Книга - The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride

The Spaniard's Untouched Bride
Maisey Yates


To save her inheritance…His price is marriage!Camilla Alvarez refuses to abandon her beloved horses when formidable tycoon Matias Navarro acquires her family’s renowned rancho. Instead, she disguises herself as his stable-boy! But when Camilla’s charade is discovered Matias offers her an even more shocking role—as his wife! Innocent Camilla is transformed into a bride deserving of his diamonds, but their convenient marriage is transformed by the scalding heat of their wedding night…







To save her inheritance...

His price is marriage!

Camilla Alvarez refuses to abandon her beloved horses when formidable tycoon Matías Navarro acquires her family’s renowned rancho. Instead, she disguises herself as his stable boy! Yet when Camilla’s charade is discovered, Matías offers her an even more shocking role—as his wife! Innocent Camilla is transformed into a bride deserving of his diamonds, but their convenient marriage is transformed by the scalding heat of their wedding night...

Lose yourself in this tale of innocence and desire...


MAISEY YATES is a New York Times bestselling author of more than seventy-five romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website, maiseyyates.com (http://www.maiseyyates.com).


Also by Maisey Yates (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)

The Greek’s Nine-Month Redemption

Carides’s Forgotten Wife

Brides of Innocence miniseries

The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride

Kidnapping His Virgin Bride

Heirs Before Vows miniseries

The Spaniard’s Pregnant Bride

The Prince’s Pregnant Mistress

The Italian’s Pregnant Virgin

Once Upon a Seduction… miniseries

The Prince’s Captive Virgin

The Prince’s Stolen Virgin

The Italian’s Pregnant Prisoner

Princes of Petras miniseries

A Christmas Vow of Seduction

The Queen’s New Year Secret

The Billionaire’s Legacy collection

The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride

Maisey Yates






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08725-4

THE SPANIARD’S UNTOUCHED BRIDE

© 2018 Maisey Yates

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To romance novels.

which have been my inspiration as a writer,

and my comfort as a reader.

I’m grateful there’s an entire genre devoted to love.


Contents

Cover (#ud0b20ef8-a1fe-57bb-8a9b-8bc0196db9b6)

Back Cover Text (#u1542cfd9-b0fd-5133-b00a-873910f9c2b7)

About the Author (#u0e217755-2dbc-57d9-86f4-3839d789b883)

Booklist (#ua1a353f1-0f21-586f-8fb9-3737534d0c21)

Title Page (#u6b2d1161-6b73-5b6e-a38d-34f763196313)

Copyright (#u02c3772a-f3e2-5ca9-99d2-b816c77e67e3)

Dedication (#ufbac483d-0082-5559-83cd-c0878fd8be5d)

PROLOGUE (#uceb6429c-d6aa-5e56-85f8-1c30fb5d56b6)

CHAPTER ONE (#u1f62dfae-f2c3-5f46-86f2-f205519645db)

CHAPTER TWO (#u2b7900f5-cdc2-5d54-89ee-9b897d39daf6)

CHAPTER THREE (#ua1d56391-d6b6-5d7a-a3d5-91609ea153e1)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u4375ade4-2dc0-5f8b-b47f-580785536c1c)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




PROLOGUE (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)


HE DOESN’T HIRE WOMEN.

Camilla Alvarez looked into the mirror at her decidedly plain reflection. She was a woman, that much was true. Though, she had never been considered a beauty. Even so, she imagined that as far as Matías Navarro was concerned, she was a woman.

Her cheeks were still wet with tears, her eyes glittering with more. It was unthinkable. Losing her father suddenly as she had to a heart attack, and then losing the ranch, as well. And all the horses...

It was her heart. And, shattered though it was, fractured as it was now, she couldn’t lose it. She could not.

But the horses, the rancho, everything was being sold to cover her father’s debts. Everything was going to Matías Navarro.

