Alejandro's Revenge. Anne Mather
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,