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A Diamond For Del Rio's Housekeeper
Susan Stephens


The housekeeper’s proposition…When half his inheritance is left to his aunt’s housekeeper, English orphan Rosie Clifton, Spanish aristocrat Don Xavier Del Rio is determined to claim what’s rightfully his. So when Rosie surprises him with a marriage proposal Xavier sees a way to get everything he wants…including Rosie in his bed!Rosie will do anything to protect her home on the Isla Del Rey—even marry Xavier! She’ll provide him with an heir in exchange for him leaving the untouched beauty of the island intact. But can she trust her charming new husband—or his devastating kiss?







The housekeeper’s proposition...

When half his inheritance is left to his aunt’s housekeeper, English orphan Rosie Clifton, Spanish aristocrat Don Xavier Del Rio is determined to claim what’s rightfully his. So when Rosie surprises him with a marriage proposal, Xavier sees a way to get everything he wants...including Rosie in his bed!

Rosie will do anything to protect her home on the Isla Del Rey—even marry Xavier! She’ll provide him with an heir, in exchange for him leaving the untouched beauty of the island intact. But can she trust her charming new husband—or his devastating kiss?


‘I think we should get married.’

Xavier’s eyes widened. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said faintly. ‘Am I imagining things, or did you just propose marriage?’

‘That’s exactly what I said,’ Rosie confirmed.

He looked incredulous.

‘It would solve all our problems,’ she said. ‘Yours especially,’ she hurried on, ‘So it seems to me to be the sensible thing to do—’

‘Sensible?’ He raked his hair with exasperated fingers.

‘You need an heir, or you’ll lose your half of the island to me, and unless you’ve got someone in mind—’

‘I don’t.’

‘Then...’

‘Better the devil I know?’ he suggested grimly.

‘You can’t buy me out—you should know that by now—and if we marry you get to keep your share.’

‘What’s in it for you?’

‘Everything,’ she said bluntly. And nothing, she thought. ‘A secure future for the islanders and the island,’ she insisted, ignoring the chill in his eyes. ‘So will you consider my suggestion?’

She had no idea what Xavier was thinking as he stared into the fire. Her best guess was that this was Xavier the businessman, weighing up the odds.

‘I can’t believe you’re serious about this,’ he said, looking around at last.

‘You’d have my full cooperation,’ she stressed, sensing the faintest of possibilities that he might say yes.

‘I would certainly expect your cooperation in bed.’


Wedlocked!

Conveniently wedded, passionately bedded!

Whether there’s a debt to be paid, a will to be obeyed or a business to be saved...she’s got no choice but to say ‘I do’!

But these billionaire bridegrooms have got another think coming if they think marriage will be easy...

Soon their convenient brides become the object of an inconvenient desire!

Find out what happens after the vows in

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

by Sharon Kendrick



One Night to Wedding Vows

by Kim Lawrence



Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed by Michelle Smart Expecting a Royal Scandal by Caitlin Crews Trapped by Vialli’s Vows by Chantelle Shaw Baby of His Revenge by Jennie Lucas

Look out for more Wedlocked! stories

coming soon!


A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

Susan Stephens






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis, or gallops through the countryside singing loudly.

Books by Susan Stephens

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

In the Sheikh’s Service

Master of the Desert

One Night With Consequences

Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire

Hot Brazilian Nights!

In the Brazilian’s Debt

At the Brazilian’s Command

Brazilian’s Nine Months’ Notice

Back in the Brazilian’s Bed

The Skavanga Diamonds

Diamond in the Desert

The Flaw in His Diamond

The Purest of Diamonds?

His Forbidden Diamond

The Acostas!

The Untamed Argentinian

The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta

The Argentinian’s Solace

A Taste of the Untamed

The Man from Her Wayward Past

Taming the Last Acosta

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.


For my wonderful readers, who give me licence to dream.

You’re always at the forefront of my mind,

and this is for you.


Contents

Cover (#ud0ed7aab-add2-572a-9b28-d9a836bc0997)

Back Cover Text (#u1bcc4ebd-e895-5c77-a72a-d9e58c45b1df)

Introduction (#ue5a0780f-9a3e-5f43-9046-6a71c3d990df)

Wedlocked (#ulink_09464b73-d587-57d2-8920-b4f534683044)

Title Page (#ufc209e8a-e229-5f57-af84-9cb83c535415)

About the Author (#ue7644fec-1b61-54c2-af46-410485c7b2eb)

Dedication (#u05a78c76-783c-519b-91a1-b3fe0470986a)

CHAPTER ONE (#ude669591-3e3f-5859-866a-b42d998ff597)

CHAPTER TWO (#u069af224-4364-5010-98a8-3c33e140ba5f)

CHAPTER THREE (#ufe9b515b-87e1-5038-8814-506eedb89771)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3f554070-6d32-532d-b904-797cf6e1c14e)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u7b603109-7f4c-5eda-8bc7-18df1c1d2a97)

‘THIS IS A private beach...’

Rosie had to raise her voice to reach the big, brutal-looking man lowering the anchor on his sleek black launch off shore. He’d stilled, so she was sure he’d heard her, but for some reason he’d chosen to ignore her. Waving her arms made no impact at all.

‘Damned invaders,’ Rosie’s late elderly employer, Doña Anna, would have said as she waved her walking stick at any sailors bold enough to drop anchor near her private island. ‘You can’t swim here! This is my island!’ Standing belligerently, with her crab-like hands planted firmly on her bony hips, Doña Anna would continue to berate visitors—whom Rosie had always thought couldn’t do much harm if all they wanted to do was enjoy the crystalline waters and sugar-sand beach for an hour or so—until they took the hint that they weren’t welcome and left for kinder waters.

Rosie tensed as the man stared straight at her. With maybe fifty yards between them, his penetrating assessment stabbed her like an arrow.

Her body reacted in the craziest way, softening and yearning as the force of his personality washed over her. The effect was as powerful as if they were standing toe to toe.

She was instantly in ‘fight or flight’ mode. Her brain sharpened to make that call. Only what they’d called her pure, damned stubbornness at the orphanage was keeping her rooted to the spot. She might not have had the best of starts in life, but she wasn’t a victim and never would be.

And a promise was a promise, Rosie vowed. Her promise to Doña Anna, that she would keep the island safe, was sacrosanct. However intimidating the man seemed, until she knew what he wanted, he wasn’t getting any further than the shore.

The man had other ideas.

Her heart thundered as he sprang lightly onto the bow rail, preparing to dive into the sea. Keeping the island safe would take more than good intentions, she suspected. He was twice her size and built like a gladiator.

His dive made barely a ripple in the water. Surfacing, he powered towards the shore. There was something hard and ruthless about him that stole away her earlier confidence, replacing it with apprehension. Crew of a mother yacht generally wore some sort of uniform with the name of their boat emblazoned on it. He wore no identifying clothing. Stripped to the waist in cut-off shorts, he was maybe thirty...older than she was, anyway.

