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“I have no idea what is or is not my concern until I’ve talked with Madeira.”
“Until we’ve talked with him. This situation is intolerable. It must end.”
Intolerable, Lucas thought. Being with him. Making love with him. Learning she was betrothed to him. Intolerable, all of it.
She was right. Of course, she was right…
Frowning, he leaned forward.
“There’s no traffic,” he told Paolo sharply. “Surely we can go faster.”
The road wound through lush green countryside dotted with elegant villas and, tucked back among stands of orange and encina trees, enormous mansions.
Signs flashed by. Marbella was just ahead.
That explained the scent of the sea. Alyssa had never been to Spain but she knew Marbella was in the south, on the Mediterranean, facing across a narrow strip of it to North Africa and the mysteries of Tangiers.
She knew this was the gold coast, the home and playground of fabulously rich Spaniards and Europeans. Horses were expensive to breed and raise, the Andalusians of the quality the Reyes name was known for took “expensive” up another notch, and the cost of the Reyes acreage would be extraordinary.
Of course, the prince could afford it. He had no heart but he had money, power and arrogance enough for a thousand men.
“Most Andalusian breeders ranch further inland but I prefer the La Concha foothills.” Lucas gave her a level look when she turned toward him. “That’s what you were wondering, wasn’t it? Why I breed horses here?”
“Why should I think about your horses at all?”
“Because you claim to be a horsewoman.”
“I am a horsewoman, señor.”
“Most certainly.” His words dripped sarcasm. “I could tell that by the way you handled that black monster.”
“Bebé has fine bloodlines. And he was not at fault!”
“Bebé has the bloodlines of brontosaurs but you’re right, he was not at fault. You were.”
“That shows how little you know about me.”
Lucas smiled coolly. “I know more about you than most men, don’t I, chica?”
Alyssa turned crimson. “I was wrong when I called you a pig. They’re actually intelligent creatures with bad press. Exactly the opposite of you.”
Hell. He couldn’t blame her for taking offense but, damn it, he was still angry. If only he could clear his head of the image of her, naked in his arms. Naked, and trembling, and pleading for his possession…then telling him, in a voice that would have frozen tap water, to get off her.
The time to have done that was when he realized she was a virgin but he was a man, not a saint. So he’d taken what she had offered.
Afterward, lying with her still in his arms, he’d felt a tenderness that was new to him, and a hunger to make love to her again.
First, though, he’d wanted to tend to her. Gently, with a warm, damp cloth. He’d wash her, kiss away any soreness.
Instead she’d insulted him. Made it clear what had happened had meant nothing to her. That had infuriated him, and he’d responded in kind. Which was just as well, he thought as the Rolls-Royce slowed, then stopped in a square lined with white stucco villas and palm trees.
It had sent him to the phone to make this appointment.
Paolo opened the door. Lucas stepped out and offered his hand to Alyssa, who ignored him.
“I thought your attorneys were in Madrid.”
“They are. Madeira would have flown down here, of course—”
