A Spanish Vengeance

‘Oh, just business,’ Isabella said disappointedly as Diego steered her back towards the house. ‘How horribly boring.’

Lisa followed on leaden legs. Diego was cutting her out of his life, that much was painfully obvious. But what else could she have expected after the things she’d accused him of? His Spanish pride wouldn’t forget such insults to his integrity.

She had woken to a day that had seemed to be so full of promise, sure that they could reclaim the joyous, loving happiness they had both thought they’d lost. Now there would be no lazing about on the beach he had spoken of, no making love, no talking, no way of discovering if he really did still care for her.

Her shoulders slumped and not even the Spanish sun burning into her back could thaw the ice that was forming around her heart. If he had started to believe that there was still something very special between them, then she’d certainly put paid to that by opening her big mouth on a spate of wild accusations. It certainly looked that way from where she was standing and she couldn’t come out with it and ask, not with Isabella around.

Following the other two, Lisa took her place at the table in the small salon where Rosa had produced dishes of scrambled eggs and mushrooms, the usual crusty rolls with a choice of fillings, cured ham, crisp sweet tomatoes, cheese and anchovies.

‘I am dying of hunger!’ Isabella declared theatrically, opening her starched white napkin with a flourish. ‘All my own fault, of course. I couldn’t eat a thing after I believed my darling Cesar was betraying me with another! How could I have been so silly? He will be so cross with me. I shudder!’

She didn’t seem exactly fazed by the prospect,

Lisa thought tiredly as she took a roll she didn’t want and began to crumble it on her plate. Diego didn’t appear to have much appetite, either. He just sliced a tomato up on his plate and drank several cups of coffee.

Rousing herself to make an effort—it was entirely her own fault that Diego had washed his hands of her so she had to accept it and not wallow in self-pity and sit here like a mute lump of misery—she asked over-brightly, ‘What time do you expect your husband, Isabella?’ She guessed that Diego would remain politely distant with her until they were alone again, then arrange for her own departure in double quick time.

‘Diego?’ Isabella had polished off the eggs and was piling a roll with thin slices of ham. ‘What do you think? Mid-afternoon?’

‘Maybe sooner.’

Dio! The sooner the better! If he’d had his wits about him earlier he’d have told Cesar he’d drive his scatty wife back to Seville himself. At least he’d have been doing something constructive. Instead of just sitting around waiting, carefully not looking at Lisa because when he did he had a battle royal on his hands, wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she agreed to be his wife. He could have insisted she came with them, so that she’d have no opportunity to leave, as she’d been on the point of doing.

Edgily, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet, his hard jawline grim. Isabella dabbed her mouth with her napkin and said, ‘Are you in a bad temper? Am I being a nuisance? Do tell if I am.’ She tilted her head coquettishly, her accompanying smile saying she couldn’t believe she could possibly have any nuisance value to anyone. ‘If you and Lisa want to have your business meeting, or whatever, then please go ahead. I won’t listen if it’s supposed to be secret!’

‘My discussions with Lisa can wait,’ he answered tersely. Taking up that suggestion, whisking Lisa away for a bogus business meeting in the library, was more than tempting. But he couldn’t trust his inquisitive, easily bored sister not to barge in on them. Probably at a critical moment. So he’d just have to curb his impatience, grit his teeth and wait it out.

He said, ‘I’ll ask Rosa to take fresh coffee to the courtyard. I’ll join you there shortly.’

Watching his smooth stride, the proud angle of his handsome head as he walked from the room, Lisa felt her eyes blur with tears. She knew what form the discussion he’d mentioned would take.

Would he accept her heartfelt apologies? Probably. With a formal, chilling courtesy. But all the grovelling apologies in the world wouldn’t change a single thing. The damage had been done. His current attitude towards her, the way he deliberately refused to even look at her was proof of that.

‘Pouff!’ Isabella patted her slender midriff. ‘I eat too much. I soon will burst! Shall we do as ordered?’ She tucked her arm through Lisa’s as they both rose from the table. As they strolled together to the inner courtyard Lisa knew that under any other circumstances she would have enjoyed this woman’s lively company. They might have become really good friends.

Pausing by the central fountain, gently splashing into the shallow stone basin, Isabella dabbled her fingers in the cool water. ‘I am always telling Diego he must have a pool put in this place. At least then there would be something to do.’ She shrugged her elegant shoulders. ‘But he always tells me something so modern wouldn’t fit the whatever you call it—ambiente.’

‘Atmosphere?’ Lisa supplied gently. ‘I think he’s right. There’s something so timeless about this ancient place. It would be a pity to spoil it. ‘

‘Then I am outnumbered! Diego must be right when he calls me a barbarian!’ Her wide white grin was stunningly unrepentant. ‘But of course he has the swimming pool at his so modern home near Jerez. I am surprised he didn’t invite you there for your business meeting. Or book you into a hotel, one belonging to our family, naturally, as is usual with his business associates.’

The dark eyes were dancing with sardonic little lights but Lisa managed a throwaway shrug as if she didn’t understand what Isabella was getting at. But of course she did. She obviously had her doubts about her brother’s assertion that Lisa’s presence here at his isolated and private hideaway had something to do with her father’s business.

The water danced with flashing lights. The sun beat down on her head. The paving stones seemed to tilt beneath her feet. The scent of the flowers that rambled over the old stone walls and billowed from the dozens of planters was suddenly overpowering. Lisa raised an unsteady hand to her temple. She was feeling strangely dizzy. She should have forced herself to eat something…

‘Oh—you are engaged to be married?’

Did Isabella sound disappointed? Not possible, surely? She had to be imagining it. Lisa’s aching brow pleated as the other girl took her hand and examined Ben’s ring. She had forgotten she was wearing it. It was nothing like as grand as the huge emerald Isabella sported next to her wide gold wedding band.

‘So when is the big day? Are you soon to be married? To an Englishman back home? Or to someone else, someone I might know?’ the Spanish girl enquired archly.

‘Sorry?’ Lisa’s eyes clouded as she attempted to sift through the spate of questions with a brain that was suddenly assaulted by a headache of unprecedentedly vicious proportions.

‘Are you to marry your Englishman soon?’ Isabella persisted as Rosa appeared at the far side of the courtyard to deposit a tray of fresh coffee on the table beneath the fig tree.

‘Yes,’ Lisa stated as firmly as she could, given the way she was feeling—all wobbly and feeble, her head pounding. It was a silly weak lie, of course, but it should stem the spate of eager intrusive questions. Saying no would involve explanations about the broken engagement, her reasons for still wearing her ex-fiancé’s ring, explanations that she didn’t feel up to making right now. She felt with draining misery that she would never want to talk to anyone about anything ever again.

‘Move into the shade.’ Diego’s command was ferociously taut. The sound of it, right behind her, made Lisa jump out of her skin.