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ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Alejandro’s Revenge
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE car radio was droning on and on about the temperature in Miami, the highs and lows, the relative humidity. But actually Abby was finding it anything but relative. And heat, or the lack of it, was a subjective thing anyway.

When she’d stepped out of the shadows of the airport buildings half an hour ago she’d been dazzled by the sunlight. Perspiration had soon been trickling down her spine and between her breasts. Now, in the air-conditioned luxury of the limousine, she was practically freezing, and all she really wanted to do was reach her destination and lie down until the throbbing in her head subsided.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Not any time soon anyway. The arrival of the limousine, which surely couldn’t be Edward’s property, seemed to prove that. Instead of Lauren being there to meet her she’d been faced with a blank-faced chauffeur who, apart from the necessary introductions, seemed unable—or unwilling—to indulge in polite conversation.

At first she hadn’t been concerned. The roads leading away from the airport had been jammed with traffic, and when her swarthy driver had turned off the main thoroughfare to thread his way through a maze of streets only a native of Miami would recognise she’d assumed he was taking a short cut to the hospital.

Which just went to show that you shouldn’t take anything for granted, she thought uneasily. Although they’d rejoined the freeway, she was fairly sure they were heading away from the city and South Dade Memorial Hospital where her brother was lying, injured, waiting for her to rush to his bedside. What little she recalled of her first and only other visit to the area was convincing her that they were heading into Coral Gables. And the only people she knew who lived in Coral Gables were Lauren’s parents.

And Alejandro Varga, her treacherous memory reminded her unkindly, but she ignored it.

Still, if they were going to the Esquivals’ home then she would just have to put up with it. And at least they’d be able to tell her how serious Edward’s injuries were. Perhaps Lauren was staying with them while her husband was in hospital. She hadn’t thought to ask any questions when Edward had called her.

Concentrating her attention on her surroundings, she looked through tinted windows at a scene straight out of a travel ad. The broad tree-lined avenue they were driving along ran parallel with the glistening waters of Biscayne Bay, and yachts and other pleasure craft were taking advantage of the late afternoon sunshine. This area, south of Miami, was known for the beauty of its scenery, for the lushness of its vegetation. Palmetto palms and other exotic trees were commonplace here, and the richness and colour of plants and flowering shrubs gave the place a decidedly tropical feel.

Coral Gables, she knew, possessed some of the oldest buildings in Miami, and the architecture showed an innately Spanish influence. There were squares and plazas, pools and tumbling fountains. It was also one of the wealthiest parts of the country: Edward’s in-laws had taken some pains to impress that upon her, too.

Thinking about Lauren’s parents brought her mind back to the reason she was here, and she wished one of them could have come to meet her if their daughter couldn’t. They must have known she’d be worried about her brother. Had something happened? Had something gone wrong? Was that why they were bringing her here?

Perhaps he was dead!

The horrifying thought came out of nowhere. It couldn’t be true, she told herself fiercely. Dear God, she’d only spoken to him two days ago, and, although he hadn’t spared her the details of the car smash that had resulted in him being hospitalised, at no time had he given her the impression that his condition was critical. He’d been upset, yes; resentful, even. But she’d understood that that was because he still felt like a stranger, hospitalised in a strange country.

Though that was a little ridiculous, too. Technically, Edward was a US citizen. He’d lived in Florida for over three years, and for the last two of those years he’d been married to Lauren Esquival. Well, she’d changed her name to Lauren Leighton when she’d married Edward, of course, Abby corrected herself. Even if it had always been hard to attribute such an Anglo-Saxon surname to her essentially Hispanic sister-in-law.

Abby heaved a sigh.

Something told her this was not going to be an uneventful visit. And, remembering Ross’s reaction when she’d told him what she planned to do, going home was not going to be without incident either. Her fiancé—it was still hard to think of him in those terms—had never been one to pull his punches. In his opinion it was high time Edward grew up and started taking responsibility for his own actions, instead of calling on his sister every time he had a problem.

Which wasn’t entirely fair, thought Abby a little defensively. All right, when he was younger Edward had been something of a tearaway, and he had relied on his sister to get him out of many of the scrapes he’d got himself into. Nothing too serious, of course. Lots of youths his age had spent money they didn’t have. He wasn’t a criminal. Nevertheless Abby had spent a goodly portion of her teens and early twenties paying his debts.

Then, when he was nineteen, he’d had what to him had seemed the brilliant idea of going to work in the United States. He’d been studying for a catering diploma at the time, and although Abby had had her doubts when he’d started the course he’d definitely shown an aptitude for the work.

Or perhaps his diligence had been due in part to his infatuation with one of his fellow students, Abby reflected a little cynically now. Whatever, when Selina Steward had taken off for Florida Edward had wasted no time in getting the necessary paperwork and following her.

Abby had been twenty-four then and, although she’d never have admitted as much to Edward, she’d been desolated by his departure. For so long he’d been an integral part of her life. She’d shunned any lasting relationships to be the mother he hardly remembered, and when he’d left she’d had only her career as a teacher to console her.

Still, she’d survived, she conceded ruefully. And she’d been glad when Edward had adapted well to his new surroundings. She’d even convinced herself that it would work out when he’d phoned to say he was going to marry the daughter of the man who owned the Coconut Grove restaurant where he worked. The fact that he and Lauren had only known one another for a matter of months wasn’t important, he’d insisted. And, what was more, Abby had to come over for the wedding…

But she was digressing. The wedding and its painful aftermath were long over, and she had to focus on why she was here now. But even the sight of acres of manicured turf—courtesy, so the sign read, of the Alhambra Country Club—and the sunlit plaza that adjoined it couldn’t compensate for the feelings of anxiety that were growing inside her. If only she knew what was going on. If only she knew how Edward was, where he was…

He had to be all right, she told herself fiercely. She’d never forgive herself if anything had happened to him. All right, as Ross had so painstakingly pointed out, she couldn’t hold herself responsible for Edward’s decision to move to Florida, and at twenty-two he was surely old enough to look after himself. But Edward would always be her little brother, and Abby supposed it was her own thwarted maternal instinct that made her so protective of him still.

But that was something else she didn’t want to get into now. Looking down, she massaged her finger where Ross’s diamond sparkled with a cold light. They’d been engaged since Christmas, after knowing one another since before Edward had left for the States. But it was only in recent months that they’d become close.

And now Edward was causing a rift between them. Ross considered her decision to come rushing out here at her brother’s behest nothing short of foolhardy. They were planning to get married in six months, for heaven’s sake, he’d protested. Wasting money on airfares to Florida, when she had no real proof that her brother was in any danger, was downright stupid.

Well, Ross hadn’t exactly said she was stupid. He was far too prudent for that. But he had maintained that after they were married things would be different. She would have to stop behaving as if Edward still needed her to hold his hand.

Abby grimaced. When they were married. Somehow the words had even less conviction here than they’d had back in London. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for Ross, she told herself. She did. Perhaps she’d just been single too long. Why did she find it so hard to contemplate putting her future in any man’s hands?

Or had Alejandro Varga…?

But once again she steered her thoughts away from that disastrous memory. Like her mother’s desertion, and her father’s subsequent death from alcohol poisoning, it was all water under the bridge now. It had no bearing on the present. She was here to support Edward and nothing else.

Unless Alejandro visited his cousin while she was here.

But that wouldn’t happen, she assured herself. His association with Lauren’s parents had seemed tenuous at best. As far as she remembered Alejandro was a distant cousin of Mrs Esquival, and his presence in their home had been because of the wedding. Besides, he had a wife. And somehow Abby didn’t think he’d want to introduce them.

Her throat tightened in spite of herself, and she was glad that the sudden slowing of the car brought her quickly back to the present. For a few moments she’d been lost in thought, but now she saw that they had entered the residential district where she knew the Esquivals had their estate.

It wasn’t an estate such as was meant by the word back in England, of course. The Esquivals’ property comprised a rather large villa set in cultivated grounds. There was no parkland surrounding it, no gatehouse. Just a high stone wall protecting it from public view.

The names of the various streets they passed were appealing, and Abby forced herself to look for South Cutler Road, where Lauren’s parents lived. Fortunately it was nowhere near Old Okra Road, where Alejandro had his house. She’d have been far more apprehensive if it was.