Rosie was in her early twenties. She couldn’t even be sure of her date of birth. There was no record of it. A fire at the orphanage had destroyed all evidence of her history shortly after she arrived. Her life experience was limited to the strange, isolated world inside an institution, and now a small island off the southern tip of Spain.

She’d been lucky enough to be offered a job on Isla Del Rey by a charity that ran a scheme for disadvantaged young people. The post involved working on a trial basis as a companion/housekeeper for an elderly lady who had driven six previous companion/housekeepers away. On the face of it, not the most promising opportunity, but Rosie would have jumped at anything to escape the oppressive surroundings of the institution, and the island had seemed to offer sanctuary from the harsh realities of the outside world.

That world was back with a vengeance now, she thought as the man drew close to shore.

She took up position, ready to send him on his way. Doña Anna had given her so much more than a roof over her head, and she owed it to the old lady to keep her island safe.

Against all the odds, Rosie had become close to her employer, but in her wildest dreams she could never have predicted that in one last act of quite astonishing generosity Doña Anna would leave orphan Rosie Clifton half of Isla Del Rey in her will.

Rosie’s inheritance became an international scandal. She hadn’t been exactly welcomed into the land-owning classes, more shunned by them. Even Doña Anna’s lawyer had made some excuse not to meet her. His formal letter had seemed impregnated with his scorn. How could she, a lowly housekeeper and an orphan to boot, step into the shoes of generations of Spanish aristocracy? No one had seemed to understand that what Rosie had inherited was an old lady’s trust, and her love.

Doña Anna’s generous bequest had turned out to be a double-edged sword. Rosie had come to love the island, but without a penny to her name, and no wage coming in, she could barely afford to support herself, let alone help the islanders to market their organic produce on the mainland, as she had promised them she would.

The man had reached the shallows, and was wading to the shore. Naked to the waist and muscular, his deeply tanned frame dripping with seawater, he was a spectacular sight. She couldn’t imagine a man like that going cap in hand for a loan.

Rosie had failed spectacularly in that direction. Every letter she’d sent to possible investors for the island had been met with silence, or scorn: Who was she but a lowly housekeeper whose life experience was confined to an orphanage? She couldn’t even argue with that view, when it was right.

He speared her with a glance. She guessed he could open any door. But not this door. She would keep her deathbed promise to Doña Anna, and continue the fight to keep the island unspoiled. Which, in Doña Anna’s language, meant no visitors—especially not a man who was looking at Rosie as if she were a piece of flotsam that had washed up on the beach. She would despatch him exactly as Doña Anna would have done, Rosie determined, standing her ground. Well, perhaps not quite the same way. She was more of a firm persuader than a shouter.

Her heart pounded with uneasiness as he strode towards her across the sand. She was alone and vulnerable. He’d chosen the best time of day to spring his surprise. Rosie had never made any secret of the fact that she liked to swim early in the morning before anyone was up. When she was alive, Doña Anna had encouraged this habit, saying Rosie should get some fresh air before spending all day in the house.

Snatching up her towel from the rock where she’d spread it out to dry, she covered herself modestly. Even so, she was hardly dressed for receiving visitors. The house was half a mile away up a steep cliff path, and no one would hear her cry for help—

She wouldn’t be calling for help. She owned fifty per cent of this island, with the other fifty per cent belonging to some absentee Spanish Grandee.

Don Xavier Del Rio was Doña Anna’s nephew, but as he hadn’t troubled to visit his aunt during Rosie’s time on the island, not even attending her funeral, Rosie doubted he would inconvenience himself now. According to Doña Anna, he was a playboy who lived life on the edge. As far as Rosie was concerned, he was a hard-hearted brute, who didn’t deserve such a lovely aunt.

Admittedly, when it came to his business, he seemed to be successful. But, billionaire or not, in Rosie’s view, he should have made some effort to visit Doña Anna—or perhaps he was just too important to care.

* * *

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The girl had set herself up on the beach as if he were the intruder. ‘You’re right,’ he barked at her. ‘This is a private beach. So what the hell are you doing here?’

‘I own—I mean, I live on the island,’ she said, tipping her chin a little higher in what he supposed was an attempt to stare him in the eyes.

He towered over her. She was small and young and lithe, with long, striking red hair, and an expression that appeared candid, but was most definitely defiant and determined. She was pale, but outwardly composed. He knew who she was. The lawyer had warned him she might be difficult and not to be deceived by her innocent looks.

‘Did the lawyer send you?’ she challenged, seeming to have no guard on her tongue.

‘No one sent me,’ he replied, all the time assessing her keenly.

‘Then why are you here?’

Her clenched fists were the only sign that she was nervous. She had courage to stand up to him, but he wasn’t a bully and she was a young girl alone on the beach. He ordered his muscles to stand down. ‘I’m here to see you.’

‘Me?’

She put one small hand on the swell of plump breasts peeping above the towel. And then a stiff breeze caught hold of her hair and lifted it, tossing it about. The urge to fist a hank of it, so he could ease her head back and kiss her throat, was overwhelming.

She might hold appeal, but anyone who could persuade his crotchety aunt to leave them such a sizeable bequest had to be more conniving than she looked.

‘We have business to discuss.’ He glanced up the cliff towards the house.

‘You can only be one person,’ she said, levelling her cool amethyst gaze on him. ‘The lawyers have shown no interest in me, or in the island. They’re happy to let Isla Del Rey go to hell, and me with it. Every door in the city’s been slammed in my face. But I suppose you already know that...Don Xavier.’

He remained impassive. The day the contents of his aunt’s will had become known her lawyers had been in touch with him to profess their undying loyalty. The firm had worked for the Del Rio family for years, the head of the firm was at pains to remind him, and every associate was squarely behind Don Xavier in this most regrettable situation. There was a good case to challenge the will, the lawyer had assured him, no doubt rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of more fees to come. Xavier had dismissed the man’s suggestion out of hand. He would deal with the situation, as he would deal with this girl.

‘Are you responsible for me being ignored in the city?’ the girl now challenged him, firming her jaw with affront.

‘No,’ he said honestly. His aunt had always been mischievous, and never more so than when she had drawn up her will. Now he’d met the girl with whom he shared the bequest, he suspected Doña Anna must have taken much pleasure in putting as many obstacles in his way as she could before he could lay claim to an island that was rightfully his. ‘No doubt the money men think as I do, that the responsibility of Isla Del Rey cannot rest in the hands of one young girl.’

‘Well, I don’t suppose you’re interested in my opinion,’ she flashed back.

She was going to give it to him anyway, he suspected.

She proved him right. ‘Anyone lucky enough to have relatives should cherish them, not abandon them, however difficult they might be.’

‘Was that a dig at me?’ he asked with mild amusement. ‘Are you suggesting that I have as little claim to the island as you?’

‘You have the name,’ she conceded. ‘You also have the reputation. Why would your aunt leave the island she loved above all things to a man as notorious as you?’

