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As the carved wooden door closed behind Doha Elvira, Rosie looked round the rooms she’d been given and gave a soft sigh of relief. A whole suite of rooms, combining luxury and taste, bowls of fresh flowers to perfume the air, and one set of windows to look out on to an inner courtyard and another set to give her views of the surrounding countryside and a glimpse of the distant sea. She wasn’t expected to surface for another two hours, when dinner was due to be served. After Sebastian had been called away to the phone, her chat with his mother had been really calming. With skill and a huge dose of charm the older woman had drawn all sorts of things out of her. Her humble origins, the reason she’d had to give up her place at university where she’d intended to read sociology. The dilemma she now faced: should she try for another place and take out a student loan or continue to work for Jean to fund evening classes at the local college and end up as a secretary?
‘I’m quite sure all that will take care of itself,’ Dona Elvira had murmured, covering Rosie’s hand with her own. ‘You will see.’
Nice thought. Rosie gave a wry smile. But life didn’t work like that, did it? If you left everything to fate, as the older woman had seemed to be suggesting, then nothing would ever get done, would it?
Thankfully, she removed her warm jacket and didn’t have time to put it back on again as Sebastian walked in after the briefest of raps.
Instinctively, she folded her arms over her breasts. His brilliant eyes gleamed. I have seen you wearing much less. But I like it when you blush. However—’ he moved towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders ‘—I know how nervous you are. I have forced you into a situation not of your liking. I have made decisions for you.’ His eyes probed her flushed face, and Rosie had the strongest urge to fling her arms around him and tell him not to worry; it didn’t matter. She would face whatever had to be faced if he could stop being angry with her.
‘The matter does have to be resolved. But not tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough, when you are more rested. So tonight you may eat your dinner without fear of terminal indigestion!’
Rosie’s legs decided to turn into water and her tummy flipped right over. When he smiled like that she went into emotional melt-down. She trembled, every nerve-ending leaping with wicked response to this achingly gorgeous man, but he merely touched her lips briefly with his own, then gave her a shuttered look, swung round and exited the room like a man with a pack of demons on his heels.
Refusing to let herself get into a mental tangle by trying to work out what went on in his mind to provoke such contradictory behaviour, she went through the motions of undressing and drawing a bath. But half an hour spent in a marble tub that was almost big enough to swim in, admiring the mirrored walls, the green marble floor and the exotic pot plants, produced a mood of calm acceptance.
She wouldn’t be here long enough to get used to such luxury.
After she’d been sprung on Marcus she’d be put on the first flight home. He couldn’t kill her for being his unwanted daughter! And, as for Sebastian, it was time she started thinking like an adult woman instead of a love-struck teenager.
All he was probably used to was sex for the sake of it with any woman who was willing and took his fickle fancy. He would run far more than the proverbial mile if he discovered she had fallen in love with him.
And as long as she kept that firmly in mind she’d be all right.
Get over it. Get on with her life. And, if she did turn out to be pregnant, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Not wanting to dwell on that tricky subject and get herself more wound up than she already was, she hauled herself out of the bath and, wrap
ped in one of the huge bath sheets, padded through into the bedroom.
And stopped short, her huge eyes filled with enquiry as the woman who’d been staring out of one of the windows turned towards her.
‘I did knock but you can’t have heard me. So I came in to wait.’
‘You don’t mind? Terrina Dysart—’ She walked forward as she smilingly introduced herself. ‘Marcus’s fiancee. I was told you’d arrived and I did so want to meet with you.’
Clutching her towel, Rosie took the outstretched hand and returned a smile. So this was the woman her father was planning to marry. She was lovely, glossy as a catwalk model, beautifully packaged in a flame-coloured shift, the chestnut hair—commonly described as big—artfully arranged around her shoulders. Rosie felt quite pallid by comparison.
‘So—’ The scarlet smile widened, showing teeth as even and white and perfect as a toothpaste advertisement. ‘You are Sebastian’s lady. I approve! It is time he settled down.’
If only! Rosie felt a regrettable juvenile blush spreading all over her body. Is that what they all thought, that she was the Spaniard’s woman? Impossible to explain who she really was and why she was here at this stage, before tomorrow morning’s confrontation with Marcus.
Thankfully, Terrina didn’t appear to expect a confirmation of her statement. She settled gracefully on to a silk-covered chaise and opined, ‘It’s just a duty visit, I suppose? You and Sebastian won’t be staying long—it gets pretty boring after a while. I’m hoping to persuade Marcus to take me to Milan to shop for a trousseau.’
‘That sounds fun.’ Rosie hoped that was the right thing to say.
She felt like a lemon, standing here wrapped in a towel, trying to make light conversation with the woman Marcus was to marry, her eyes prickling with tears because she couldn’t help thinking of her mother.
If Terrina was the type her father admired, then what had he been doing with someone like Molly Lambert, the unsophisticated gardener’s daughter, who had liked nothing better than grubbing about in the soil, helping things to grow?
‘I ought to get dressed for dinner.’ Rosie felt it was time to make an effort to show she was in control of something. ‘Dona Elvira said my case had been brought here, but I can’t see it.’
‘Paquita will have unpacked for you.’ Terrina rose to her feet and swayed over to an enormous walk-in wardrobe. ‘Problem solved!’ She riffled amongst the hangers, exclaiming, ‘Classy! I must say, you do have fabulous taste. Go for this—’ She held out a smoky-grey knee-length sleeveless chiffon dress with a discreetly plunging neckline. ‘You will look perfect—a lovely foil for my orange thing!’ She wrinkled her narrow nose. I tend to go for look-at-me colours. I’ll have to learn to be more decorous when I’m the lady of the manor!’
The sudden flicker of uncertainty in the long brown eyes had Rosie quickly asserting, ‘You mustn’t think like that. I think you look fantastic. You are what you are. You shouldn’t try to change a single thing.’
Sebastian had tried to change her, tried to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. And just look where it had got her. Nowhere!
‘Really?’ The brown eyes widened.