Abby was just admiring the Renaissance façade of the newly refurbished Gables Hotel when the chauffeur turned his head and spoke to her over his shoulder. ‘I guess this is your first visit to Florida, ma’am,’ he said, albeit with a heavy Spanish accent, and Abby was so taken aback that for a moment she could only stare at him.

‘I—my second,’ she got out at last, trying not to feel aggrieved that he’d waited so long before speaking to her. Also, being addressed as ‘ma’am’ took some getting used to, as well. She touched her hair defensively. Did she really look that old?

‘So you’ve been to the Esquivals’ house before?’ he went on, and she swallowed.

‘Is that where we’re going?’ she asked, gathering her composure with an effort. ‘What about my brother? Do you know how he is?’

‘No one told me anything about that, ma’am,’ responded the chauffeur annoyingly. ‘But as he’s staying with the Esquivals right now I guess you’ll soon find out.’

Abby’s jaw dropped. ‘He’s staying with the Esquivals?’ she echoed disbelievingly. ‘But—I understood he was in hospital.’

‘Guess he’s recovered,’ the man remarked laconically. ‘Like I say, you’ll soon see him for yourself.’

Abby realised she must look as stunned as she felt, and hastily pulled herself together. But all Ross’s misgivings were coming home to roost. She should have insisted on speaking to Edward’s doctor before she left England. She just hoped her brother hadn’t brought her here on a wild-goose chase.

Any further speculation was balked by the realisation that the chauffeur had halted the impressive limousine outside tall electrically operated gates. He barely had time to roll down his window and identify himself to the security cameras before the heavy gates started to open, and they drove up the curving driveway to the Esquivals’ sprawling residence.

Not surprisingly now, Abby was anxious, and she found herself moving to the edge of her seat. It was as if she hoped she could precipitate her arrival. For the moment all she could think about was seeing her brother again, and she barely looked at the beautiful Spanish-style house with its ornamental pillars and trailing vines.

The car braked before double-panelled doors, and almost immediately they opened to allow a uniformed maid to run down the shallow steps to meet them. Small and foreign in appearance, she seemed unusually eager to please, opening the door of the limousine, inviting Abby to step out.

‘Thanks.’

Abby did so, brushing down the slightly creased legs of her khaki pants. In fact, she was sure she must look distinctly travel-worn, and she wished she’d thought about taking a change of clothes onto the plane.

The khaki pants and cream shirt would have to do, though she thought about taking her jacket out of her haversack. But now that she was out in the sunlight again the heat was almost palpable. She certainly didn’t need a jacket. And it was only March.

‘Welcome to Miami, señora,’ the maid greeted her politely as the chauffeur got out to heft Abby’s suitcase from the boot. Then, with a distinctly flirtatious air, she added, ‘Hola, Carlos. Como esta?’ How are you?

As Abby digested the fact that she now knew the chauffeur’s name, he responded to the maid’s greeting with rather less enthusiasm. ‘Bien, gracias,’ he said, which Abby knew was usually followed by Y usted? but wasn’t in this case. Then, to Abby, ‘I’ll leave this here, ma’am.’ He put down the heavy case. ‘And I hope all goes well with your brother.’

‘Oh—thank you.’ Abby blinked, wondering if the house was off-limits to the other staff. But when he got back into the limousine and drove away she revised her opinion. She had probably taken him away from his usual work.

To her chagrin, the maid took charge of her case. Lifting the strap, she tugged it on its wheels up the steps, waiting rather impatiently now for Abby to join her.

‘Come,’ she said, leading the way into the wide entrance hall. It was cooler inside, and a huge urn of flowers spilled scarlet blossoms over the marble surface of a stone table.

Air-conditioning cooled the heat that had beaded on Abby’s forehead, and she ran a nervous hand over her hair, feeling the damp strands clinging to her cheeks. She probably looked as flushed and harassed as she felt.

Looking about her, she had to admit she’d forgotten exactly how beautiful the Esquivals’ home was. Cool and spacious, it epitomised all that was good about Spanish architecture. Long windows looked out onto an inner courtyard and hanging baskets edged an arching colonnade.

‘Mees Leighton—Abigail!’ The voice that accosted her was soft and feminine, and Abby turned to find Lauren’s mother emerging from the salon that adjoined the reception hall. Small and plump, but exquisitely dressed, Dolores Esquival matched her surroundings, her sleek chignon of dark hair putting Abby’s explosion of crinkled red curls to shame. ‘Welcome to Florida,’ she added, her high heels tapping across the polished floor as she came to meet her guest. Air kisses whispered at either side of Abby’s head as she continued, ‘I hope you had a good journey, cara.’

‘I—yes. Thank you.’ Abby felt a little bemused as she returned the greeting. Lauren’s mother was behaving as if she was here for a holiday instead of flying out to be at her brother’s bedside. ‘It’s very—kind of you to ask.’

‘Not so, querida.’ Was Abby mistaken or did Dolores’s mouth tighten a little. ‘We are very happy to have you here.’

‘Yes, but—’

Ignoring her now, Lauren’s mother switched her attention to the maid, who was hovering in the background, directing her to take their guest’s suitcase upstairs. At least that was what Abby thought she was doing. Her imperious signal towards the curving staircase seemed to indicate it was.

‘Oh, but—’ Abby began, eager to explain that she had no intention of presuming on the Esquivals’ hospitality, but Lauren’s mother turned to her again.

‘This way,’ she said, apparently deaf to Abby’s protests. ‘I am sure you are eager to see your brother,’ she added, heading into the salon. ‘Everyone is through here.’

Afterwards, when she was unwillingly installed in the first-floor suite she had occupied on her first visit to Florida, Abby marvelled that she had had no suspicion that Alejandro might be there.

Yet how could she have? she asked herself defensively. She’d believed that he was just a distant relative, invited to the wedding because family politics dictated as much. She’d had no idea that he was such a close friend of the Esquivals, nor that Lauren seemed to regard him with a distinctly possessive affection.

Still, when she’d followed Dolores into the enormous salon that seemed to stretch right across the back of the house, she’d had eyes only for her brother. Besides, she’d still been slightly dazzled by the change from sun to shadow. With spots of brilliance dancing before her pupils, she’d been in no condition to instantly register all the people in the room.

Edward was there, she’d seen with some relief, apparently confined to the cushioned divan where he was reclining. With one leg encased in plaster from hip to knee, he had apparently been incapable of coming to greet her. She had hesitated only a moment before hurrying to his side.

‘Oh, Eddie,’ she exclaimed huskily, suddenly inexplicably near to tears. ‘What on earth have you been doing to yourself?’

She bent to kiss his cheek and Edward captured one of her hands and held onto it. ‘Hey, Abbs,’ he greeted her urgently. Then, in an undertone, ‘Thank God you’ve come!’

Abby’s eyes widened at his unexpected words. But before she could say or do anything rash, another hand touched her sleeve.

‘Abigail,’ declared a vaguely familiar voice. ‘How—good it is to see you again.’

Abby turned, straightening, to find Luis Esquival standing right behind her. Lauren’s father was only slightly taller than his wife, with a broad dark-skinned face and luxuriant moustaches. He extended his hand towards her. ‘Did you have a pleasant journey?’

Abby was confused, as much by her brother’s words as by the fairly obvious conclusion that there was nothing seriously wrong with him. He had let her believe that he’d be in hospital for some time, whereas now it appeared that apart from a probable fracture he was okay. Heavens, she thought ruefully, Ross was going to love this.

But Lauren’s father was waiting for an answer and, summoning her composure, she managed a polite smile. ‘It was—tiring,’ she admitted. Plane journeys were not her thing, and she’d had the doubtful privilege of being seated next to the toilets. ‘Thank you.’

She glanced round then, expecting to see Lauren, but her sister-in-law wasn’t in the room. Instead she saw an elderly woman seated by an arrangement of potted palms, and behind her, standing in the shadows near the ornate brick fireplace, was a tall man dressed all in black.

It was strange, but even then she had no inkling that she might know him. So far as she was concerned the only other person she was eager to speak to was Lauren herself. She wanted to find out what was behind Edward’s desperate words. She wanted to know why he’d felt the need to send for her.

