Alejandro's Revenge (4 page)

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.

S
HE
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.