The bluntness of this statement silenced him for a moment, and he had to admit to some grudging respect. Her boldness was shocking, but it was also refreshing. He guessed her blunt character had been forged on the anvil of a difficult childhood. She’d had to find ways to survive, and had chosen logic and stubbornness over compliance and self-pity. She was brave. He’d give her that. Not many people would take him on.

‘No argument, Don Xavier?’

He raised a brow, but what she’d said was true. His reputation hung by a thread. He lived hard and fast, funded by the lifestyle his highly successful business ventures provided. He wasn’t interested in love and caring. They had only brought him disappointment in the past. He had no time for such things now. That was why he had avoided both the island and his aunt. He wasn’t proud to admit that the thought of rekindling the feelings he’d had for the old lady when he was a boy had made it easier for him to stay away. His parents had knocked all thoughts of love out of him. More grief? More regret? Why would he invite them in? He’d done what Doña Anna had asked him to do, which was to make more money to fund those schemes she would have been proud of, and that had to be enough.

But his mischievous aunt was asking more of him in her will. He could only imagine she had been playing games with him when she had added a particular caveat that stood in the way of him claiming his inheritance.

‘I imagine it’s the terms of your aunt’s will that brought you here,’ the girl commented forthrightly.

What business was it of hers?

Against his better judgement, his senses stirred as she continued to interrogate him with her astonishingly beautiful amethyst eyes.

‘We’re both here for the same reason, I imagine,’ he countered evenly. ‘To sort out the terms of the bequest.’

‘I live here, you don’t,’ she said, smiling a faint challenge at him.

Was she staking her claim? If she’d read the will, and he presumed she had, she would know he could forfeit his half of the island if he didn’t provide the estate with an heir within two years. It must have amused his aunt to put his infamous reputation to the test.

‘You’re under some pressure, I imagine,’ the girl said.

Seeing the glint of amusement in her eyes, he guessed she was enjoying this as much as his aunt must have done. He could imagine them getting on together. And of course the girl could afford to laugh, as her fifty per cent of the island was safe. All she had to do was wait him out, hope he didn’t produce an heir, and she would own the island outright. His trump card was the fact that she didn’t have any money to support herself, so nothing was certain. Not yet.

‘So you’re familiar with the terms of my aunt’s will?’ he confirmed as they stood facing each other, weighing each other up.

‘Yes,’ she said frankly. ‘Your aunt’s lawyer was difficult to begin with. He didn’t want to show me anything, but I insisted.’

I bet you did, he thought.

‘He couldn’t deny my request,’ she explained. ‘To be honest, I just wanted to see your aunt’s will with my own eyes to confirm that I really had inherited half of Isla Del Rey, but then...’ Biting down on her lip, she looked away.

‘Yes?’ he prompted, sensing serious thoughts beneath her calm exterior. The worst mistake he could make would be to take this woman lightly.

‘But then I read that bit about you,’ she said, refocusing her luminous stare on his face. ‘So I understand the pressure you’re under.’ She couldn’t resist a little smile as she added, ‘I always knew Doña Anna had a strange sense of humour, but I have to admit she excelled herself this time. Maybe if you hadn’t ignored her for so long—’

‘I stand reprimanded,’ he said curtly. He didn’t want to discuss his aunt with anyone, let alone this young woman.

‘The thing I find confusing,’ she said, ‘is this. I always thought Doña Anna believed in family. At least, that was the impression she gave me, but now it seems she was hell-bent on punishment.’ She screwed her eyes up as she thought about it.

And they were still beautiful.

‘Punishing me, not you,’ he said.

‘But still...’ She stared at him with interest for a good few moments. ‘You must have really rattled her cage. But you did, by staying away so long.’

She wasn’t frightened of speaking her mind. The more he saw of her, the more she intrigued him. His original intention had been to send her sailing away from the island on a raft made of money. He doubted now he’d met her that she’d stand for that. She was intelligent and defiant, and also extremely attractive.

That sort of interest could get in his way. He couldn’t allow distractions like this girl to knock him off course. She was right about the will throwing everything into chaos. Doña Anna, of all people, should have known his limitations. He could make money hand over fist, but he’d make a lousy parent. Why try to saddle some poor child with a father who was incapable of feeling?

‘We’d better go to the house,’ he said, turning to the main point of his visit.

‘What? No,’ she said.

‘I beg your pardon?’ He swung around to see her digging her little toes into the sand.

‘You should have contacted me in the usual way—to arrange a meeting that didn’t involve a confrontation on the beach at dawn,’ she explained, frowning at him.

He dipped his head to hide a smile. People had been known to try and bribe his PA to secure a few minutes of his time. Rosie Clifton, on the other hand, was only short of his aunt’s walking stick to wave in his face as she did her best to drive him away. But her time was up now. However appealing he might find her, he was a busy man.

‘I said, no!’

He gazed at her with incredulity as she took the few steps necessary to dodge in front of him and block his way. ‘It’s not convenient,’ she explained, holding her ground.

Not convenient for him to tour his house, his island? An astonishing number of doors might have opened in the recent past for orphaned Rosie Clifton, but no door had ever closed in his face. He would visit his house, and he would tour his island. And then he would decide what to do about the girl.

‘Perhaps another time?’ she tempered, reacting to his thunderous expression no doubt. ‘Some time soon?’ she offered with the hint of a smile.

Her charm was wasted on him. ‘Some time now,’ he insisted, moving past her.


CHAPTER TWO (#u7b603109-7f4c-5eda-8bc7-18df1c1d2a97)

HE SHOULD HAVE known she’d race after him. When she grabbed hold of his arm, he felt the power of those tiny fingers as clearly as if they were stroking his groin. The thought of those hands clutching him in the throes of passion was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. Her touch was electrifying. And then there was her spirit. Rosie Clifton might not possess a fraction of his wealth or power, but she knew no fear. It was impossible for him not to admire her just a little.

‘You can come up to the house another time,’ she said, still hanging on to his arm as she stared up into his face. ‘We’ll make a proper appointment. I promise.’

‘Will we?’ he demanded with irony.

As he stared down her amethyst eyes darkened, confirming his growing suspicion that the attraction between them was mutual. And inconvenient, he reminded himself firmly. He wasn’t here for seduction. He had business with Rosie Clifton.

‘Neither of us is dressed for a formal meeting,’ she pointed out. ‘We won’t feel comfortable. And when there are such important things to discuss...’

He awarded her a point for a good, persuasive argument.

‘So...?’ Her beautifully drawn lips parted as she waited for his answer.

‘So I’ll come back,’ he agreed.

‘Thank you,’ she exclaimed with relief.

It was an error on his part. He had given her chance to prepare for the next time. His aunt must be laughing in her grave. Doña Anna couldn’t have planned this better, placing two people with the same aim—one an idealist, and the other a business mogul—in direct conflict with each other. Inwardly, he huffed a smile of admiration. He had to admit, this sort of mischief was right up her street.

‘Before you go...’ She nibbled on her lip.

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to know that I really loved your aunt.’