But once again Luis Esquival demanded her attention. ‘We were most surprised when Edward told us you intended paying us a visit,’ he said silkily. ‘As you can see, your brother is recovering very well.’

Abby was nonplussed. Her eyes sought Edward’s, but he was suddenly intensely interested in the cast on his leg. Below the hem of his navy shorts the plaster looked extremely white against his bare skin, and as she watched he shifted a little uneasily in his seat.

‘I—I thought—’ she was beginning, when the man beside the fireplace suddenly moved into the shaft of sunlight slicing through the half-drawn blinds.

‘I am sure—Abigail—was concerned when she heard about her brother’s accident,’ he drawled in the low, seductively sensual tone that Abby remembered not just in her mind but in her bones. And as she swung round, hardly daring to believe he’d have the nerve to come here and face her, Alejandro Varga acknowledged her dismay with an ironic little smile. ‘Abigail.’ He inclined his head towards her with all his old arrogance. ‘What an unexpected pleasure!’

CHAPTER TWO

YOU smug bastard!

For a moment Abby was half afraid she’d said the words out loud. But when she glanced apprehensively about her she saw no look of horror on anyone’s face, no embarrassed apology trembling on anyone’s lips. On the contrary, everyone—excluding Edward—was looking at Alejandro with undisguised approval, and Abby wanted to sink into the floor at the realisation that she was expected to acknowledge him, too.

‘Mr Varga,’ she said tightly, allowing her eyes to drift only briefly over his dark face. She was sure he must know exactly how she was feeling, and the hot colour that she had never been able to control spread revealingly into her throat.

The fact that she was instantly aware of everything about him, from the sleek smoothness of the hair that brushed his collar at the back of his head to the lean, aristocratic hollows beneath his cheekbones, was irritating. But that was her problem. It would have been difficult to pretend, to herself at least, that his image hadn’t been indelibly printed on her memory for the past two years. Just because she hated and despised him it hadn’t disappeared. She doubted it ever would.

Narrow arching brows framed eyes so dark she’d once believed they were black. But they weren’t. Close inspection had revealed that they were merely dark brown, albeit shadowed by black lashes that any woman would envy.

But that was the only feminine thing about Alejandro Varga. Tall for a man whose appearance proclaimed his Cuban heritage, he had evidently inherited his American mother’s genes, too. They were visible in his lean, athletic body, and his long powerful legs. In an impeccably cut suit—Abby guessed it was probably Italian in design—his tie his only concession to colour, he looked strong and invincible, and so painfully familiar that Abby’s heart ached.

God, she had been such a fool, she thought raggedly. It was obvious that as far as he was concerned he had no regrets about the past. And why should he have? To him she had been merely a novelty, a diversion. Edward’s older sister, who should have known better than to get involved with a man like him.

Now he was holding out his hand towards her and she was obliged to take it. Anything else would have been taken as an insult to the Esquivals, and she had no quarrel with them.

Nevertheless, when Alejandro’s cool fingers closed about hers, she couldn’t prevent the shiver that rippled down her spine at his touch. Even in the cool tranquillity of the Esquivals’ living room, the memory of those strong brown hands upon her body was unavoidable. Awareness, hot and palpable, spread from his fingers to hers, and whereas before she had been chilled, now she was suddenly engulfed with heat.

Snatching her hand back, she pressed it to her midriff, hoping no one else had noticed her reaction. It would be embarrassing if the Esquivals imagined she was harbouring some abortive feelings for the man. Which she wasn’t. But, to divert any suspicion, she added stiffly, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Oh, but Alejandro considers this his second home,’ declared Dolores warmly, moving towards him, preventing any rejoinder he might have made. She slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Is that not so, caro?’

‘Thanks to your gracious hospitality,’ Alejandro told her gallantly, and Abby, looking away from the tableau they presented, saw her brother’s lip curl in undisguised disgust.

No love lost there, then, she reflected curiously, wondering what Edward had against the man. He knew little of her dealings with Alejandro, and as he was apparently a close friend of Edward’s in-laws surely it would have been in her brother’s interests to try and get along with him. After all, whatever his faults, there was no doubt that he was a powerful man in Miami.

But once again she was allowing Alejandro to figure far too strongly in her thoughts. She hadn’t flown several thousand miles to fret about his relationship with her brother. It was Edward she was concerned about; Edward whose strange behaviour was definitely a cause for concern.

However, before she could speak to him, she heard the sound of light footsteps crossing the hall. Everyone glanced towards the door so that when the young woman whose footsteps they’d heard paused on the threshold, she was instantly the cynosure of all eyes.

Abby supposed that that was what was meant by making an entrance. Lauren—for she saw at once that it was her sister-in-law—gazed about her for a moment before stepping delicately into the room. Small, like her parents, but enviably slender, Lauren was wearing a gauzy floral dress that swished about her calves. Her ankles looked absurdly narrow above perilously high-heeled sandals, and Abby was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand in them, let alone walk.

The younger girl’s eyes lingered longest on Alejandro, but she was too well bred to allow her parents to suspect her smile of welcome was for anyone other than her sister-in-law. With a little cry of delight she launched herself towards Abby, enveloping her in a perfumed embrace.

‘Abigail,’ she exclaimed. ‘I did not realise you were already here.’ The slight lisp she favoured added a breathy sibilation to the words.

Abby managed a warm word of greeting, but she was intensely conscious of the differences between them, and of how obvious they must appear to everyone else. To Alejandro, she admitted honestly. He must have noticed she was at least six inches taller than her sister-in-law, and infinitely more generously endowed.

Her duty done, Lauren drew back again and turned to smile at their other guest. ‘Alejandro,’ she said, and even the way she said his name was revealing. ‘Why did you not let me know you were coming?’

‘You mean he didn’t?’ muttered Edward in an undertone which Abby was fairly sure only she could hear. But her brows drew together in some concern. Surely Edward wasn’t jealous of Alejandro Varga. For heaven’s sake, the man was married. Though she had to concede that hadn’t stopped him before.

Even so…

‘I did not intend to be here,’ Alejandro was saying as Lauren captured his hands and gazed up at him in youthful reproach. ‘I had some business I wanted to discuss with your father, that is all. And when I heard that Abigail was expected…’ His eyes moved beyond her to where Abby was standing, his brows lifting consideringly. ‘How could I leave without first renewing our acquaintance?’

‘What a prince!’ grunted Edward rudely, but once again only Abby was close enough to hear him. Besides, Dolores was moving forward, eager to make her own contribution.

‘Alejandro insisted on sending his chauffeur to the airport to meet Abigail,’ she declared, suddenly explaining why Carlos hadn’t hung around after dropping her off. And, as Lauren was obliged to relinquish her hold on his hands and turn to her husband, Abby realised that she was now in the ignominious position of being beholden to him, too.

‘He’s all heart,’ said Edward, before she could speak, this time making no attempt to lower his voice. And, although Abby was diverted from having to make a response, she was uncomfortably aware that the Esquivals did not approve of their son-in-law’s levity.

‘You must forgive Edward,’ declared Luis, taking the initiative, his dark eyes hot with anger. ‘I fear the accident has not improved his temper, mi amigo.’ Then, summoning a smile, he turned to Abby again. ‘Come, Abigail, let me introduce you to my aunt.’

He drew her across the room to where the elderly woman was sitting. She was nodding in the sunlight that filtered through the long blinds, and he touched her shoulder with a gentle hand. ‘Tia Elena,’ he said, his tone softening perceptibly, ‘do you know Edward’s sister? She has come to spend a few days with us.’

Tia Elena was very old. Her face was a network of lines and creases, her gnarled hands plucking almost absently at the embroidery silks in her lap. But her eyes were surprisingly bright when they opened to Luis’s words, her gaze turning up to Abby’s face with undisguised interest

‘Por supuesto,’ she said. Of course. She held out her hand towards the young woman. ‘It is Abigail, no?’ She paused. ‘Edward told me you are escaping from the English winter, sí?’

No!

Once again Abby had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from protesting her innocence. Instead, she shook the old woman’s dry hand and managed a faint smile. ‘Who wouldn’t want to escape here?’ she said, deciding there was no point in making an issue of it with the old lady. ‘Everything is so—beautiful.’

‘You are saying all the right things,’ observed Tia Elena approvingly. ‘Luis, we should hire this young woman to promote your new leisure complex, no?’

