The Disobedient Virgin

“Tomorrow we’ll fly to the United States. I’ll find an apartment for you to stay in for the next two months, arrange for a companion…” Nothing. Not even a nod of her head. Did she understand a word he was saying? “ Mendes. Catarina. I don’t know how much English you understand, but—”

“I speak English fluently.”

Whoops. Catarina grabbed the door handle as the SUV swerved. Her new guardian—her jailer—recovered control of the wheel quickly enough so that they didn’t go over the precipice, but it was close.

Perhaps she should have been more cautious in telling him she wasn’t the idiot he obviously thought she was.

“You do?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief.

Catarina smoothed down her skirt. “English is the lingua franca of the world.”

She felt him looking at her, though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her any more clearly than she could see him. The sun was almost gone; they were both in shadow. But what did it matter how he looked? She had to go with him, even if he turned out to be a clone of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Mother Elisabete had told her the facts. Senhor Joaquim Ramirez wanted no part of her. He’d been forced to take on her guardianship now that the older Ramirez was dead, and unless she was very careful he would not go through with it, in which case she’d have to remain at the School for Young Ladies while the attorney figured out what to do next, and who knew how much longer that might take?

She hadn’t even intended to speak to the man until they were safely away from the convent, but impatience had gotten the better of her. He talked to her as if she were a child and she was sick and tired of that.

“Besides,” she added, “my mother was American. We spoke both English and Portuguese at home.”

“I see,” Joaquim Ramirez said, although she suspected he didn’t. “Well. That will definitely make things eas—”

“There’s a turn-off ahead. Pull over so we can talk.” A mistake. She knew it as soon as she said it. Nice little convent-bred girls didn’t give orders. “I mean…” She took a breath, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please. This has all been such a shock…Can’t we just discuss things for a little while?”

She saw his hands flex on the wheel. Then he put on his signal light and pulled to the side of the road.

“Look,” he said, swinging toward her, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re right. I’m not in the mood for this deal, either, but there’s a will, Mendes. Estes says he explained its terms to you and you accepted them.”

“I didn’t! Nobody gave me a choice. That’s what I’m trying to—”

Her words were lost in the grinding gears of an eighteen-wheeler as it labored up the steep road. Illumination from its headlights filled the car.

And Jake got a clear look at Catarina Mendes for the very first time.

She was beautiful.

Her face wasn’t bony, it was elegant. Straight nose. High cheekbones. Determined chin. Eyes the color of dark coffee, a mouth that was rosy-pink and generous, innocent of makeup. Innocent, too, he was certain, of a man’s taste.

His eyes dropped lower. That brown thing she was wearing was still ugly and oversized, but because of the way she’d shifted in her seat, because of the pressure of her seat belt, he could see that she had a slender neck, delicate shoulders, and the sensual promise of lush, rounded breasts.

Jake felt a tightening in his groin. Where had his demure little mouse gone?

“I know the terms of my parents’ will,” Catarina said. “Do you really want to force me to follow them? To see me wed a man I don’t love?”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her cheeks were flushed; her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears. She put her hand on his arm and leaned closer, her mouth trembling.

“All you need do is take me to Rio and lend me enough money to live on for the next two months. At the end of that time, you can contact Javier Estes and tell him I’m safely married. I’ll come into my inheritance, pay you what I owe you, and nobody will be the wiser.”

“ Mendes. I wish I could do that, but Estes will demand proof.”

“You can find a way. I know you can.”

Was she wearing perfume? She couldn’t be. Was that the smell of flowers blooming in the darkness that now surrounded them, or was that her scent teasing his senses?

“Please,” she whispered, “I beg you. Help me.”

He wanted to. What man wouldn’t? Maybe what she’d suggested would work. Drop her off in Rio, give her some money, wait a while, then contact Estes and somehow convince him he’d complied with the terms of the will…

And maybe he’d lost his mind. There was no way to fool Javier Estes. He had to make her understand that.