He shrugged. Should he care? Was she waiting for him to make some comment to echo this? He examined his feelings scrupulously and came up with nothing. The numbness inside him had been there since childhood, he supposed. He didn’t know how he felt about his aunt, though he might have known that nothing short of a dynasty would satisfy Doña Anna.

‘Your aunt brought you up, didn’t she?’ Rosie pressed.

‘Only because my parents preferred the fleshpots of Monte Carlo,’ he said with an impatient gesture that told her to leave the subject alone.

‘That must have hurt you,’ she said gently, as if she cared.

‘It was a long time ago.’ He frowned, hoping that would put her off.

It seemed to. She didn’t say anything more on the subject, but she looked at him with something close to pity, which annoyed him even more.

‘Your aunt said she threw you out when you were a teenager.’ She laughed, seeming to find this amusing. ‘She said it was the best thing she ever did for you—but then she was always teaching people lessons, including me.’

‘But not the type of lesson that would include holding your tongue,’ he murmured dryly.

She ignored him and continued. ‘Doña Anna said old money doesn’t last for ever, and that it’s up to each new generation to make its own luck in life. Which you’ve done in shedloads.’ Her eyes widened with admiration.

Only her innocence and complete lack of sophistication could allow for this, he thought as she went on to list his credentials. ‘First you made a fortune in the tech world, and then you made a second fortune building six-star hotels across the world with state-of-the-art golf courses attached.’ She frowned. ‘I imagine that’s why your aunt left me half the island—to stop you rampaging over here. Rumour says you’re a billionaire,’ she added with startling candour.

‘I don’t much care about that.’

‘She told me that too,’ she called after him as he began to stroll away from her towards the sea.

‘Was there anything she didn’t tell you?’ he said, stopping in his tracks.

‘Oh, I’m sure there were lots of things she left out...’

He could only hope.

‘Did she speak about me often?’ he asked. He was suddenly filled with a need to know. He felt a pang of regret as he asked the question, which was a first for him.

‘She did talk about you—quite a lot,’ Rosie revealed brightly, and with no malice he could detect. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,’ she said as he turned away.

‘You haven’t upset me.’ Pausing beside one of the gargantuan rocks on the beach, he leaned back against its smooth surface. Like it or not, the girl had brought the past back into clear focus.

‘I should get back,’ she said.

‘Do you swim here every day?’ he said, turning to look at her. Suddenly, he wasn’t so keen for her to go.

‘Every morning—I have done ever since I arrived on the island. Such a luxury,’ she said. Rolling her head back, she closed her eyes as if she was reliving each and every moment she’d spent in the surf.

The island must have been a revelation to her after the orphanage. He couldn’t imagine being brought up in an institution with no personal interest lavished on a person at all. At least he’d had Doña Anna. He was almost glad now that fate had intervened for Rosie Clifton. He would have had to be a heartless monster not to.

A visit to the orphanage by the royal patron of one of the charities he sponsored had led to Rosie being singled out. The prince had told Xavier that this particular girl had caught his attention because of her calm and resilient manner. He wondered now if Rosie’s luminous appearance had attracted the prince’s attention. That, and her obvious innocence. When the prince had first mentioned Rosie, he had thought immediately of his aunt and the possibility that a young girl might succeed where so many older, professional carers had failed. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Rosie Clifton would be quite so successful. He searched now for guile beneath the frankness of her stare, and found none. ‘Do you swim on your own in the sea?’

‘Why not?’ she countered pertly. ‘You did.’

When she cocked her head to issue the challenge, she somehow managed to look more appealing than ever. It was time to rein in his feelings before they started to cloud his judgement. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ he said, turning stern. ‘What if you got into trouble in the water?’

‘I can get into trouble on the land just as easily,’ she said.

As she masked her smile it was hard not to like her, which was everything he had vowed not to do. When she shrugged, drawing his attention to the womanly frame beneath the tightly bound towel, and to her slender shoulders with their sprinkling of freckles like gold dust on her skin, he knew he was in trouble.

‘One thing I learned as a child,’ she added frankly, ‘was how to keep my head above water.’

‘I have no doubt of that,’ he agreed as she tossed her hair back, sending the glistening waves cascading in a fiery cloud almost to her waist. ‘But you’re taking a big risk with your safety,’ he warned.

‘It’s not such a big deal if you know the seas around the island, is it, Don Xavier...?’

‘Touché,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted. ‘I swam here many times as a boy, but that doesn’t make it safe for you.’

‘Are you saying you’re a better swimmer than I am?’ There was both challenge and humour in her eyes now.

‘Enough!’ he insisted, knowing it was time to end this before she won him over completely. ‘Allow me to introduce myself formally. Don Xavier Del Rio, at your service...’

‘I doubt that somehow.’ She laughed. ‘And I don’t want you to be at my service. But I am pleased to formally meet you at last,’ she teased him. ‘Perhaps we can start over?’ She suggested this hopefully, extending a hand for him to shake. ‘Rosie Clifton,’ she declared, ‘at no one’s service.’

He laughed. ‘There’s never been the slightest doubt of that.’

As he brushed his lips against the back of her hand he felt her tremble. When he let her go, she quickly put her hands behind her back, as if to keep them out of mischief. She wasn’t so good at hiding her feelings, after all. He didn’t intimidate her. She didn’t feel particularly antagonistic towards him. She was naturally wary and inquisitive, but when he touched her, she was aroused. He wondered what new discoveries he would make about Rosie Clifton. Compliance must have been her best defence at the orphanage, and she would have had to be accommodating to keep her job with his aunt. She must have worked out by now that half an island was of no use to either of them, and he was curious as to where she thought they’d go from here. ‘What do you know about me, Rosie?’

‘Probably as much as you know about me,’ she said frankly. ‘I know you by reputation, of course. Who doesn’t? But as that’s only hearsay and I like to draw my own conclusions about people, I’m keeping an open mind right now.’

‘Should I thank you for that?’

‘Do as you like,’ she said easily. ‘I do know that everything you’ve achieved in life, you’ve done without anyone’s help. Doña Anna told me that too,’ she explained, unintentionally twisting the knife in the wound she’d inadvertently opened. He’d had enough of this. She was getting under his skin, making him feel too much. He couldn’t have that. ‘But that doesn’t tell me who you are, or if I can trust you—’

He sidestepped her and made for the house.

‘Hey!’ She chased after him as he headed for the cliff path. And, Dios, now she was standing in front of him.

‘Get out of my way, please,’ he instructed quietly.

‘No.’ Folding her arms, she said loud and clear, ‘You’re not going a step further. I told you already, it’s not convenient for you to visit the house.’

He could swing her over his shoulder and carry her there, but that would lead to nowhere good for Rosie Clifton, and maybe life had beat up on her enough. She was far too young and too innocent for him, with his sophisticated tastes in the bedroom. She featured nowhere on his agenda, other than to buy her off.

‘I said no,’ she warned again, when he went to move past her.

