The Spaniard's Woman

‘Yes, really,’ Rosie affirmed as she took the selected dress.

‘Now, I must get changed or I’m bound to be late. I’ll see you at dinner?’

‘Of course.’ Terrina made a move to leave, then hesitated. ‘I—oh, dammit! Look, do you mind if I’m frank?’ The pampered hands with their long, painted fingernails were twisting together. ‘Could you get Sebastian to leave as soon as possible? Tell him you’d like to go to Seville, or something? He’s a lovely man, but he doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure he’ll try to break me and Marcus up.’

‘Why on earth would he want to do that?’ Rosie soothed immediately. The other girl had obviously got her wires crossed somewhere, but she did seem genuinely troubled. Her smooth brow wrinkled. Hadn’t Sebastian said that Terrina wasn’t fit to touch her shoes, or something along those lines? Looking at this lovely creature, it didn’t make any sense. And how could he not like you?’ she added for good measure.

‘Because—’ Terrina bit down on her lower lip, then dragged in a huge breath. ‘You won’t like this, but it is true. As things stand, Sebastian is Marcus’s heir. Everything—his fifty per cent holding in the business, his property, the millions sloshing around in bank accounts—goes to Sebastian. He stands to lose the lot if Marcus remarries. As his wife I would inherit everything.’

As Rosie’s mouth fell open, the other girl said harshly, ‘That’s why he’d do anything to break us up. Think about it,’ and exited the room on a cloud of musky perfume, leaving Rosie gaping.

Sebastian wouldn’t do a thing like that! He was wealthy enough in his own right. He was really fond of his godfather; some of the things he’d said proved that. He wouldn’t try to deprive him of his future happiness with a new wife just for sordid financial gain.

And yet—Her brow wrinkled. When she’d revealed her true identity he had immediately accused her of scheming to place herself as Marcus’s heir, his initial thoughts only of all that money—his own inheritance. No mention at that stage of his aunt’s betrayal…. The sudden doubts made her feel sick. With an effort she pushed them away.

Terriria, for all her friendliness, had to be mentally deranged, poor thing, to even imagine that Sebastian would act that way —it was the only solution. Wasn’t it?

‘You look exquisite. Perfect.’ Sebastian cupped her bare elbow with his hand and escorted her out of the bedroom. ‘We assemble in the small sala, drink a glass of fino, make small talk and then go in to dinner. It is the ritual in my mother’s home.’ His voice was light, his smile warm, his compliments on her appearance a welcome boost to her self-confidence. But Rosie could feel the tension in him; it seemed to flow from him in unsettling waves.

On the point of confiding Terrina’s odd misgivings, she firmly clamped her mouth shut. If she said anything at all on that subject she’d probably be accused of mischief-making. She had enough on her plate without that! In a few moments she would be introduced to her father! And the way Sebastian’s tautly muscled thigh was brushing lightly against hers as they walked the length of the corridor was making her feel decidedly drunk.

But for once the physical contact didn’t make her blush. In fact, her face felt all white and pinched. At the carved wooden doors Sebastian paused. He gave her an unnervingly tender glance.

‘Try to relax, cara. No traumatic revelations this evening, remember. Just be your own natural, sweet self and put all your anxieties aside until the morning. Don’t forget, I am here with you.’

As if she could forget a thing like that! Around him she was flooded with so much fierily wicked weakness she couldn’t think straight. And her anxieties refused to be put aside; they just kept hammering at her brain. Nevertheless, she managed a wavery smile, told him, ‘Thank you, I appreciate your support,’ and steeled herself to walk through the door he’d opened for her. Head high, smile glued to her face.

It was a beautiful room with a painted, intricately plastered ceiling, tall windows, delicate furniture, a magnificent hand-painted Chinese screen.

Dona Elvira, Terrina and the man she had come so far to see.

Marcus Troone began to get to his feet, then abruptly sank back in his chair, his hands gripping the carved and gilded arms, his strong features losing every vestige of colour as he gasped, ‘Molly!’

CHAPTER TEN

Rosie’s blood ran cold, then surged with a rush of anxiety which was uncomfortably spiked with guilt. She was responsible for her father’s collapse.

He’d taken one look at her and mistaken her for her mother!

Hadn’t Jean always said how alike they were? She should have remembered that.

Sebastian had already reached his godfather’s side, and Rosie pulled herself together and sped after him. Elvira rose swiftly from her chair and tugged on the bell rope to summon one of the servants. Only Terrina stayed w

here she was, staring.

‘Don’t fuss!’ Marcus grumbled as Sebastian leant over him and loosened his collar. ‘I’m perfectly all right. Bit of a shock, that’s all. And I don’t want a doctor,’ he stated strongly, picking up on Sebastian’s terse instruction to Dona Elvira. ‘If you send for him I shall refuse to see him!’

‘Recovered, obviously,’ Sebastian murmured drily as Paquita appeared, to vanish again to fetch the water Dona Elvira requested.

Angled behind Sebastian’s back, Rosie hardly dared show her face in case she triggered another collapse. Or worse. How awful if something happened to him before they exchanged a single word!

But that dire event seemed extremely unlikely as Sir Marcus Troone rose smartly to his feet. Sebastian swung round, his features set, looped an arm around her waist and positioned her to face the older man.

Rosie simply stared. She couldn’t help it. A still handsome man, he had altered little from the photograph she’d seen. His face a little heavier, his waistline a little thicker. Deep blue eyes searched her pale features but his firm voice was kind as he apologised, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t usually greet guests by falling flat on my back! You remind me of someone I used to know.’

‘Rosie—’ Sebastian’s voice was sharpened steel. ‘Now, I think.’

Knowing exactly what he meant, her eyes appealed to his.