‘You could be right,’ responded Luis politely, but Abby had the impression that he was still finding it difficult to control his anger. ‘Abigail is always welcome here. She knows that.’

Did she? Abigail was getting the distinct impression that the Esquivals were not exactly overjoyed that she had arrived. And why not? Edward was obviously in no danger. It looked very much as if he had got her out here for his own purposes. But what those purposes were she had yet to find out.

Now Abby abandoned her thoughts and stepped out onto her balcony. It was good to feel the warmth of the sun reversing the chill of apprehension on her skin. She already felt like an interloper and it wasn’t pleasant. Particularly as she hadn’t wanted to come.

Yet why did she feel this way? She couldn’t fault the Esquivals’ hospitality. Despite Edward’s rudeness, a maid had been summoned and iced tea had been served before Abby had been escorted to her room. And, thanks to Tia Elena’s attentions, she’d managed to avoid having to say anything to either Alejandro or her brother. She’d perched instead on the edge of a bright yellow sofa and replied to the old lady’s questions about her journey.

But why had Edward brought her out here? she wondered restlessly, plucking at the petals of the flowering vine that rioted over the iron railings of the balcony. What possible purpose could he have had? When she’d left England she’d imagined the worst, afraid that there must be something about his injuries he wasn’t telling her. Now she was sure there was something Edward hadn’t told her—but it wasn’t about his accident.

The sound of voices came from below and her scalp prickled. Although she couldn’t understand what he was saying, she thought she would have recognised that voice anywhere. It was Alejandro. He was leaving. And all three members of the Esquival family had come out to bid him farewell.

Abby glanced down almost nervously. Her balcony overlooked the formal gardens that lay to the right of the long drive, and by turning her head she could easily see the entrance portico and the four people who had emerged onto the shallow steps.

She knew she should draw back, that even by standing here, watching them, she was invading their privacy, but she stayed where she was. She wished she knew what her sister-in-law was talking about. Lauren’s dark excitable posturing intrigued her. It was obvious that they all deferred to the man Abby had never expected to encounter here, and her heart twisted painfully at the way they fawned around him.

Alejandro seemed calm and unruffled. His lazy smile split the dark contours of his face. He gave a polite wave before walking towards the sleek black vehicle that Abby now saw was parked to one side of the forecourt. A click of the key-fob and then he was swinging the door open, coiling his long length behind the wheel.

No wonder the chauffeur hadn’t hung around, Abby reflected, reluctantly admiring the lines of the expensive sports saloon. Clearly Alejandro preferred to drive himself.

The Esquivals clustered around the car, reluctant to let him go, but evidently he had had enough. His firing of the ignition signalled his eagerness to be on his way. And, although Abby told herself she was relieved that he would apparently not be joining them for dinner, she couldn’t prevent the unexpected frisson of nostalgia she felt as he swung the wheel towards the gates.

Crushing the emotion, she turned and went back into the bedroom behind her. Perhaps she ought to be thinking of leaving, too, she reflected. There was a flight to London tomorrow afternoon at about this time, and if she had any sense she’d arrange to be on it. She owed it to Ross, and to her local education authority, not to take advantage of their good nature. And now that it appeared that all Edward needed was someone to complain to she had no excuse for staying on.

But for tonight at least she had to make the best of the situation. The suite, which comprised this room, a small sitting area, a dressing room and bathroom, was very comfortable. Okay, maybe the rather heavy and ornate furniture was not to her taste, but so what? It suited the house.

Nevertheless, she decided not to take everything out of the case the maid had deposited on the carved chest at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, she’d packed a couple of dresses near the top of the case that she’d hoped would be suitable for both day and evening wear, and that was all she’d need. Oh, and a pair of heels, of course. She couldn’t wait to get out of the khaki pants and into something cool and feminine.

Say what?

Abby’s lips twisted. What was she thinking of? Just because Lauren and her mother chose to wear extremely feminine clothes that was no reason for her to feel she had to do the same. For heaven’s sake, she’d always been more at home in jeans and sweaters, or in warmer weather shorts and tees. She was no fashion plate. She never had been. She’d never get away with the kind of fussy flowing outfits Edward’s in-laws favoured.

She heaved a sigh. This whole trip was going to be a disaster. She just knew it. She could willingly strangle Edward for getting her into this situation.

A knock at her door brought a momentary halt to her soul-searching. Throwing the two dresses she’d taken from the suitcase onto the bed, she walked resignedly across the sitting area to the door.

Edward was waiting outside. He could evidently get around with the help of the crutches he had propped beneath his arms. He looked a little shamefaced, however, and Abby only hesitated a second before stepping back to let him in.

Closing the door, she leant back against it for a moment. Then, still without saying anything, she walked past him and into the bedroom, returning to the examination of her clothes she’d been making before he’d interrupted her. But her heart wasn’t in it, and when her brother limped to stand in the archway, watching her, she was forced to meet his pleading gaze.

‘Are you mad at me?’ he asked, giving her an appealing look, and she took a calming breath before replying.

‘Can you blame me?’ she demanded. Then, after a pause, ‘You let me think you were seriously injured, Eddie. I was really worried about you. And now I find there’s nothing wrong with you that a few weeks’ rest won’t cure.’

Edward looked injured. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

Abby gave him a forbearing look. ‘Comparatively speaking,’ she retorted shortly. ‘What have you got? A fractured femur? Cuts and bruises? Life-threatening? I don’t think so.’

Edward limped to the armchair by the open balcony doors and eased himself into it. ‘So what are you saying?’ he asked. ‘That I have to be at death’s door before you’d make the effort to come and see me?’

Abby sighed. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

‘Do I?’ Edward was on the offensive now. ‘It sounds suspiciously like it to me.’

‘Well, that’s because you’re choosing to take it that way,’ replied Abby, catching on fast. ‘And you’re not going to make me feel guilty, Eddie. I know you too well. What’s really going on here? You might as well tell me. I haven’t got the time to waste trying to second-guess you.’

Edward’s mouth took on a resentful curve. ‘It sounds as if you don’t care what happens to me any more.’

‘Oh, Eddie!’ Abby flopped down onto the side of the bed, feeling as if she wanted to scream. It was bad enough that he’d got her out here in the first place. She could do without his self-pity now she was here. ‘Stop twisting my words. I’m pleased to see you again. Of course I am. But you have to understand, this is not a holiday for me.’

‘It’s not a holiday for me either,’ muttered Edward peevishly, and Abby shook her head.

‘You know what I mean. I’ve had to take leave of absence from school, and now that Ross and I are—’

‘Oh, I wondered when Kenyon would come into it,’ Edward interrupted her harshly, and Abby remembered belatedly that he didn’t care for Ross any more than her fiancé cared for him.

They’d all met last year, when Edward had brought Lauren to see where he’d used to live in England, and Abby recalled how she’d hoped that the two men would hit it off. Her relationship with Ross had still been in its initial stages at that time, and it had seemed a good idea to get the two men together.

It hadn’t worked. Ross had considered Edward selfish and immature, and her brother had resented the occasionally patronising attitude Ross had adopted. She’d tried to explain that Ross was used to dealing with recalcitrant teenagers, but that had only exacerbated the situation. Edward had accused her of implying that he was no better than one of Ross’s students, and in her efforts to placate him she’d inadvertently offended Ross, too. The whole affair had been a nightmare, and she should have known better than to mention her fiancé now.

However, before she could think of some way of defusing the situation, Edward spoke again. Scuffing the toe of his canvas shoe against the polished floor, he lifted one shoulder in a conciliatory gesture.

‘Anyway,’ he mumbled, barely audibly, ‘you’re right. I didn’t ask you to come out here just because of the accident.’

Abby’s brows, which were considerably darker than her hair, drew rather warily together. ‘You didn’t?’ she asked carefully, as if she hadn’t been implying as much for the past few minutes. ‘So why did you ask me to come?’

Edward blew out a breath. ‘I—well, I needed to talk to you about Lauren. I think she’s having an affair.’

CHAPTER THREE

ABBY was stunned. ‘You’re not serious!’

