tell them about Doña Anna, and keep the memory of a very special woman alive. Her dream was that her children would pass on that memory to their children, so they would understand how lives could be turned around if just one person cared enough to make a difference.
When Doña Anna asked Rosie to stay on, making what was originally supposed to be a temporary position as housekeeper/companion permanent, it was the happiest day of her life. And the easiest decision she’d ever had to make, Rosie remembered. Doña Anna was the mother figure she’d never known. She loved the old lady for her prickly kindness, and for her generous heart.
She would always love her, Rosie reflected as she glanced at her wristwatch and frowned for the umpteenth time.
* * *
He glanced at the clock and ground his jaw. He had never been so impatient to get away from a meeting before, but he was itching to get back to the island.
And whose fault was that?
A pale, determined face, framed by a fiery cloud of shimmering red hair, came to mind. He resolutely blanked it. The last thing he needed was for the basest form of primal instinct to colour his renowned detachment.
And then there was Isla Del Rey, and his conflicting memories of the island, to further muddy the water. While ideas were batted between his team, he thought back. As a youth he had loathed the island for its restrictions. As a boy, he had associated the place with loneliness and disappointment, which was only made bearable thanks to the intervention of his aunt.
In fairness to his parents, they had never professed to love him. They never tired of telling him that he was both an accident and an inconvenience. Hope that they would one day learn to love him had taken a long time to die. He’d come home from school full of excitement at the thought of seeing them again, only to find them ready to leave as he arrived. Or they would promise to come and not turn up at all.
One day his mother told him to his face that everything he touched turned to dust. She’d been a beauty before he was born, loved by his father and feted by the world, but now, thanks to her son, Xavier, she was nothing. He had destroyed her. And when his seven-year-old self had begged her not to say such things, clinging to her hand as she left the room, she had shaken him off with disgust, and then laughed in his face when he’d started crying. No wonder he’d steered clear of romantic entanglements. He’d seen where they led.
Doña Anna had stepped into the breach, raising him, and encouraging him to make the best of the island—to swim around it, and to sail around it—and he’d enjoyed his first love affair on the beach. But though his aunt had told him on numerous occasions that his mother’s words were just the emotional outpourings of a troubled woman, those ugly words still rang in his head. He wasn’t capable of love. He was a jinx, a misfortune. He destroyed love—
He turned as Margaret, his second in command, coughed discreetly to attract his attention. ‘You want these plans acted upon right away, Xavier?’
‘That’s right,’ he confirmed.
She knew he’d been remembering. Margaret had an uncanny knack of sensing when he was wrestling the demons from the past.
‘And you want that done before you attempt a satisfactory settlement with Rosie Clifton?’
‘Do you doubt I’ll reach a settlement with the girl?’
Everyone but Margaret laughed at his remark. Margaret had read the will, so she knew he had to produce an heir. Two years was no time at all, she’d told him with concern written all over her face. What was he supposed to do? Pluck one out of thin air? The thought of breeding with one of the women he customarily dated held no appeal at all.
‘I think this is a tricky situation of a type we haven’t encountered before,’ Margaret now commented thoughtfully.
Tricky was the understatement of the year.
‘If you mean Ms Clifton fires on emotion, while I work solely with the facts, then you’re probably right,’ he conceded. ‘But surely, that guarantees a satisfactory outcome for our side?’