Alejandro's Revenge (2 page)

‘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!'

Y
OU
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 col
our, 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.