‘Why not?’ Edward, who had been staring moodily at the rug he had displaced with his toe, now looked up. ‘Don’t you think any man would want to have an affair with her?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Sometimes Abby was inclined to agree with Ross’s assessment of the younger man. ‘That has nothing to do with it.’ She hesitated. ‘What I mean is, I can’t imagine why you would think such a thing.’

Or could she? Unwillingly Abby remembered how Lauren had behaved towards Alejandro Varga. Even if their relationship allowed for some familiarity, Abby had noticed that she’d been inordinately pleased to see him.

Edward scowled now, his next words shocking her out of any lingering sense of complacency. ‘What am I supposed to think when she takes every chance she gets to spend time with Varga?’ he demanded. ‘And now that I’m half crippled with this leg, I don’t even know where she is half the time.’

Abby’s jaw had dropped as he spoke, but now she hurriedly rescued it. ‘You’re not implying she’s having an affair with—with Alejandro?’ she exclaimed disbelievingly.

‘Why not?’ Edward’s pale eyes challenged hers.

‘Well, because—because he’s married?’

‘Not any more.’

‘Not any more?’ Abby blinked. ‘You mean, he’s—divorced?’

‘It happens,’ said Edward bitterly. ‘I always knew Maria was too good for him.’

Abby didn’t know what to say. The last thing she wanted was for Edward to imagine she was still interested in Alejandro. All the same…

‘Are you saying that Lauren had something to do with him getting a divorce?’ she ventured incredulously, and Edward hunched his shoulders.

‘No.’ He was impatient. ‘That happened a while ago. He and Maria were having problems before we even got married.’

‘They were?’

Abby tried to hide her reaction from him. She clearly remembered Edward giving her the impression that Alejandro and his wife were happy together. That Dolores had been devastated when Maria had suffered a family emergency and hadn’t been able to attend the wedding.

What emergency had that been? Her impending divorce?

Aware that Edward was watching her rather suspiciously, Abby realised that her face was far too expressive. Raising defensive eyebrows at him, she opted for a casual enquiry. ‘What?’

‘You tell me,’ he said. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’ Edward was resentful now. ‘I bet you were thinking that that wasn’t what I said before.’

Abby chose to be obtuse. ‘What wasn’t what you said before?’ she asked, refusing to make it easy for him.

‘That Varga and his wife were having problems,’ he retorted. ‘Okay, I admit it. I wanted to put you off him. I could see you were attracted to him, and I didn’t want someone like him involved with my sister.’

Abby stared at him. ‘So, what are you saying? That you told lies about him?’

‘Not lies, no.’ Edward was defensive. ‘I just exaggerated the truth a little, that’s all. No big deal.’

Abby shook her head in disbelief. ‘And what gave you the right to interfere in my life?’

‘Oh, let’s not get carried away here,’ protested Edward insensitively. ‘The chances of you and Varga getting it together weren’t exactly likely, were they? I mean, I know you were flattered when he offered to take you sightseeing and all, but you have to understand that’s what these guys are like. Coming on to a woman—any woman—is second nature to them, and Varga more than most. I never liked him. I hoped that when the wedding was over he’d crawl back under his stone.’ He scoffed. ‘Some chance!’

‘Edward!’

‘Well…’ He was unrepentant. ‘I assumed he was just a distant relative. I had no idea he’d become such a constant presence in our lives. Do you know, he’s a major shareholder in Luis’s company? This new leisure complex they’re hoping to open next Christmas is being financed by Varga. He and Luis are partners. Partners! How do you think that makes me feel? I’m Luis’s son-in-law, not Alejandro.’

Abby was stunned—as much by the fact that Edward had lied to her as by his obvious envy of the other man. She didn’t know what she thought of his suspicions about Alejandro and Lauren. She would reserve judgement. But after what he’d told her, how dependable was anything he said?

She was so glad now that she’d never confided her own feelings to Edward. Though perhaps it would have been easier if she had. Surely then he would have thought twice about involving her in his present problems. Yet, knowing Edward as she did there were no guarantees.

Feeling her way, she said cautiously, ‘I still don’t see what you’re saying. All right. I accept that—that Alejandro is a regular visitor to the house. But you and Lauren don’t live here. You have your own apartment, don’t you? In Coconut Grove.’

Edward gave her an exasperated look. ‘You don’t know much about Cuban families, do you?’ he snorted. ‘Well, let me tell you, they stick together. Like, living in each other’s pockets, if you know what I mean? Sure, we have our own place, but Lauren’s hardly ever there. When I’m at work she’s more often here. Or somewhere else, if you get my drift?’

‘Somewhere else?’ Abby suspected she knew what he was getting at but she decided to let him go on.

‘Yeah.’ Edward scowled. ‘Making nice with—Alejandro.’

He pronounced the other man’s name just as Lauren did, and Abby’s stomach tightened unpleasantly. ‘But he’s her cousin,’ she protested. ‘Cousins don’t get involved with one another in this country. I read it somewhere. It’s considered too close a relationship.’

‘Tell that to my wife,’ retorted Edward dourly. ‘In any case, he’s not her cousin. Not exactly. He’s a distant relation of her mother’s.’

Abby sighed. ‘Even so—’

‘Even so, I know what I’m talking about,’ snapped Edward irritably. ‘I might have known you wouldn’t believe me. It’s Kenyon, isn’t it? He’s poisoned your mind against me.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Abby gasped. ‘Ross couldn’t do such a thing. I just—’ She paused. ‘What proof do you have?’

‘What more proof do I need? You saw them together. Can you honestly tell me that you didn’t think they seemed pretty close for distant cousins?’

Abby pushed herself up from the bed, feeling incredibly weary suddenly. It had been a long day. It might only be early evening in Miami, but it was after eleven o’clock back home. And, after all the upheaval, she’d forgotten to phone her fiancé as she’d promised. Would he understand that she’d had other things on her mind?

But breaking a promise to Ross was the least of her worries, she thought heavily. When she’d agreed to come here she’d hoped to avoid any mention of the man who’d caused such anguish in her life. Now it seemed he was an integral part of Edward’s reasons for contacting her. And she so much didn’t want to have to think about Alejandro again.

She’d done all her thinking and regretting two years ago, she thought bitterly. Even if, as it appeared now, he hadn’t been as black as she’d painted him in her own mind. But he’d still behaved quite heartlessly. She didn’t think she’d ever forgive him for that.

‘Abbs?’

Edward was gazing up at her with a look of hopeful expectation on his face and she guessed he wasn’t thinking about her. Had it ever occurred to him that she might have a life of her own? she wondered. As far as Edward was concerned, she’d only ever been there for him.

‘I’m tired,’ she told him now, glancing longingly towards the large colonial bed. But as that evidently wasn’t the right answer, judging by his sulky face, she tried again. ‘I just don’t know what you want from me, Eddie. I’m only going to be here for a couple of days. If you’re expecting me to spy on your wife for you, then—’

‘Hey, I didn’t ask you here to act like some kind of private eye,’ exclaimed Edward impatiently. ‘I doubt if you’d be any good at it anyway.’ He grimaced. You’re not exactly the inconspicuous type!’

Abby caught her breath. ‘You know,’ she said tensely, ‘I’ve a good mind to phone the airport here and now and ask how soon I can get a flight home. I realise you’re upset about Lauren, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me.’

‘I’m not insulting you,’ Edward snorted angrily ‘Dammit, you couldn’t be further from the truth. Okay, maybe I’m no good at choosing the right words. I’m not an English graduate, am I?’ he taunted. ‘What I’m trying to say is, people notice you. Hell, they’d notice any tall redhead around here. You may have noticed. They’re not exactly thick on the ground.’

Abby expelled a resigned breath. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’ Edward tried to reach out and grasp her hand but she evaded him. ‘Come on, Abbs. Lighten up. You could at least say it’s good to see me again.’

Abby shook her head. ‘I’d just like to know why you’ve brought me here,’ she said. ‘I mean, I am glad to see you again, but if it’s just my advice you want you could have had that over the phone.’

Edward’s hand dropped onto his thigh. ‘Well, that’s telling me straight, isn’t it?’

‘Eddie!’

‘Oh, all right.’ He levered himself up from the chair and, using the crutches, made his way out onto the balcony. ‘I want your help.’

‘My help?’ Abby followed him to the doorway, watching as he turned and propped his back against the railings. ‘How am I supposed to help you? Do you want to come back to England? Is that it? Do you need my support to get started again over there?’

