Santos loved the feel of her body against his. He loved every ounce of her—her perfumed hair, silken skin, lacquered nails and delicious lips. He remained still beneath her. “No two men are exactly the same,” he breathed out in a contented sigh.
Ana moved astride his hips. “I didn’t say you were the same, and that’s enough of such a tiresome subject.”
He slid his hands into her robe and ran his fingertips over the soft swell of her breasts. They were her own rather than surgically enhanced and fit his palms perfectly. “All right. You really should have been with me tonight. How long do I have to wait for you to appear in public with me?”
She thumbed his nipples. “Not yet. It would embarrass your father, and he doesn’t deserve it at such a sad time. Now tell me what Rafael Mondragon thought of your American sister.”
“I didn’t pay any attention to him and neither did anyone else. Magdalena simply mesmerized the crowd.”
“And sent you running for my bed,” Ana countered.
Santos wound his hands in her hair to pull her toward him. When their lips were a whisper apart, he asked, “Would you rather have had Mondragon tonight?”
Ana stared at him a moment too long, and, unwilling to provide her with more time to contemplate another man’s affections, he rolled over and pinned her beneath him. “I should have given you back to my father months ago.”
His lips burned hers with a searing kiss, and she wrapped her legs around his thighs to welcome his thrusts, but he knew as long as his father was alive, he’d be in the bed with them. Even after Miguel died, Santos feared his ghost would haunt them still.
Chapter Five
Maggie joined her father at the small table on his balcony for a breakfast of freshly baked biscuits and melon slices. It was the Spanish custom to begin the day with a small meal followed later with the more substantial fare of an omelet or sandwich. She sipped her café con leche and sampled a few biscuit crumbs.
“The sea is a beautiful woman,” Miguel swore. “I love her in all her moods—violent, serene, brooding. Had I not wanted to follow my father into the bullring, I would have gone to sea.”
He was dressed in dark blue silk pajamas and robe today, but his gestures were sluggish, as though he hadn’t slept well. He had little appetite, and that worried her. She hated to be fussed over and assumed he would as well, so she kept her concerns to herself. She took a last bite of melon and wished she had an intelligent comment to make, but her father seemed content with the one-sided nature of their conversation.
“I’ve owned several yachts but sold them all, or I’d have Santos take you sailing.”
“That’s all right. I’d much rather just stay here with you.”
“Thank you.” Miguel raised his hand to cover a wide yawn. “Forgive me if I’m not very good company today. Dr. Moreno should be here soon. Perhaps you could come back later.”
“Of course.” Disappointed to be dismissed, Maggie left her chair. “Is Moreno your cardiologist?” Her fath
er’s expression darkened, and she wished she’d had sense enough to keep still. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You needn’t apologize. Your concern is natural and appreciated. Antonio is a cardiologist and an excellent surgeon as well. I’ve been gored several times, and he’s stitched me back together. He’s a good friend, and no physician could do more than he has.”
Maggie gripped the back of her chair for support. “My God, I’d no idea you’d ever been gored.”
Miguel shrugged off her fright. “It’s a regrettable occupational hazard. Did you know every matador has fans who donate blood in exchange for free seats at a corrida?”
She slumped back into her chair. “Just give me a minute, please. There was a time when bullfighting fascinated me, but I was just a child with no real concept of the danger you faced. It all seemed wonderfully romantic, but now I couldn’t bear to watch a bullfight.”
“Santos will be badly disappointed. He’s quite good and would enjoy showing off for you.”
She shook her head. “Aren’t you afraid for him? Weren’t you afraid for yourself?”
Miguel turned away to gaze out at the sea. “A man would be a great fool not to be afraid, but overcoming your fear is a thrill that never fades. Tell me, Magdalena, are you afraid of death?”
He appeared perfectly relaxed, and yet the challenging light in his dark eyes warned her to take care. She drew in a deep breath. She would never have chosen such a dark topic for a meaningful conversation. “I believe our spirits are eternal and only our earthly bodies age and die, so I’ve no reason to be afraid. They say the only constant in life is change, and death is merely another change. I don’t believe it’s a final one.”
Miguel nodded thoughtfully. “In my youth, I placed my fate in God’s hands, and he’s given me a magnificent life. If I die today, I won’t feel cheated. Perhaps, as you believe, my spirit will endure; if not, I’ll still have been blessed.”
He might be content with his failing heart, but she couldn’t accept the inevitable so calmly. “Santos told me you’ve refused to consider a heart transplant.”
“He talks too much. Now I believe I hear Antonio at the door. Will you excuse us please?”
“Certainly.” She left the table a second time, quickly crossed the room and opened the door for the physician. He was of medium height with thick silver hair. He smiled as though he knew her, but then slipped by her with barely a nod.