He had been one of her father’s fiercest competitors. His racehorses were the only steeds that could compete with those of Cesar Alvarez.

And now Matías owned them.

Because apparently, their rancho had been in debt, the supposed millions of dollars that her family possessed nothing more than smoke and mirrors. All mortgaged to extremes and behind on every payment.

Her father had been an idealist. A man completely laser-focused on his ranch, his animals, his workers. With little time or thought given to anything else. She didn’t even have to ask herself how it had happened. She knew. Her father hadn’t liked the situation, and so he had ignored it.

Collectors had been hounding Camilla ever since Cesar’s death. And her mother—predictably—had gone off to France, taking shelter under the wing of one of her many lovers.

She had always flaunted them in the face of her husband, but Camilla supposed that now that Cesar was dead, her mother felt it was all justified seeing as she clearly had an insurance policy.

Camilla had nothing. Nothing but the rancho. The place she had grown up in, grown wild in. Her mother had rarely been in residence, and for most of Camilla’s life, it had simply been her and her father.

And he had allowed her to do whatever she wanted. To run barefoot. To ride until she reached the end of the property, and then beyond. Roaming all over the Spanish countryside as she pleased.

Her mother, an American heiress who had never settled well into the rural country life, had seen it all as beneath her.

Camilla had seen it as everything. And now it was gone.

She had begged, pleaded, as her horses had been led away from the property by members of Matías’s staff for them to let her go, too. If she was going to lose the rancho, as long as she could be with the horses, as long as she could be with Fuego, she could survive it.

She had told them she would do anything, any job.

But the stone-faced man guiding her favorite black stallion into the trailer had simply shaken his head and told her that Matías Navarro did not hire women.

And indeed, the evidence had been all around her that it was the truth. There was not a single woman among Matías’s staff present at the rancho.

Her father was gone. Her horses were gone. Soon, she would be evicted from the rancho, with nowhere to go. There were no provisions made for her. She had nothing. Nothing and no one. She had never been able to count on her mother during good times, she had no illusions that she would be able to count on the woman now that things were difficult.

Camilla knew one thing. She knew horses.

She knew those horses. She loved those horses.

Fuego was going to be the next champion on the European racing circuit, she was confident in that. But no one else could handle him. No one else could ride him, and he had some way to go before he was ready for anyone else to try.

Matías Navarro would find out soon enough that his new acquisition was essentially useless to him. If the horse could not be broken, then he was worthless.

And without the horses... Her life felt worthless.

She looked back in the mirror, examining her face. She was not classically beautiful. Her mother had always despaired of her heavy bone structure, the angular nature of her jaw and chin. Not feminine, her rather spindly mother had declared.

For the first time, though, Camilla was completely pleased with this assessment of her looks. Because it was going to be an asset to her now.

She opened up the drawer in the vanity and pulled out a pair of scissors. Then she touched a lock of glossy, black hair, and ruthlessly stretched it tight, cutting it close to her ears.

Yes, she had found her solution.

Matías Navarro did not hire women. But perhaps he would hire a new stable boy.




CHAPTER ONE (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)


CAMILLA STRAIGHTENED AND wiped her brow, looking out over the now familiar fields of the Navarro rancho. In the two months since she had come into Matías’s employ, the place had become close to home. Of course, it couldn’t compare to the Alvarez rancho. She had lived there for twenty-two years, and she couldn’t imagine anywhere feeling like home the way that it had.

Sometimes she ached with the desire to walk through that familiar front door, to feel the red stone floor beneath her feet, the places where it was imperfect. Where it bowed and cracked from years of wear. It was like a familiar friend, and it was gone. She could never have it again.

But at least she had the horses.

It was a tricky thing, though, getting access to Fuego. Matías had refused to allow anyone but his most trusted handler and himself to get anywhere near him. Of course, he was proving to be difficult. Camilla had known he would be. Because he was a difficult animal.