He stopped. She amused him. Her lips might be kissable, but they were currently set in such a firm, determined line. And now another question occurred to him: Was Rosie Clifton really as innocent as she looked? Had she been swept along by circumstances beyond her control, or was she a consummate actress who had managed to fool his aunt? Tricksters didn’t tend to have swindler tattooed on their brow. Either way, he would deal with Ms Clifton. If nothing more than good fortune and happy fate shone on Rosie Clifton, then a financial settlement to make her eyes water would soon get rid of her. If she was an idealist who believed she was saving the island from a ruthless playboy entrepreneur, namely him, then his cantankerous aunt had indeed met her match, and there would be trouble ahead—but not for him.

‘If you don’t get out of my way, I shall have to move you.’

Just the thought of taking that lithe, rebellious body in his arms was enough to whip his senses into an agony of lust, but she just laughed. ‘I’d like to see you try,’ she said.

He held up his hands, palms flat. He could wait. Except for the issue of the heir—he held all the cards and she held none. She couldn’t fight him through the courts. She lacked the money to do so. She was at his mercy. Even if he failed to produce an heir and his half reverted to her, she’d never have the money to continue to manage the island. Whichever way she turned, there was no future for Rosie Clifton on the island. The only fight she could put up was with words. They both knew the outcome was inevitable. He would own one hundred per cent of Isla Del Rey. It was just a matter of time. But there was no mileage in making her miserable.

‘Try to be reasonable,’ he suggested. ‘It’s important that I see the house as soon as possible to make an initial assessment of the changes that need to be made.’

‘What changes?’ she retorted. ‘The hacienda is perfectly serviceable as it stands.’

Rosie doubted anything had been refurbished or rearranged since the man who was making her body yearn for things it could hardly imagine had lived there as a boy. She had always thought the old house perfect. It wore the patina of age and regular use with such comfortable ease, reflecting everything that was cosy and special about the home Doña Anna had made for them both. What right did he have to come storming in, talking about change?

‘The sooner the better,’ he repeated, in what she gathered was his best attempt at a pleasant tone. He failed to charm her.

‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ she stated firmly.

He moved past her, but she caught up with him again. If it was possible for a man to grow taller and become more intimidating, he’d just done that.

‘You can’t keep me away for ever.’ His stern eyes heated every part of her, and, instead of resenting him, she found to her bemusement that she was excited. ‘Or had you forgotten I also own fifty per cent of this island?’ he demanded.

‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ she said, especially the bizarre terms of Doña Anna’s will. No wonder he was so angry. Those terms had left her flailing for the necessary finance to remain living on the island, and him needing an heir. She might be at her wits’ end, but his buccaneering lifestyle had been cut off at the root. ‘All I’m suggesting is a rain check. When we’ve both calmed down and we’re properly dressed for the occasion, I’d be pleased to show you around.’

Reason had always worked best for Rosie when she had encountered difficult situations at the orphanage. If there was one thing that living in an institution had taught her, it was the basic rules of survival. The most important rule of all was to make no ripples, and if she did, to smooth them over fast.

She shivered involuntarily as Don Xavier’s black stare licked over her. Her almost naked body was eager for more of his attention. Thankfully, she had more sense.

‘My PA will be in touch,’ he said coolly. ‘Once I’ve had a chance to inspect both the island and the hacienda, you will be invited to the mainland for a meeting, where we will discuss terms.’

What terms? When did she agree to this?

His dismissive gesture now suggested that it would be more convenient still if he could brush her under the table along with everything else he found superfluous in his life. She had no intention of going to the mainland for a meeting. His terms? His territory? She might be young, but she wasn’t stupid.

‘I’m not sure that will be convenient for me,’ she said bluntly. ‘And, as far as I’m aware, we have nothing to discuss. The terms of the will are quite clear.’

His expression blackened to a frightening degree. This was a man who wasn’t used to anyone disagreeing with him, she gathered.

‘Are you marooned on the island?’ he thundered.

‘No, but I have a lot on.’

‘Such as?’ he derided. ‘You’ve no funds—no income.’

‘I can accomplish a lot with hard work and no money,’ she argued. ‘And just because I’ve been turned down by lenders to date, doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I don’t think your aunt would give up. And I don’t think Doña Anna would leave me half this island unless she was confident I could sort things out.’

‘Your intention is to help the islanders market their organic produce, I believe?’

He was well informed. ‘Why not?’ She might as well put her stake in the ground now.

Maybe it would be better to soften her attitude and try to engage his support? Her main goal was to help the islanders, not herself, and if she didn’t control her feelings—feelings she usually had no trouble controlling—the next deputation to the island might include Don Xavier’s legal team.

Correct. And she couldn’t risk that. She had no funds to fight him. It was time to swallow her pride and make him feel welcome. Maybe if they worked at it they could find a solution together. She was no good at dressing things up, so she just said the first thing that came into her head. ‘If you come back tomorrow I’ll make you some ice cream.’

The look he gave her suggested she might as well have invited him to join her in a bondage session, complete with whips and masks.

‘Three o’clock tomorrow,’ he rapped. ‘And no ice cream.’


CHAPTER THREE (#u7b603109-7f4c-5eda-8bc7-18df1c1d2a97)

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Rosie’s heart was pounding with anticipation as she waited for Don Xavier to arrive. He might be cold and arrogant, but she was thrilled at the thought of seeing him again. She didn’t have much excitement in her life, but she’d always been a dreamer. And today Don Xavier was playing the starring role. Maybe it was his need for an heir that had stirred her imagination. How was he going to get one? The usual way, obviously—but with whom? He probably had hordes of glamorous girlfriends, but she couldn’t imagine him settling down.

In honour of his visit she was wearing her one good dress. She’d bought it in a thrift shop with the small allowance she’d received from the prince’s charity. The money was supposed to help her to prepare for her first placement. She’d spent most of it on books to help her understand the needs of the elderly, and the rest on ice cream as she worried about whether or not she’d be up to the job.

The dress was yellow, with a floating cotton skirt and fitted top. The colour didn’t do much for her freckled complexion and it clashed with her flaming red hair, but there hadn’t been much choice in her size. It was old-fashioned, but had seemed to Rosie’s untrained eye to be the type of dress that wouldn’t alarm an elderly lady searching for a discreet companion. Predictably, Doña Anna had hated it, calling it Rosie’s custard dress, but Rosie still thought it was pretty and low-key.

She stared out of the kitchen window, wondering if Don Xavier had changed his mind. Maybe his people would arrive instead, and try to drive her away. Her pulse raced with anger at the thought. He’d better come back and face her.

So far the sea was placid blue, and decidedly empty. There was no sleek black launch approaching, and no impossibly good-looking Spanish visitor powering through the waves towards her. But she was ready for whatever came next. She had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and was satisfied that it had never looked better. He couldn’t fail to be impressed. She had always longed for a house of her own to care for, and saw the work as a privilege rather than drudgery. And she would gladly kick her pride into touch if she could persuade him to give her a loan to help the islanders launch their plan to market their produce worldwide.