‘As if!’ Edward looked incredulous now. ‘Abby, nothing could persuade me to come back to England again. I like it here. It’s my home. Not this house, of course, although with a bit of luck it will be mine one day.’ He grinned momentarily, and then, realising his sister was watching him with appalled eyes, he sobered. ‘No, what I mean is, I’ve got a good job at the restaurant. I’d be a fool to even think about leaving Florida and starting again.’

‘Then—?’

‘Give me time,’ he protested. ‘I’m getting there. But this isn’t easy for me, Abbs. I don’t want you to think I haven’t thought this through.’

‘Thought what through?’ Abby could feel herself getting edgy. ‘Eddie, if you expect me to try and persuade Lauren—’

‘Lauren?’ He pushed himself away from the railings and came back to where she was standing. ‘Lauren wouldn’t listen to anything you had to say.’ He pulled a face. ‘She’s blind and deaf to any criticism where Varga is concerned.’

‘Well, that’s good, because I was going to say I wouldn’t do it,’ retorted Abby shortly. ‘Come on, Eddie, get to the point.’

Edward hung his head, staring down at the plaster that encased his leg as if he hoped it would provide him with some inspiration. Then, when she was on the point of yelling at him, he said, ‘As a matter of fact I don’t want to you to talk to anyone.’ He paused. ‘I want you to use any means necessary to get Varga off my back.’

It was barely light when Abby opened her eyes. Her body clock was still working on British time, and even though she’d found it incredibly difficult to get to sleep the night before, she had no desire to stay in bed now.

Being tired didn’t stop her brain from working. It just added to the chaos in her head. She couldn’t wait to escape the turmoil of uncertainty that was gripping her. Dear God, what was she going to do?

Although it was almost twelve hours since Edward had exploded his bombshell, she still felt numb. No, that wasn’t true. If she’d still felt numb she wouldn’t be suffering such a sense of betrayal. Wouldn’t be wondering if she’d ever trust her brother again.

Had he actually asked her to try and use her influence on Alejandro? Did he really believe that the other man would care about anything she had to say? It was two years since she’d spoken to the Cuban; two years and many hours of heartache she couldn’t bear to go through again.

Besides, speaking to Alejandro was only a part of what he wanted. As Edward had implied when he was talking about his wife, words wouldn’t accomplish anything at all. What he really needed was for her to try and rekindle whatever interest Alejandro had had in her. He was asking her to jerk Alejandro’s chain. To do whatever was necessary to distract the other man’s attentions from his wife.

In other words to seduce him, if she could.

And what kind of a brother would ask his sister to do something like that?

Throwing back the covers, Abby thrust her feet out of bed. She had the distinct feeling she was dreaming all this. But when she accidentally stood on an earring that she’d dropped the night before, and it dug into the pad of her foot, she realised it was no dream.

A nightmare, maybe, she thought, bending to pick up the circle of gold and automatically threading it through her ear. Certainly last night’s dinner hadn’t been exactly what she’d expected, and it had been apparent from the Esquivals’ behaviour that they thought she’d invited herself here.

‘How long can you stay?’ Dolores had asked politely, passing her a bowl of rice and beans so that she could serve herself. ‘Edward couldn’t tell us what your plans were.’

I bet he couldn’t, Abby had fumed silently, noticing that once again Edward was avoiding her eyes. But, ‘I’m not sure,’ she’d responded, deciding he shouldn’t have it all his own way. ‘When Edward told me about his accident I felt I ought to come and see how he was for myself. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course we don’t mind,’ Luis Esquival had assured her smoothly, his innate courtesy not allowing him to make any other response. ‘You are Edward’s sister, Abigail. You are welcome here at any time. I hope your brother assured you of that.’

Abby had managed a smile, but she felt uneasy at accepting their hospitality under false pretences. She’d hardly been able to swallow any of the rather spicy rice and fried beef, which Dolores had told her was a Cuban speciality, and when the meal was over she’d pleaded tiredness and retired to her room.

She’d hardly exchanged two words with her sister-in-law all evening. Lauren had seemed singularly reticent to get involved in what little conversation there was, and Abby wondered if she suspected why she was here. Surely not. Edward wouldn’t have told her. Though in retrospect Abby had to admit that Lauren had said very little to her husband either.

So what was she to gauge from that? Did Edward have some justification for his suspicions? He’d left her in no doubt that he believed his happiness was at stake. He’d even told her that he didn’t know how he would go on if Lauren left him. And, while Abby was sure that was an exaggeration, nothing could alter the fact that he was distraught.

She shook her head. The whole situation was unbelievable. Could he really have invited her here because of some fleeting interest he thought Alejandro had shown in her two years ago? How was she supposed to get a man who was virtually a stranger to her, despite their torrid history, to choose her company over that of his cousin? It was ludicrous. She was engaged to Ross, for heaven’s sake. Just because Edward didn’t like him that didn’t mean she could ignore her fiancé’s feelings and act like a—a tart!

Picking up the matching earring from the table beside the bed, she padded across the floor to the windows, securing it to her ear as she went. Then, drawing the blinds aside, she unlatched the balcony doors and stepped out into the comparative coolness of early morning.

A sliver of brightness on the horizon heralded the imminent arrival of the sun, but for the moment the garden below was shrouded in shadow. Yet already she could hear the sound of running water and guessed someone was tending to the plants. The lawns didn’t get to be so green by accident, she mused, and, unwilling to be observed in just her nightshirt, she turned and went back into her room.

Deciding a shower would serve the dual purpose of filling time and helping to clear her head, Abby walked into the bathroom. It was such a treat, she thought wryly. When she stayed at Ross’s house she had to compete with him for the shower, and her fiancé tended to ignore the fact that the hot water wasn’t unlimited. He often left it running needlessly, so that when Abby went for her shower the water was cold.

She didn’t have that problem this morning. But it did remind her that she had to ring Ross before she did anything else. Knowing him, she was sure he’d have checked that her flight had arrived safely, but she still needed to explain what was going on.

Or not.

Heaving a sigh, she adjusted the shower, wondering what on earth she was going to tell her fiancé when she made her call. If she told him that Edward wasn’t seriously hurt he’d expect her to return home almost immediately. And that was what she should do, she chided herself fiercely. If she just pretended that she’d made a mistake Ross need never know what Edward had asked of her.

Stepping into the pulsating stream of water, she wondered why she was even hesitating. Delaying her return was just giving her brother false hope. All right, she was prepared to accept that he and Lauren might be going through a bad patch. These things happened. But nothing she did was going to change things. It was up to him to make an effort, to do everything in his power to rekindle whatever it was that had attracted her to him in the first place.

There were bottles of shower gel and shampoo on a glass shelf to one side of the shower, and Abby chose a lemon-scented mousse to wash her hair. It was good to massage her scalp, to feel the cleansing fragrance refreshing her completely. She emerged feeling infinitely brighter, if no less certain of what she was going to do.

The long mirrors that lined the walls of the bathroom were barely steamed when she stepped out. Reaching for a towel from the rack, she dried herself quickly and then used the towel to rub the condensation from the mirror nearest to her. Surveying her appearance with a critical eye, she wondered why on earth Edward thought that Alejandro might prefer her to Lauren. It just wasn’t realistic, however she might feel about it.

She shook her head and the tumbled tangle of dark red curls sprayed water all over her dry shoulders. Reaching for the towel, she dabbed herself dry again, aware as she did so that her nipples were suddenly tight and hard. It was because she’d shivered, she assured herself, turning away from the mirror. But not before her eyes had made a swift appraisal of her narrow waist and rounded hips.

The realisation that what she was really doing was trying to see herself with Alejandro’s eyes irritated her. Did she really care what he thought of her now? Or was she naïve enough to believe Edward’s assessment of her appearance? A final glance at her backside convinced her. Her brother was desperate, and he’d say anything to get his own way.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE decided to ring Ross before drying her hair.

With the balcony doors open, heat was spreading into the room from outside, and she turned the thermostat down to warm the room. Then, wrapping the folds of the towelling robe she had found behind the bathroom door more closely about her, she seated herself in the chair Edward had used the night before and picked up the phone.