But she had opted to keep herself mostly out of Matías’s vision. She had not seen the point in drawing attention to herself, but it was becoming clear that if she wanted to have anything to do with Fuego she was going to have to assert herself.

A difficult thing, since the assumption was that she was a fourteen-year-old boy, simply doing work in exchange for board on the property.

Very few questions had been asked, and for that she was grateful. She had done a bit more digging about Matías and had discovered that he was generous with his employees. That he had a soft spot for troubled youth and made putting them to work something of a mission.

In spite of his family’s difficult reputation, Matías himself seemed to be a good man. When she ignored that little doesn’t hire women thing.

But she had found a workaround. She had decided to play the part of a troubled youth, fallen through the cracks and likely to end up sleeping on the streets if not for the kindness of the Navarro estate.

It was true enough. She had very few options available to her at the moment. She had no money.

And she was, in fact, qualified for the job she had been hired to do.

All in all, her solution was a reasonable one. So, perhaps concealing her gender might be considered less than reasonable.

But with her hair cut short, and baggy clothes over her rather straight up and down figure, no one questioned it.

In part, she imagined, because very few people looked directly at her. Much less Matías Navarro.

Or his beautiful, birdlike fiancée, who had come to live at the estate just last month. She was a lovely creature and reminded Camilla very much of her mother. She had cascading waves of curling blond hair, pale blue eyes and alabaster skin. Anytime she went out onto the rancho she took extensive breaks to stand in the shade and slather her body with sunscreen.

Matías seemed solicitous of her, often putting his hand on her lower back, or taking hold of her arm, as if the woman would fall onto her face on the uneven terrain if he did not hold on to her in some fashion.

Camilla wondered what it might be like to have someone treat her like that. No one had ever been gentle with her. Her father had treated her as though she were the son he didn’t have. Had allowed her freedom, had encouraged hard labor. Her mother had treated her like an irritation. She had preferred the former.

But no one had ever made her feel precious. No one had ever made her feel fragile.

She sniffed and shrugged her shoulders upward, going back to the task of shoveling manure.

She would rather have this than be cloistered away in that giant manor house. Would rather be out in the sun, out where it smelled like hay and horse and grass.

She looked up and squinted. Judging by the position of the sun, it was about time for Matías to make his rounds. That meant he would be coming out to the stables, likely attempting to take Fuego into the arena to be lunged.

Historically, that had not gone well.

Camilla had watched through a crack in the door of the stable, whenever she had the opportunity. Whenever she wouldn’t get caught by the foreman and scolded for being idle. She wouldn’t do well at all to get fired.

She scampered over to the end of the stable and took her typical position. And then her breath caught.

There was Matías, walking into the arena with Fuego on a lead. Fuego was as beautiful as ever, his coat glossy beneath the late-afternoon sun. He tossed his head, already telegraphing his irritation with the situation, his ears listing backward.

Then her eyes slid to Matías. And everything inside her seemed to freeze.

He was stunning in his own right and reminded her in many ways of the animal he was attempting to tame. His black hair was pushed back off his forehead, his skin bronzed and gleaming. His chest was broad, his white shirt unbuttoned down to the center of his chest, the sleeves pushed up past powerful forearms. He was wearing tan breeches that molded to lean hips and powerful thighs, to say nothing of...other parts of him.

Camilla had been around jockeys her entire life. Typically, they were slightly built, all the better to ride quickly. And she knew that Matías did not race for that very reason. It wasn’t practical. A man well over six feet tall with such a heavy build could never compete with other racers.

No, Matías was not a jockey. Therefore, the sight of him in those breeches was...a different experience. And one she was not accustomed to, no matter that she had grown up at a stable.

Matías and his foreman switched out the horse’s lead for a lunging rope, and Matías stepped backward, moving to the edge of the arena, a whip in his hands, which would be used, not to harm the animal, but to signal changes in what he desired Fuego to do. When he wanted him to change his gait, when he wanted him to stop, or turn.