The more she reflected on this, the more she wondered about Doña Anna’s intentions when she drew up her will. Was this one last attempt to save Don Xavier from his empty, meaningless life? Or was that Rosie being romantic again? In her view, all the money in the world couldn’t buy the love and support of a family, and, if Don Xavier had only known it, Doña Anna had been waiting to welcome him back into her family home with open arms.

Brushing her hair away from her face, Rosie pulled away from the window. It looked as if he wasn’t coming. Her gaze lingered on the flowers she’d cut fresh from the garden that morning... Iceberg roses: pure white and lightly scented. The full, fat blooms thrived in clusters, just like the best families, she mused, smiling at the analogy. Not that she was an expert on either families or roses. The reason she loved the roses was for the way they thrust their scented heads so proudly above the weeds she hadn’t got round to pulling out yet. There were so many things on the island worth preserving.

Isla Del Rey had bewitched Rosie from the moment she’d stepped onshore. She had been instantly dazzled by the island’s beauty. It was so warm and sunny after the dreary cold of the city-centre orphanage where she’d grown up. There were sugar-sand beaches and vibrant colours everywhere, instead of unrelieved grey. And so much space and clean air to breathe. She had left a grimy city behind, and with it the restrictions of the orphanage. On the island, for the very first time in her life, she’d felt free. Best of all, she loved the people for the way they smiled and waved at her, as if they wanted to welcome her to their beautiful island home. Their cause had been her cause ever since.

Perhaps the biggest treat of all when she’d arrived had been the discovery that she would have a room to herself. And it was such a beautiful room. Light and spacious, Rosie’s new bedroom overlooked the ocean, which was like a dream come true. Another favourite place in the hacienda was the library, where Doña Anna had encouraged Rosie to read any book she liked. That was when Rosie had suggested reading to the old lady. From that day on they had shared many adventures together, and, even if those adventures were confined to the pages of a book, Rosie credited storytelling with bringing them closer.

The varying tales had prompted Doña Anna to reveal so many episodes from her life. Rosie’s experience of love and life had been practically zero up to then, but reading to Doña Anna had awoken in her a love for family, and a longing for the type of romance she was reading about in books. Love grew between the two of them during these regular sessions in the library. It made Rosie long for children of her own, so she could tell them about Doña Anna, and keep the memory of a very special woman alive. Her dream was that her children would pass on that memory to their children, so they would understand how lives could be turned around if just one person cared enough to make a difference.

When Doña Anna asked Rosie to stay on, making what was originally supposed to be a temporary position as housekeeper/companion permanent, it was the happiest day of her life. And the easiest decision she’d ever had to make, Rosie remembered. Doña Anna was the mother figure she’d never known. She loved the old lady for her prickly kindness, and for her generous heart.

She would always love her, Rosie reflected as she glanced at her wristwatch and frowned for the umpteenth time.

* * *

He glanced at the clock and ground his jaw. He had never been so impatient to get away from a meeting before, but he was itching to get back to the island.

And whose fault was that?

A pale, determined face, framed by a fiery cloud of shimmering red hair, came to mind. He resolutely blanked it. The last thing he needed was for the basest form of primal instinct to colour his renowned detachment.

And then there was Isla Del Rey, and his conflicting memories of the island, to further muddy the water. While ideas were batted between his team, he thought back. As a youth he had loathed the island for its restrictions. As a boy, he had associated the place with loneliness and disappointment, which was only made bearable thanks to the intervention of his aunt.

In fairness to his parents, they had never professed to love him. They never tired of telling him that he was both an accident and an inconvenience. Hope that they would one day learn to love him had taken a long time to die. He’d come home from school full of excitement at the thought of seeing them again, only to find them ready to leave as he arrived. Or they would promise to come and not turn up at all.

One day his mother told him to his face that everything he touched turned to dust. She’d been a beauty before he was born, loved by his father and feted by the world, but now, thanks to her son, Xavier, she was nothing. He had destroyed her. And when his seven-year-old self had begged her not to say such things, clinging to her hand as she left the room, she had shaken him off with disgust, and then laughed in his face when he’d started crying. No wonder he’d steered clear of romantic entanglements. He’d seen where they led.

Doña Anna had stepped into the breach, raising him, and encouraging him to make the best of the island—to swim around it, and to sail around it—and he’d enjoyed his first love affair on the beach. But though his aunt had told him on numerous occasions that his mother’s words were just the emotional outpourings of a troubled woman, those ugly words still rang in his head. He wasn’t capable of love. He was a jinx, a misfortune. He destroyed love—

He turned as Margaret, his second in command, coughed discreetly to attract his attention. ‘You want these plans acted upon right away, Xavier?’

‘That’s right,’ he confirmed.

She knew he’d been remembering. Margaret had an uncanny knack of sensing when he was wrestling the demons from the past.

‘And you want that done before you attempt a satisfactory settlement with Rosie Clifton?’

‘Do you doubt I’ll reach a settlement with the girl?’

Everyone but Margaret laughed at his remark. Margaret had read the will, so she knew he had to produce an heir. Two years was no time at all, she’d told him with concern written all over her face. What was he supposed to do? Pluck one out of thin air? The thought of breeding with one of the women he customarily dated held no appeal at all.

‘I think this is a tricky situation of a type we haven’t encountered before,’ Margaret now commented thoughtfully.

Tricky was the understatement of the year.

‘If you mean Ms Clifton fires on emotion, while I work solely with the facts, then you’re probably right,’ he conceded. ‘But surely, that guarantees a satisfactory outcome for our side?’

Whether Margaret agreed or not, he would go ahead with his plans. Who was going to stand in his way? Not Rosie Clifton, that was for sure—

Rosie Clifton...

He couldn’t get her out of his head. Just her name was enough to set his senses raging. He suspected that beneath her composure Señorita Clifton could whip up quite a storm...

‘I’ve never known you to be so distracted at a meeting,’ Margaret commented discreetly.

He noticed everyone was leaving the room, while he had been thinking about Rosie Clifton. He was glad there was an air of excitement. His team was like a pack of greyhounds in the traps, eager to chase up every detail in his plan.

‘You’re right,’ he agreed, standing to hold Margaret’s chair. ‘I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

Women had always been ornaments in the past, to be enjoyed and briefly admired. He had never thought of them as potential mothers to any children he might have. He’d never thought of having children, or settling down. Life had kicked that notion out of him. His best plan was to make Rosie Clifton an offer for her half of the island that she couldn’t possibly refuse.

She might refuse.

There was that possibility, he conceded now he’d met her. The figure he had in mind was substantial, but would she take it? She was an idealist with her own plans for the island. She knew his reputation for taking wasteland and transforming it into a site of unparalleled luxury, but to Rosie every inch of that island held magic and potential—and not for a six-star hotel.

‘Xavier...’

‘Yes, Margaret?’ He would trust this woman with his life. She was the only woman he would trust with his fortune. Margaret was his fifty-four-year-old financial director, an accountant with a steel-trap mind who could run circles around every bean counter he knew. It was thanks to Margaret that he could take time away from the business. As a judge of people she had no equal. What would Margaret make of Señorita Clifton? he wondered.