Discovering she had an outside line, she dialled the school where they were both employed. It was still early, but Ross should be taking his lunch at this time. One of the school secretaries put her through to the staff room and she was relieved when Ross himself answered the call.

‘Abby!’ he exclaimed, after she’d identified herself. ‘I thought you were going to ring me last night. I waited up until after midnight, hoping you wouldn’t forget.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Abby wished he hadn’t had to begin with a complaint. ‘And I didn’t forget. Not exactly. It’s just—well, I’m staying with Eddie’s in-laws at the moment, and it’s a little—complicated.’

‘What’s a little complicated? Your brother’s injuries?’ Ross immediately leapt to the wrong conclusion and Abby sighed.

‘No,’ she said, knowing that he deserved a straight answer. ‘Eddie’s injuries aren’t complicated, but—’

‘But it’s going to take more than a couple of days to get him home again, is that it?’

Ross’s attempts to second-guess her were annoying and Abby wished he’d just listen to what she had to say instead of jumping in every few seconds with his own version of events.

‘I—Eddie’s out of hospital,’ she persisted, trying to explain that he was staying with the Esquivals, too. But Ross seemed determined to put his own interpretation on her words.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said, when he obviously didn’t see at all. ‘He’s back at the flat. I suppose Lauren’s looking after him. But that’s only a small place, isn’t it? Is that why you’re staying with her parents?’

Abby blew out an exasperated breath. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘Neither of them are at the—apartment.’ She deliberately used the alternative term. ‘They’re staying here.’

‘They are?’ For the first time her fiancé sounded less sure of himself. Then, almost as an afterthought, ‘So, how is Edward? Have you found out what happened?’

‘I know what happened,’ said Abby, trying not to be impatient. ‘A drunk driver slammed into his car. He was lucky he was hit on the nearside and that he wasn’t carrying any passengers. He could have been killed.’

‘Well, he evidently wasn’t very badly hurt if they’ve discharged him from hospital already,’ said Ross practically. ‘I thought as much. So when are you coming home?’

Until that moment Abby had been thinking about going home. She’d all but abandoned any thought of taking what Edward had said seriously, and, although she was worried about the problems he and Lauren were having, she’d had no intention of interfering in their lives.

But Ross’s casual assumption that if Edward wasn’t in any danger she’d be catching the next flight back to London caught her on the raw. He might show some concern for the man he was planning to make his brother-in-law. His annoying habit of always having to be right infuriated her.

‘I don’t know,’ she said now, deciding it served him right for being so unfeeling. ‘I may stay on for a few days.’

‘But why?’ Ross seemed insensible to the fact that he was treading on dangerous ground. ‘Surely he doesn’t need you to hold his hand. He’s got a wife, Abby. I doubt if she appreciates you turning up out of the blue.’

‘I didn’t come here because of Lauren,’ retorted his fiancée tersely. ‘You don’t seem to realise the emotional stress an accident can cause.’

But as she said the words Abby wondered who she was kidding. For heaven’s sake, if Edward was stressed it wasn’t because of the accident. She knew that.

‘Oh, right.’ Ross sounded irritated now. ‘I’d forgotten what a sensitive flower Edward is.’ He made a sound of derision. ‘Get real, Abby. Edward doesn’t need you. He’s just using this to get back at me. I bet it really ticked him off when you told him we were engaged.’

‘Is that what you really think?’ Abby was appalled at his hostility. ‘For heaven’s sake, Ross, I didn’t ring you to get a lecture about my brother’s character. He’s had a bad shock, okay? Is it any wonder if he needs some moral support?’

‘Moral support!’ Ross snorted. ‘Sometimes I wonder about you, I really do. You’re so easily duped. No wonder Edward can run rings around you. Well, after we’re married things are going to change. I’m going to let him know he can’t come running to you every time he needs a shoulder to cry on.’

Abby caught her breath. ‘We may not be getting married at this rate,’ she said, wishing she’d never made this call. ‘I’ve got to go, Ross. I’ll speak to you later.’

‘Well, where—?’

But Abby didn’t wait to hear any more. With a feeling of revulsion she put down the phone, staring at it blindly for a few seconds before getting up and moving away. She was glad he couldn’t call her back, she thought tensely. Although he knew Edward’s number, he didn’t know this one. He could be so unpleasant at times. He hadn’t even asked her about her journey. He didn’t seem to care about anything except when she was going back.

Surely he should sense how she was feeling. Why couldn’t he have been sympathetic, understanding? If he had been, she’d probably have been packing her bags right now. As it was, she’d committed herself to staying on for several more days when she hadn’t intended to. Either that or run the risk of Ross believing he’d got his own way again.

A glance at her watch reminded her that it was almost eight o’clock. She didn’t know where, or even if, the Esquivals had breakfast, but she was desperate now to get out of her room. She’d go downstairs, she decided. Maybe Lauren would join her. She’d welcome the chance to speak to the other girl. Anything was better than staying here at the mercy of her thoughts.

It was already hot. She could feel the heat pouring into the room from outside now, and after closing the balcony doors she turned the air-conditioning up again. Immediately a draught of deliciously cool air swept over her shoulders as she shed the robe and rummaged in her suitcase for something to wear.

By the time she’d found a sleeveless shirt and denim shorts her hair was practically dry. But it was unruly, and snatching up her brush, she quickly plaited the damp curling strands into a single braid. It wasn’t very long. It barely reached to the top of her shoulderblades. But at least it was tidy, even if a few wispy curls persisted in escaping to cling to her flushed cheeks.

She didn’t bother with make-up. In this heat it wouldn’t last, and her face was glowing as it was. Probably due to her rising temperature, she reflected. Unlike many redheads, she did tan, so her skin still retained some of the colour she’d acquired in southern Italy the summer before. Perhaps no one would notice, she hoped optimistically. At least she didn’t look as anaemic as she felt.

Her legs looked very pale, though, she conceded, as she went out onto the gallery that circled the hall below. But it was still winter back home and she wasn’t used to exposing them. Nevertheless, they were long and slim, even if Edward was fooling himself if he thought any man would notice her while his wife was around.

There was no one about when she reached the ground floor, and after getting her bearings she walked along the wide passageway that led to the back of the house. A sunlit terrace, enclosed by long screens, gave access to an inner courtyard, and the mingled scents of a dozen exotic blooms assaulted her senses.

Stepping out of the shadows of a colonnade that ran along two sides of the courtyard, Abby saw the glinting waters of the swimming pool ahead of her. She wondered if anyone used it these days. When she’d been here two years ago none of the Esquivals had ever been tempted to swim in its lucid depths. As far as they were concerned it was an ornament, a status symbol. As necessary to their lives as the gymnasium in the basement which no one used either.

Pushing her hands into the pockets of her shorts, Abby walked down the two shallow steps that divided the pool deck from the courtyard above. She wasn’t thinking about anything at that moment except how delightful it would be to have the freedom to immerse herself in the cool water, and she was shocked when a tall, dark-clad figure rose up from beside the pool.

It was Alejandro. Wearing a black tee shirt and black trousers, he had evidently been sitting on one of the shaded loungers that stood in a regimented row beneath a hedge of flowering bougainvillaea. Lean and imposing, he was looking at her with dark enigmatic eyes, and Abby’s mouth dried at the realisation that she didn’t know what she was going to say to him.

‘Abigail,’ he greeted her, inclining his head politely. ‘I am sorry if I startled you. I thought perhaps you had seen me.’

And come down here to speak to you? contributed Abby silently. As if she would! The truth was, if she’d seen him first she’d probably have turned tail and gone back into the house.

And how mature was that?

‘I—no,’ she answered now, glancing back over her shoulder, hoping for deliverance. ‘You’re an early caller. Are you waiting for Luis?’

‘No.’ Alejandro’s mouth compressed for a moment. ‘As a matter of fact, none of the family knows I am here. Except for yourself, por supuesto.’ He paused. ‘Does that bother you?’

‘Why should it bother me?’ she retorted, stung for a moment into revealing her true feelings. But then, realising that was hardly the image Edward would want her to promote, she added, ‘Not at all.’

‘Good.’ Alejandro turned and indicated the row of loungers behind him. ‘Perhaps you will join me?’