But, as had happened every time in the past couple of months, Fuego balked. He more than balked. He reared, nearly turning himself over onto his back. Camilla felt a spike of rage, and before she knew what she was doing she was tearing out of the stable and heading toward the arena.

Her face was on fire, her heart beating quickly, and this time it had nothing to do with Matías’s breeches.

“Tonto!” she shouted. “You know he doesn’t like it. And you insist on doing it. He’s going to injure himself.”

It took her a moment to realize what she had just done. That she had just shouted at the master of the domain, while in his domain. That she had just undone two months of attempting to go unnoticed by rendering herself as conspicuous as possible.

“I see,” Matías said, taking too long strides across the arena and heading toward her. “You fancy yourself a great trainer, do you?”

Those dark eyes pinned her to the spot, her feet nearly growing down into the grass as he moved to the edge of the fence. She took a step backward, with great effort, trying to put some distance between herself and her formidable boss.

“Not great, perhaps,” she said, attempting to keep her voice low and steady. “But I know the horse.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I came here...” She desperately tried to improvise. “I did not lie when I said that I would have no home if I wasn’t hired.” She cast a look at the rancho foreman just to be sure that he was listening. So that he could corroborate at least that part of her tale. “I came from the Alvarez rancho. I’m familiar with Fuego. I can work with him.”

“You’re only just now telling us this?” Matías asked, shooting his foreman an appointed glare.

“Don’t blame Juan. I didn’t tell him. I was afraid to draw attention to myself. But now I see that Fuego is not going to acclimate to this new environment. Or to new trainers. I could ride him.”

Matías leaned over, resting those strong forearms over the top rail of the fence. “I am to believe that Cesar Alvarez allowed a scrawny boy to ride one of his most prized horses? That this beast responds to you?”

“That’s right,” she said, tilting her chin upward. “I have a way with him.”

She had always had a way with difficult horses, just like her father had. It was a gift. One that Cesar Alvarez had believed you either had or didn’t. He had told her it was in her DNA, as it was in his.

It had been their sole point of connection. Her father had been entirely invested in the rancho, and anyone who loved him had to love that place just as much. And she did. She very much did.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near that animal.”

“Why not?” she asked. “What do you have to lose?”

“It’s not so much what I stand to lose as what I don’t want to have to cope with. I would rather not have to respond to an inquiry over a foolish boy breaking his neck on my rancho.”

“I’m not going to break my neck,” Camilla said. “But Fuego might snap a limb if you continue to handle him like this. I hear that you’re very good with horses, Señor Navarro, but I have not yet seen it.”

“You think insulting your boss is the way to long-term employment?”

“I assume that you are a man who would appreciate honesty. You are allowing your pride to get in the way of making the most of your animal, and I daresay I have seen it many times before.”

One of Matías’s dark brows shot upward. “Many times?”

“Yes. During the year I was employed with Cesar Alvarez. There were a lot of rich men with animals they could not handle.”

“I’m a horseman,” Matías said. “Not simply a rich man.”

“You are a businessman primarily. That is nothing to be ashamed of, but it does mean that your focus is split.”

Then Matías did something she did not expect. He laughed.

“All right then, boy. Come into the arena and show me what you can do.”

Matías could not believe the unmitigated gall of the youth standing rooted in the grass only a few feet away from him. He could not be older than fourteen, and he spoke with the kind of boldness that grown men did not have in his presence. Although, in many ways that made sense.

Fourteen was that sort of age. When a boy could have all the bravado in the world, and not be aware of what consequences might befall him.

Matías was certain he had been similarly brash at that age. In all actuality at thirty-three he was still as brash, it was just that when you were a billionaire with limitless funds and no small amount of power, it was not considered brashness. It was simply considered reasonable.

He was a man of responsibility also, and one who—unlike the rest of the men in his family—cared about doing what was right. He cared about the ranch. About the village the ranch supported.