‘I knew the meeting might run over,’ she said as he held the door for her, ‘and so I took the liberty of ordering the chopper to be fuelled and ready for you. You can leave at once.’

Margaret’s second talent was for reading his mind. His mood lifted, and he smiled at her decadent English vowels. Years of drilling in a strict UK boarding school accounted for the precision of her accent, Margaret had once told him. He didn’t care. He’d forgive her anything. She was the one woman in his life who had never disappointed him. Nodding briefly, he smiled his thanks and then they both went their separate ways.

* * *

It was late afternoon. Rosie was sitting on the beach, staring out to sea as she dabbled her feet in the water. She kept telling herself she knew Don Xavier wouldn’t come.

She should be relieved he wasn’t coming. She wasn’t relieved. Part of her wanted to get their business over with as fast as she could, while another, far less worthy part of her just wanted to see him again. Her best guess was that he couldn’t admit—not even to himself—that the island still meant something to him, and so he had decided to stay away. She got that. She had difficulty with emotions, having hidden hers for years. She would have been laughed at when she lived at the orphanage if she had given away even a hint of her romantic dreams, but that had never stopped her dreaming. In fact, sometimes, she thought she was overburdened with dreams, but they had never turned her into a block of ice like Don Xavier.

Almost six o’clock! The day was flying away. It was time to go back to the house. The glaring light of a sultry Spanish afternoon was fast burning out to burnished gold. The sunset promised to be spectacular, which was the only thing holding her on the beach. The sky was an intense, almost metallic blue, while the first signs of dusk were appearing on the horizon in random drifts of fluffy pink clouds. The sea was so smooth it looked like a skating rink, as if the waves, having exerted themselves all day, couldn’t be bothered to crash on the shore, so they were creeping up it instead. She scrunched her toes in the wet sand, loving the sensation as she allowed the rhythmical sound of the waves to flitter across her eardrums. Even that wasn’t soothing. Her irritation about the missing guest was stronger. Don Xavier seemed to find it easy to walk away from things and she’d been looking forward to another verbal sparring match with him. They had to get together if they were going to sort out the future of the island, and they should do that as soon as possible. They had a duty to the islanders.

She had wanted a chance to make him understand how much she cared for the island, and how lucky she felt to have been given the chance to live here. Helping the islanders was just her way of thanking them for their kindness towards her. Her dream was to share the island one day with other young people who’d had no advantages in life. She guessed that would have to wait, as her tiny pot of money would run out soon—

A sound distracted her. She couldn’t identify it at first. Then she realised it was the sound of rotor blades approaching fast. As she sprang to her feet a gleaming black craft appeared over the cliff at the far end of the bay. She remained motionless as it wheeled onto its side, at what appeared to her to be an impossibly acute angle.

She exhaled with relief when it levelled off to skim the surface of the sea, driving up spumes of water in glittering clouds. It kept on coming towards her, and only wheeled away at the very last minute. Rising rapidly, it banked steeply before turning inland. The pilot seemed to be flying on the edge of what was possible.

So it could only be one man, Rosie reasoned. Who else would take such risks with his life and company property?

And she shouldn’t be here on the beach daydreaming, but up at the house ready to greet him—or to hold him off!

To hell with greeting him! She should be up at the house to establish her right to call the hacienda home—the only home she’d ever known. More importantly, the hacienda had meant everything to Doña Anna, and no patronising, nose-in-the-air grandee was going to bulldoze it, to build yet another of his glitzy hotels. Kicking off her flip-flops, she began to run.

Rosie scrambled up the cliff path as if the hounds of hell were after her, and she didn’t stop until she reached the boundary to the property—a fence she hadn’t realised was quite so broken down. She picked her way carefully through the broken struts of a barrier that was supposed to divide a once beautiful formal garden from the glorious wilderness. As of now, it was all glorious wilderness, she saw with concern.

Imagining Don Xavier seeing the same thing made Rosie wince. She’d known things were bad, but not this bad. She’d meant to do something about the garden, but had no money to pay a gardener, and there was so much to do inside the house. Any spare time she had was spent researching grants and subsidies for the islanders, to help them get their plans for marketing their organic produce off the ground.

She glanced up to see the helicopter hovering over the hacienda. It looked like a giant black hand come to claim its rightful property. Its shadow was like an omen. Descending slowly from the sky, it looked like a malevolent locust as it settled on its widespread skids. It seemed to Rosie to be the clearest signal yet that she had no money, no power, no influence, while Don Xavier Del Rio had a cash register for a heart. What was going to happen to the island if she didn’t stand firm? Why had Doña Anna set them against each other like this? She couldn’t have expected them to work together. Don Xavier would never consider it. Doña Anna hadn’t been exactly noted for her willingness to compromise, and yet that was what she expected them to do.

So was she going to disappoint the woman who had given her a fresh chance in life?

Drawing a deep steadying breath, Rosie smoothed her hair and straightened her dress, ready for her second meeting with Don Xavier.


CHAPTER FOUR (#u7b603109-7f4c-5eda-8bc7-18df1c1d2a97)

THE KITCHEN DOOR was open so he walked straight in. It smelled clean, but looked shabby. He leaned over the pristine sink to see if the window really was in as much danger of falling out as he’d first thought. He heard a faint noise behind him—just a breath, a slight shift in the air. He turned and she was there.

His good intentions counted for nothing. His body responded instantly to the sight of Rosie Clifton, his groin tightening as blood ripped through his veins. She was so young, so innocent—and so not his type, but it seemed that no argument he could put up could take anything away from her appeal. The low-slanting sun was shining straight into her face. She looked like an angel waiting to fall, in shades of white and gold—and yellow? As she came deeper into the kitchen he took more notice of the dress. It was a hideous dress that must have hung unloved in a thrift shop for years, but on Señorita Clifton it served a very definite purpose, which was to cling to her shapely form with loving attention to detail.

‘Don Xavier,’ she exclaimed in a calm, clear voice, walking forward to greet him.

‘Señorita Clifton.’ His tone was cool.

‘Rosie, please,’ she insisted, forming the words with the kissable lips he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind.

‘Rosie.’ He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of her arrival, and then he remained still, waiting for her to come to him.

He could try every trick in the book, but she was never dismayed. The power of her easy-going personality was undeniable. As she extended her tiny hand for him to shake, she tipped up her chin to look him in the eyes, and he felt the force of that stare in his groin, which didn’t just tighten now, but ached with the most urgent need.

‘Welcome to Hacienda de Rio,’ she said with a smile, as if he were the interloper. And then, having realised her mistake, instead of blushing or showing how awkward she surely must feel at the blunder, she put her hand over her mouth and giggled before exclaiming, ‘That was a bit of a clanger, wasn’t it?’

He stared coolly into her eyes, trying to read her. He could read every woman he’d ever met, from the mother who had barely made eye contact with him, to Doña Anna’s scathing and ironic stare, and, after them, the legions of women who knew very well how to flirt with their eyes; they were all transparent to him, but Rosie Clifton was an enigma, and she intrigued him. She was also extremely self-possessed for a girl from nowhere, who had owned nothing but the clothes she stood up in until a few weeks ago.