Abby saw now that there was a tray residing on the glass-topped table beside the chair he had been occupying. A jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and two glasses, a pot of coffee, and two cups. He had evidently been expecting company, whatever he said, and she wondered with a momentary frisson of distaste if Lauren had stood him up.

But, no. That was pandering to Edward’s paranoia, and she had no reason to assume the worst. One of the maids had made an error, had provided breakfast for two instead of one.

‘I’m—not sure that would be a good idea,’ she said at last, even if this was an opportunity to find out what she wanted to know. ‘I was looking for Lauren. Do you know if she’s about?’

‘If I know my cousin, she is unlikely to appear much before noon,’ Alejandro said smoothly. ‘I am sorry I cannot help you there. Perhaps you will reconsider my invitation instead.’

He had taken a step towards her and Abby had to steel herself not to retreat before his potent masculinity. Her skin prickled in anticipation of his touch, however, and although she might deny it to herself he could still set her pulses racing just by standing close to her.

‘I—don’t know,’ she said unevenly, wishing she could put her emotions aside and deal with him as casually as he was dealing with her. What was wrong with her, for heaven’s sake? It wasn’t as if she still believed in hearts and flowers, after all. After her brief encounter with this man she’d been very careful not to trust too much again.

‘I do not think there would be any harm in us sharing a pot of coffee,’ Alejandro said now, and for a moment she thought he was going to take her arm and guide her to a chair. ‘Do not be alarmed, Abigail. I only wish to speak with you. That is all.’

Was she supposed to be grateful for that? Abigail wondered what he was really thinking behind that cool, disturbing mask. ‘Well—all right,’ she submitted at last, a little breathily. If she wanted him to believe she’d forgotten what had happened two years ago, she would have to do better than this. ‘Where do you want me to sit?’

Alejandro drew back to indicate a chair at right angles to the table. ‘I think you would be most comfortable there, in the shade,’ he replied, and she sucked in her breath as she circled round him, desperate to avoid any contact between them. He waited until she was seated before taking the chair opposite, sitting sideways on the recliner, legs spread to accommodate the table. ‘Which would you prefer? Orange juice or coffee?’

In actual fact, Abby would have preferred orange juice, but she needed the caffeine so she chose coffee instead. To her surprise, Alejandro lifted the pot himself, asking her preference for milk and sugar before passing a cup to her.

She was tempted to say Isn’t this cosy? but she restrained herself. It was just the bubble of hysteria in her stomach that was putting such ideas into her head. Still, the thought of her sitting here, drinking coffee with the man who had seduced her after her brother’s wedding and then allowed her to return to England without once attempting to find out if she was all right was quite incredible. Did he have no shame? When was he going to mention that he’d forgotten to tell her that he had had a wife?

But that was all in the past, she reminded herself. Concentrating on the swirling coffee in her cup, she forced herself to put such memories aside. What she ought to be asking herself was why he’d invited her to join him. Why would he want to spend any time with her? The fleeting attraction he’d felt for her was dead and buried. She was right to be suspicious about his motives now.

Nevertheless, she remembered unwillingly, he had wanted her once. Had wanted to have sex with her, at least. Well, he’d achieved his aim, she thought, an angry sob rising in her throat. So what now? A belated apology for past sins? Her lips twisted. More likely a plea that she wouldn’t spoil his current plans by denouncing him to his family.

She noticed that although Alejandro had poured himself a cup of strong black coffee he didn’t touch it. Instead, he played with the gold signet ring on his smallest finger, causing it to glint hypnotically in the sunlight. His hands hung between his thighs and Abby had to force herself not to watch him—had to force her eyes not be to be drawn to the taut seam of his pants between his legs.

‘You are looking good, Abigail,’ he said abruptly, and she set her cup down in its saucer rather harder than she’d intended. This was not what she’d expected at all. ‘How are you? I understand you are still teaching. You are quite happy to pursue your career?’

‘I have to earn a living, if that’s what you mean,’ she responded tersely, wondering why he’d be interested enough to find out, and Alejandro inclined his head.

‘Por supuesto. Of course.’ A half-smile touched his lips. ‘Edward would have told me if your circumstances had changed.’

Would he? Abby doubted that very much. Why would Edward tell him anything? What he meant was that Edward would have mentioned it to his in-laws and it might then have found its way to his ears.

‘Do you see much of Edward?’ she asked, deciding this was as good a way as any of finding out what Alejandro thought of her brother, and the dark man gave her a level look.

‘Did he not tell you?’ he countered surprisingly, and once again she gave him a wary look.

‘I—I believe you and—and Luis are working together these days,’ she said obliquely, reminding herself to keep her tone impartial. ‘Do you—er—do you spend a lot of time here?’

Alejandro studied her expression for a moment, before responding drily, ‘Is that a polite way of finding out if I am likely to be—what is it you say?—under your feet?’

‘No!’ Abby’s face was suddenly suffused with hot colour. ‘What you do is nothing to do with me, Mr Varga. I was just wondering why—why you are here so early, that’s all.’

‘And I thought I had made that clear.’ Alejandro arched a dark brow. ‘And—Mr Varga? Do you honestly think we can behave as if there was never anything between us?’

Oh, God!

Abby had been about to pick up her coffee cup again, but now she pressed her hands together in her lap. She’d never dreamt that he might confront her with what had happened two years ago. Had he no shame? Or did he just enjoy making her squirm?

‘I’d prefer not to talk about it,’ she said at last, though she balked at addressing him as Mr Varga again. She didn’t want to anger him. That would be foolish. ‘It was a mistake I’d just as soon forget.’

Alejandro’s mouth compressed. ‘You think?’ he said, regarding her flushed face for several long nerve-racking seconds. His eyes dropped to the ring on her finger. ‘Edward told me there was a new man in your life.’

A new man?

Abby didn’t know what he meant by that, but she had no intention of entering into a discussion about her private life. It was hard enough to believe Edward would have told him anything. And that rekindled all the suspicions about Lauren her brother had raised.

‘Look,’ she said, trying not to sound concerned, ‘what is this all about? And please don’t tell me you’re interested in what I’ve been doing. It’s a little late to find your conscience now.’

‘My conscience?’ He seemed amazed by her directness. ‘I am sure your brother has told you I do not have such a thing. But you, Abigail—you are different from Edward. And I still find you attractive. Please have no doubts about that.’

Abby was stunned into silence. Had he guessed why Edward had tricked her into coming here? But, if so, did that mean there was some truth in what Edward had been saying? Were he and Lauren really involved in an affair?

‘I—my brother has had an accident,’ she said unevenly. ‘That’s the only reason why I’m here.’

‘If you say so,’ he said, his eyes dark and guarded. ‘But your brother has another agenda, I think.’

Abby swallowed. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, not sure now she even wanted to know.

‘Edward has a hairline fracture to his leg,’ he said, his tone dismissive. ‘Hardly life-threatening, I think you will agree.’

The fact that Abby herself had said much the same when she’d found out was not an issue. ‘He’s had a terrible shock,’ she insisted tensely. ‘He could have been killed—’

‘But he was not,’ inserted Alejandro unfeelingly, much like her fiancé. ‘Forgive me, Abigail, but your brother leads far too charmed a life to have it taken away by a drunken driver. The accident was unfortunate, but not serious. The car was damaged, sí, but it was not a write-off.’

Abby pushed back her chair and got to her feet. Whatever Edward expected of her, she couldn’t stand any more of this. Did Alejandro know why Edward had brought her here, or was he only guessing? And why, when he insisted he was still interested in her, did she feel so aggrieved when this was exactly what her brother had hoped?

‘If you’ll excuse me…’ she said, not really caring whether he did or not. But Alejandro wasn’t finished with her.

When she would have circled the table and hurried up the steps to the terrace, he moved into her path. ‘You are not leaving already,’ he said, and although it was said innocently enough Abby thought it sounded like a warning. ‘We have not finished our discussion, Abigail. Edward is not going to like it if you don’t get a favourable result.’

‘How dare you?’

Abby was so incensed her hand moved automatically towards his face. But Alejandro’s hand was quicker, trapping her wrist in mid-flight, holding it effortlessly away from harm.

‘I think not,’ he said softly, his warm breath lifting the unruly strands of hair from her cheek. ‘If your brother wants my help, you will have to do better than this, cara. I regret the need to use these methods, Abigail, but I did not make the rules.’

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