Spaniard's Seduction / Cole's Red-Hot Pursuit. Brenda Jackson
My father and I have had differences of opinion over his stubborn persistence in continuing down this road before.”
The sick feeling in Caitlyn’s stomach intensified. Along with guilt. Because she’d shared Phillip’s obsessive interest. They’d discussed…dreamed…of buying a tract of land in the Jerez region of Spain, of producing a blend that could be properly labelled and sold as sherry. It would be a winner.
“Or perhaps it’s nothing more than an opportunistic get-rich-quick scheme?” Heath’s voice was filled with derision.
The Spaniard drew himself up, his gaze turning to black ice. “I don’t need a get-rich-quick scheme. I am the Marques de Las Carreras.”
Megan gasped. “The Marques de Las Carreras? Then you spoke about manzanilla sherry at a show in Paris—”
Rafaelo switched his gaze to the youngest Saxon. “Yes, we met briefly.”
“I congratulated you on the silver medals your estate attained for the world-renowned fresh, light manzanilla sherry you produce.”
Rafaelo nodded. “Unfortunately not quite as magnificent as the Saxon’s Folly fino product.”
Joshua was frowning. “So if it’s not a question of money, what do you really want?”
“I want him—” Rafaelo nodded his head toward Phillip without sparing him a glance “—to make good the wrong he did me—and my mother.” He slid off the window seat and dusted off his hands. “I want a proportionate share of Saxon’s Folly—and, as the eldest son, I would expect an additional portion. And I want Fernando’s journals back.”
Four
“Have you no pity?” Caitlyn caught up to Rafaelo as he strode out into the blinding sunlight. She shuddered at the memory of the uproar that had erupted after Rafaelo’s demand. He’d simply looked down his nose and told the Saxons that his lawyers would be in touch. “The Saxons are grieving.”
Rafaelo didn’t answer as she bowled along beside him, her long legs easily keeping up with him.
“If it’s revenge that you’re after, you’re making a massive mistake. The biggest loser will be you.”
He stopped and swivelled around to face her.
“How can I lose?” Thankfully the black void had gone. The fire was back snapping in his eyes. “And what if I do want revenge? After what that bastard did to my mother, I’m entitled to it.”
Caitlyn blinked at the virulence in his tone.
“It’s not about whether you’re entitled to the satisfaction it brings you, Rafaelo,” she said finally. “It’s about whether you can let it go.”
“I’m not listening to this mumbo jumbo. I will have my revenge. I will get my share in Saxon’s Folly—and then I will sell it.”
“Sell it?”
“Yes, sell it.”
Caitlyn stared at him aghast at the utter finality in his voice. This, then, was what he’d come for. And he’d ruthlessly honed in on the Achilles’ heel of the Saxon family. “The Saxons have always kept control of the business. They’ve fought off attempts by conglomerates to buy them out. You can’t do this.”
He gave her an evil smile. “Just watch me.”
His timing was perfect. There had never been a better time to destroy the Saxons. It would take time for the family to regroup after the shock of Roland’s death. Time that they didn’t have…if Rafaelo made good on his threat.
Couldn’t he see what he was doing—what he was destroying?
He couldn’t do this. A sense of calm settled over her. Caitlyn squared her shoulders, her spine stiff and straight and stared him down. “I won’t let you do this.”
His gaze was implacable, revealing no emotion. “I never expected you to say anything else, Ms. Ross. You’re on their side.”
Rafaelo could see that Caitlyn Ross was fighting not to argue with him. Her shoulders rose and fell under the ridiculous oversized sports shirt that served only to emphasise her slender femininity. The slim column of her throat framed by the crisp white collar, her wrists so narrow under the banded cuffs.
He watched in silence as she released her breath in a shaky sigh. So she’d seen the wisdom of refraining from arguing—but the effort to remain mute was costing her dearly.
“Nothing to say?” he raised an eyebrow and suppressed a triumphant smile when she gave him a searing look.
“Plenty,” she said from between tightly gritted teeth, “but I’m trying not to antagonise you.”
Her honesty surprised a shout of laughter from him. “Why hold back? You’ve been forthright until now. Say what you think.”
“But where has it gotten me?” she asked. “All I’ve done is make everything worse. Because of me Kay’s hurting—”
“She would’ve found out.” His mouth slanted. “The appearance of a bastard son is hard to hide.”
“Thanks for that.” But her expression remained tight.
Rafaelo wanted the sparkle back. “Come, heckle me, tell me what you were going to say.”
“You think I’m too outspoken, don’t you?”
“It’s refreshing.” He couldn’t tell her that few people—much less women—argued with him these days. That would sound conceited. It was clear she already considered him an arrogant, entitled bastard.
“Tell me what you wanted to say. Would it have antagonised me? Or did you want something from me?” He added the last with a certain degree of wearied resignation.
Most women wanted something from him—marriage, his title, his wealth. A life of indolent luxury as Marquesa de Las Carreras. Even those who gave up on the wedding ring and settled for a skirmish in his bed, expected to be lavishly showered with jewels and clothes and to be royally entertained during their tenure as his mistress.
When had it all grown so tedious?
When had he given up hope of finding a woman who loved him for who he, Rafaelo, was?
“What do I want from you?” Her gaze locked with his, scorching him with the impact. “I want you to reconsider what you intend to do.”
“You mean give up the share that’s rightfully mine?” he objected, disconcerted by the glow of those peculiarly translucent eyes.
“No, no. I can understand you wanting a share in all this—” she waved a hand to encompass their surroundings “—in the wealth, the family, the land, the beauty that is Saxon’s Folly. I don’t expect you to forfeit that. And I’m sure you’ll be able to work something out with the Saxons. But don’t sell it. Stay. Get to know your family—”
“I’m a busy man—I don’t have time to take off.”
“What’s a month? Or even a couple of weeks? You’ve got years ahead of you.” She looked like she was about to stamp her foot. “Darn it, they’re your flesh and blood, Rafaelo. Your family. And if you can’t do that, can’t forget about your thirst for revenge, then go catch that airplane this evening.”
Was she daring him? He stared at Caitlyn. No, she couldn’t be. She didn’t understand who, what, he was. She didn’t know about the huge estate, Torres Carreras, he owned in Spain. She didn’t know about the power he commanded. She only saw him as a threat to her beloved Saxons. Nothing more.
He’d never met anyone like her.
She didn’t seek engagement rings or glittering baubles. She wanted nothing monetary from him. He had a suspicion if he turned and vanished