Seeing the cold suspicion in his eyes, she had taken a step back. Feeling the table behind her legs, she reached behind her to rest her palms on the scrubbed pine surface, making her breasts appear more prominent than ever. Had any other woman done the same thing, he might have wondered if it was an invitation, but Rosie Clifton only succeeded in making herself look younger and more vulnerable than ever. Perhaps that too was a ploy of sorts, he reflected.

‘So, you got here at last?’ she challenged him lightly.

He shrugged. ‘I came as soon as I could.’

She pressed her lips together in a wry, accepting smile. ‘Your aunt mentioned that you’re a workaholic.’

He had forgotten how self-possessed she was. But now there was a faint blush on her face, and her amethyst eyes had darkened. He watched her breathing quicken, displaying the shape of her full breasts quite graphically in the close-fitting dress.

‘This is, of course, as much your home as mine,’ she said candidly.

‘How kind of you to say so.’ He resisted the temptation to state the obvious: that his claim went back a thousand years.

‘You haven’t forgotten the ice cream I promised, have you? I made two flavours.’

Rosie wasn’t sure when she had decided to treat Don Xavier as a normal human being, rather than as an aristocrat with centuries of breeding behind him. They were wildly unequal in every sense, but, as nothing could change that, she had decided to be herself.

Maybe it was the Doña Anna effect, Rosie reflected as she reached for two bowls. In this one precious inheritance Doña Anna had made sure they were equals. The Spanish Grandee and the orphan housekeeper shared a huge responsibility thanks to the way that Doña Anna had drafted her will, but the more Rosie thought about it, the more it seemed to her that Don Xavier’s need for an heir gave her some leverage over him. She had no other power to wield, but he had a schedule to meet, or he would forfeit his fifty per cent of the island to her. Of course, she could just wait him out and hope he couldn’t produce an heir in the time specified, but she had no intention of wasting two years of her life hanging around for that. She wanted to get things moving on the island for the sake of the islanders as soon as she could.

Which, ideally, would mean working together, she thought, deflating somewhat when she caught sight of Don Xavier’s unsmiling face.

Dipping down, she reached into the freezer to pull out the boxes of ice cream. The air in the kitchen seemed to have frozen harder than the ice cream in the tub.

Whatever happened next, she wasn’t going to be railroaded into making any decision that didn’t feel right. She might have everything to learn about being a landowner, but Doña Anna had taught her not to be silent and accepting, but to question everything.

‘Vanilla,’ she announced, prising the lid off the tub. ‘And Doña Anna’s favourite—fresh strawberry. I picked the fruit from the garden this morning—’

‘I haven’t come here to eat ice cream,’ the towering monument to privilege and wealth currently occupying her kitchen coldly stated.

He hadn’t expected Rosie to be so relaxed on this second meeting, Xavier realised. She’d had time to think about things, and must surely realise the hopelessness of her situation. He was stationed at one end of the kitchen table, while she was at the other, and she didn’t seem concerned at all. As she opened a drawer to reach for a serving spoon he put the documents he’d brought with him very prominently on the table.

She didn’t look at them once—or didn’t appear to, but then she baited him with a level stare. ‘These look official,’ she said, moving them out of the way so she could arrange her dishes. ‘They look like the type of papers that won’t bring anyone any happiness. “Beware of lawyers, ” Doña Anna used to tell me. “Trust no one but yourself, Rosie.” So...what flavour would you like?’

He was taken aback for a moment. He had dealt with many difficult situations in business, but nothing like this. ‘What else did Doña Anna warn you about?’

‘Honestly?’ she said, pulling an attractive face as she thought about it for two seconds. ‘Nothing. Not you. Not anything. I think she must have trusted me to get on with things. And at the end, when she was dying, and I knew I was about to lose the best friend I’d ever had, the last thing on my mind was lawyers, or wills.’

He believed her.

‘I’ll look at the documents later,’ she said, ‘if that’s all right with you?’

And if it wasn’t all right with him, she would still look at the documents later, he guessed. In fairness, nothing would bounce him into doing anything in a hurry, so he couldn’t argue with that.

‘There is one thing I feel compelled to do,’ she said, ‘and I hope you’ll go along with me in this one little thing...’

‘That depends what it is,’ he said.

If they never did anything else together, they would do this, Rosie determined. The ceremony she had in mind held as much significance for her as toasting the life of a loved one in champagne at a wake. Taking a moment to celebrate the life of a very special woman, who had done so much for both of them, before normal hostilities were resumed shouldn’t be too much to ask. It was time to find out.

‘No ice cream for me, thank you.’ Don Xavier put up his hand as if to ward off the scoop of ice cream she was offering him.

Her stomach was clenching with apprehension, but she’d started so she’d finish. ‘I’m afraid I must insist.’

‘You must insist?’ he said, scanning her face as if he thought she’d gone mad.

‘I don’t have any champagne to toast your aunt,’ Rosie explained, ‘and as Doña Anna loved ice cream, I thought we could both take a moment to remember her.’

Her throat was so tight by the time she’d finished this little speech she couldn’t have argued with him if she’d tried, so it was a relief when he reached for the bowl. Lifting her own bowl, she proposed huskily, ‘To Doña Anna...’

A muscle flexed in Don Xavier’s jaw, and then—and she was sure she wasn’t mistaken—the faintest hint of amusement sparked in his eyes. So he was human after all. ‘I’m sure if we do this together, we can do more things together,’ she prompted as she waited for him to start eating. She had to stop herself exclaiming with relief when his firm mouth closed around the spoon.

‘Doña Anna,’ he murmured, holding her gaze until heat flared inside her.

‘Doña Anna,’ she repeated, trying not to meet his eyes as she wondered what else he could do with that sexy mouth. He was just so unreasonably hot. She had never been alone with such a good-looking man before, let alone so close to him. Her ideal was based on the heroes in the books she used to read to Doña Anna, and they were all big and dark and dangerous too.

And that was quite enough rambling off-track for one day, Rosie warned herself firmly. If Don Xavier had made the slightest move she’d have run a mile.

‘Are we done here?’ he asked, dipping his head to bait her with his piercing stare.

‘Yes, I think so. Thank you for that.’ Her body thanked him very much. She was tingling with awareness.

* * *

He wanted to smear her with ice cream and lick it off slowly. He wanted to lay her down on the kitchen table and attend quite thoroughly to Señorita Clifton’s every need. He wanted to explore every hungry part of her body slowly. He could certainly see some use for the ice cream. The contrast of heat and cold would be a torment to her—to him too, but that torment would end with pleasure so extreme, they would never forget it.

‘The tour?’ he prompted, shaking himself around.

‘Of course.’ She smiled primly into his eyes, but he couldn’t help wondering what was going on behind that lambent gaze.

Why did the one woman in the world he needed to eject from his life as efficiently and quickly as possible have to be so desirable, and so ready for seduction?




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