A Spanish Inheritance

Ramon went very still. ‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked softly.

‘I don’t know… No! I just had to know how you’d react if—’

His hands shot up to cradle his head, and then swept down again in an angry gesture of denial. ‘Stop it, Annalisa,’ he warned. ‘I thought we had a better understanding than this—’

Her short contemptuous sound cut him off. ‘An understanding? Is that what we have?’

‘You know what I mean,’ he insisted angrily. ‘You know how I feel—’

‘Oh, do I?’ Annalisa demanded as she shot to her feet. ‘And how would I know that, exactly?’

‘Haven’t I proved my feelings for you with everything I do?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, feeling her chest constrict as ghosts from the past refused to let her see past her own insecurities. ‘You haven’t mentioned love once.’

Briefly he looked shaken. ‘You want a sonnet a day?’

‘I want—’ Annalisa began angrily. Then, breaking away, she rushed to the bathroom before he could see that she was crying. ‘I don’t know what I want!’

‘That’s right. Run away,’ she heard him shout after her.

She stopped by the door, her hand on the wall, steadying herself. ‘I’m not running anywhere, Ramon. I’m here to stay. Get used to it.’

When she emerged some time later the bedroom was empty. Standing uncertainly in the centre of the room, Annalisa waited, listening. She felt some of the tension ease when she heard Ramon moving about downstairs. But then it returned again when she thought how much she wanted him…but not on any terms. She owed him so much, but that didn’t mean she had to adopt his views on the past, or accept a role on the sidelines of his life.

She put off drying her hair and dressed quickly in a pair of decent shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.

Wearing just his jeans and a close-fitting top, Ramon had made himself comfortable in one of her easy chairs. Holding a mug of coffee in one hand, he was reading the local paper with his long legs stretched out and his bare feet resting against Fudge’s back. He looked up. His expression was as uncompromising as her own.

This was never going to be easy, Annalisa realised. They were both strong. Both equally determined they were right. ‘Lunch?’

‘Coffee’s fine.’

‘Can I get you something else?’ she said, crossing to help herself from the pot.

‘I have to get back.’

‘Of course.’ She tried not to let it matter.

‘Why don’t you come with me?’

She managed not to choke—just. The casual invitation flew in the face of all her suspicions. If this was a game of chess she was in check. ‘OK. Why not?’

‘Ten minutes suit you?’ he said, shooting a glance at his watch. ‘I’ve sent for the car.’

‘Fine,’ she agreed evenly.

‘Someone will collect the horse while we’re gone.’

‘Should I ask Maria Teresa to see to Fudge?’

‘It wouldn’t hurt.’

‘Am I all right dressed like this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do I need anything?’

‘Only you can answer that, Annalisa,’ Ramon said as he got up to put his mug in the sink.

His distance was like a reproof. Was this his way of punishing her for stepping over the mark…for demanding too much of him? She felt her emotions shift gear as frustration and anger gathered in her throat. There were two ways to answer the challenge: she could lose control again, or accept that the type of relationship Ramon wanted cut both ways; you surrendered nothing, you gained nothing. ‘I’ll just make that call,’ she said.

Stepping over the threshold of Ramon’s home was very different from her first visit. This time Rodriguez bowed to her as he opened the door.

‘I’ve got a few calls to make,’ Ramon said as they stood side by side in the hall. ‘Take a look around while you wait.’

‘You’re sure—?’

‘I had the run of your place. I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home. Please show Señorita Wilson into the library,’ he said, turning to Rodriguez. ‘There are plenty of interesting early volumes in there for you to root through,’ he said, turning back to her. ‘First editions… Ben Jonson…’ The look on her face drew an ironic half-smile from him. ‘See you in a minute,’ he said quietly.

And then she was following Rodriguez into a large airy room overlooking the sea. It didn’t look much like a library.

‘The air-conditioning is not working in the library, Señorita Wilson,’ Rodriguez explained. ‘But you will be equally comfortable in here. Ring for me if you need anything,’ he added, pointing to an ivory velvet pull-cord in one corner of the room.