His abuelo was currently playing games with it. But Matías wasn’t to be trifled with. The old man had pitted Matías and his older brother Diego against each other, saying they had to comply with specific terms, and whichever of them managed in an allotted time frame would get their share of the ranch and the family assets upon the old man’s death.

If they both complied, they would get half each.

But if only one did...to the victor went the spoils.

Matías had no doubt he would be the one to win. Marriage was one of his grandfather’s stipulations, and Matías had secured his union to Liliana Hart a couple of months earlier. He had known her casually for years. Had seen her at various functions with her parents, and her father had indicated he wouldn’t be opposed to the union and Matías had seen it as an opportunity.

That was the sort of man he was. Decisive. Not opportunistic in the way his grandfather or brother were. He did things right.

And he reaped rewards for it.

He had expected the youth to back down the moment he had realized the manner of the man he was coming at. But he had not. Which Matías could only grudgingly admire.

The boy followed his command, moving closer to the arena, a scowl on his face.

Matías looked over at Fuego, his tempestuous new acquisition. The horse possessed the ability to be great. Matías knew it. He was an excellent judge of horseflesh. He was also an extremely skilled trainer. But the animal had refused to come to heel, no matter how long and hard Matías worked with him.

Though it galled him to admit the boy was correct, he was. Matías was also a businessman, and his work often demanded that he spend time away from the rancho. That meant having others work with the horses in his stead.

His family was an old one in Spain, and had been breeding champions for generations. But it had long ceased to be their primary source of income. And Matías was involved in various retail conglomerates across the world, his business centered in London, not in Spain.

Though he had achieved a level of status that allowed him to work from wherever he wanted, as various other business associates and dignitaries would meet with him wherever he chose, it still required a fair amount of travel.

So yes, in that way, this urchin boy was correct. The fact that Matías was a businessman did keep him from dedicating everything he had to the animals.

Matías regarded the boy as he walked over to the animal, who immediately seemed to still in his presence. If he had not, Matías would never have allowed the boy to get any closer. He hadn’t lied when he said he was not going to subject himself to an inquiry over a teenage boy’s stupidity.

Completely unafraid, the boy lifted his hand and brought it to Fuego’s nose. The horse sniffed his hand and seemed to find him familiar. For he stilled, almost immediately. The boy grabbed the rope, close to the bridle, and then looked over at Matías, nodding his head once, in a clear bid for Matías to drop his end.

Matías complied.

The boy leaned into the horse, pressing his face against the horse’s nose, stroking him gently and speaking to him in soft tones that Matías could not readily understand.

As if by magic, the horse quieted.

Then the boy turned to look at Matías. “I didn’t lie to you. Fuego knows me. Now, he’s not going to perform perfectly right away. He didn’t always obey me. But I can ride him. I can work with him. And I can make it so that someone else can ride him, as well. Which is what you need if you want him to be able to race. As it is, his temperament is too hot. And the fact that no one can manage it makes it impossible. I can make him manageable. I will never make him well behaved, but manageable I can accomplish. And I assume your jockeys are strong enough riders to go from there.”

“This is unprecedented,” Matías said, looking over at Juan. “I do not allow children to train my animals.”

“And yet,” Juan responded, “clearly Cesar Alvarez did.”

Matías looked back over at the boy, who was regarding him with rather hopeful eyes. “Fine. Whatever your duties are, you’re relieved of them. Fuego is now your responsibility. Fernando Cortez is going to be the jockey that we use for him, so eventually you’re going to be working with Fernando. But you may start by yourself.”

“Good,” the boy said, tilting his face upward.

He suddenly looked a bit older than Matías had thought originally. But perhaps that was the bravado again.

“Then it is good,” he responded.

He moved over to the edge of the fence. Matías nodded once, signaling the boy to proceed.

The boy paused, then stared at him. “Don’t you want to know my name?”

