Kat And The Dare-Devil Spaniard

‘Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on, Kat?’ he began ominously.

Kat opened her mouth to start explaining when it suddenly hit her that she didn’t have to. She didn’t have to do anything. Not any more. Maybe in the past she had run away from her responsibilities—and maybe her father’s set of Rules had helped her see her life in a different light. Or maybe Carlos had. But she wasn’t running now. Even if she wanted to—which she didn’t—running was no longer an option. She was going to be a mother. She was going to have Carlos’s baby and she was going to have to learn to stand on her own two feet. And that meant that the rest of the Balfours were really going to have to butt out and leave her to get on with it.

Without thinking about it, her fingers of one hand drifted to her stomach and she let them rest there—almost protectively—looking up to see a sudden flare of light in the ebony eyes which were fixed on her.

She turned her lips back to the mouthpiece. ‘Actually, I don’t really want to talk to anyone at the moment, Daddy,’ she said steadily.

‘But—’

‘No buts. I’m fine.’ She listened to her father for a minute, acutely aware of Carlos’s intense scrutiny. ‘Yes, he’s here. With me. No, Daddy. No. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days. Yes. I promise.’

Slowly, she replaced the receiver and Carlos saw the wariness in her eyes as she regarded him—as if expecting him to start interrogating her again. His mouth hardened. And maybe she had good reason to think that.

The phone began to ring once more and, seeing her eyes close wearily this time, Carlos snatched up the receiver, his eyes narrowing as he listened. ‘Yes?’

‘Carlos! It’s Tania Stephens here,’ came the throaty voice of a woman. ‘I’m the one who left my bikini on your yacht and wondered if you’d just like to—’

‘No comment,’ he snarled, slamming it down again, and when it began to ring again almost immediately he took it off the hook. Was this what it was going to be like? he wondered. With the phone ringing and the press clamouring and Kat getting bigger. Living out her pregnancy in the middle of the city, with that cold and un-approachable air about her while the media-hungry world closed in.

There was a solution to the problem which lay before them, he realised slowly. But only if Kat would agree to it—and that was by no means certain. ‘I can find you somewhere safe to stay,’ he said slowly. ‘Somewhere the press won’t bother you.’

She looked up. ‘Where?’

‘That’s up to you, Princesa. I can give you several options. I have places pretty much all over the world you can choose from.’

‘With you, you mean? You’ll be coming with me?’ she questioned in a cool voice, as if she didn’t care one way or the other. Because the last thing she wanted or needed to feel right now was disappointment when he told her that, no, he’d be leaving her alone to face the coming months.

Carlos expelled a breath. ‘Well, that depends,’ he said slowly. ‘On whether or not you want me there.’

There was a pause while the question hung in the air.

Don’t make yourself vulnerable, Kat told herself. Don’t open yourself up to yet more pain. ‘If you want,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I don’t really care either way.’

Carlos met the blue of her dazzling eyes which now seemed as cold as a winter sky. She had agreed to leave the spotlight of the city and he was going with her.

His mouth hardened. It may have felt a little l

ike a victory, he thought, but it seemed a very hollow one.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HE TOOK her to a house she recognised, though it took a moment or two for Kat to realise why.

‘It’s the house in the painting!’ she exclaimed, her heart lifting with an unexpected kind of delight. ‘The one in your study on the yacht.’ The one she used to gaze at when she was transcribing recipes during a time which now seemed like light years ago.

‘It is indeed. My hacienda,’ said Carlos softly.

Standing in the doorway of the lovingly cared-for old house, surrounded by a shaded veranda decked with flowers and foliage, Kat looked out at the stunning Andalusian countryside. Outside were orchards of Carlos’s very own oranges and lemons—which scented the soft, warm air. And in nearby pastures overlooking distant mountain peaks lived his beloved Andalusian horses which people came from all over the world to buy.

Despite her mixed emotions, Kat thought she had never seen anywhere more lovely in her life. It seemed so solid and real—so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. And it made her feel indescribably wistful for a life she had never known and probably never would. A life with deep roots and the promise of longevity.

‘So what do you think of my home?’ asked Carlos, as he came out of the house to find her standing there, perfectly still. They’d travelled down earlier that afternoon on the jet he’d hired, and Kat had just drunk tea and eaten from a dish of fruit which his housekeeper had served to them.

She turned to face him. ‘I think it’s beautiful.’

‘So why the troubled look?’

Was he completely dense, Kat wondered, or did he just have the ability to completely switch off? Maybe with men it was different—or maybe it was just different for Carlos. Beneath her outwardly calm exterior she could feel the riot of emotions which were as tangled as an old ball of string, but presumably he suffered no similar disquiet as he contemplated their uncertain future.