“If I know your name will you become a better horse trainer?” Matías asked.

“No,” the boy said, blinking. “I don’t suppose.”

“Then I do not care to know your name.”

The boy said nothing but set about silently moving Fuego through his paces. The horse was jumpy, skittish, but not completely immovable as he had been when Matías had attempted the same.

There was no denying that the boy had a way with the horse. And if Matías wanted him trained in time, he was going to have to allow the boy to step in. The last thing he wanted to do was mishandle such a magnificent creature.

Acquiring Cesar Alvarez’s stock had been a boon for him, and he was not about to waste it.

“What about the other horses from the Alvarez rancho?” Matías called. “You are familiar with them, as well?”

“All of them,” the boy said, not looking over at Matías. “I have worked with all of them.”

“You will work with all of them here,” he said, decisive now. “My trainers keep logs. Juan will show you the proper way to do this. That way I can read about your progress without having to speak to you. As I prefer it.”

“Of course, señor,” the boy said.

“It is because I’m a businessman, and not simply a horseman,” Matías said.

He could have sworn he saw a smile curve the boy’s lips. “Of course, señor.”

Matías turned away, smiling. It was possible that now he had the break he needed to make this animal profitable for him. It seemed as though everything was finally going his way. His engagement to Liliana was cemented. Though she was staying in her own quarters, rather than coming into his.

She had found the transition in their relationship to be a fast one. From a business associate of her father’s to his fiancée. And it was clear she required a bit of time to adjust.

He didn’t mind. He was a patient man, in all things.

He began to walk back toward the ranch house.

He would fulfill his grandfather’s requirements, and the control of the vast family estate would be his at last. A wife. A champion racehorse.

The old man should have known better than to challenge Matías Navarro. Because with him, challenges never went unanswered.

Matías would win this battle with the old man. He knew no other way.




CHAPTER TWO (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)


CAMILLA COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d had a chance to shower. It was an awful thing, but there was no shower in her personal quarters. She had to make do with the shared one in the stables, and it always felt a bigger risk than was strictly necessary.

Still, she was dying for one, especially after spending all day working in the intense heat. She had worked with Fuego until they were both nearly exhausted. But it was the happiest she had been since her father died. Being on the back of that horse again. Riding through the olive groves on the property, the hot, dry wind burning its way across her cheeks.

If her mother could see her now, she would truly despair of her. Reddish face, chapped lips, her hair cut close to her skull and just long enough now to stick up at strange angles when she ran her hands through it in frustration, from when the horses failed to do what she asked of them.

She did indeed look like a boy, and it was easy to feel fully immersed in the role. Until she needed something like a shower, in which case she became terribly aware of her body.

The other time she became terribly aware of her body was when Matías would stride across the grounds, wearing those problematic breeches. It made her feel hot, and it made her feel strange. And so much of the feeling centered on the parts of her body she tried to disguise, that it was impossible for her not to hyper-focus on them.

It was late, the sun having gone down a good half our earlier, a chill starting to wrap itself around her body. Hot days like that always left her skin feeling tight, as though there were an invisible layer of dust over every last inch of her.

Most of the staff had gone home, very few of them living in residence as she did, and the others either had private bathroom facilities or would be showering in the morning. At least that was what she was going to go ahead and bank on tonight.

She scampered into the stable, moving through to the tack room, and heading into the shower. She locked the door behind her and stripped her clothes off quickly, unwinding the precautionary medical wrap that she had around her chest.

It was such a slight chest, she probably didn’t have to bind herself, not really. But it was a precaution that she took seriously. Along with these clandestine showers. Just in case. Just in case someone had a key to the room she was in. Just in case somehow, right after her shower, having just been naked, she looked somehow more female.

That was the one good thing about the dirt. It provided an extra layer of coverage. She smiled at that, stepping beneath the hot spray of water and scrubbing each inch of her body as quickly as possible.

That was one asset to short hair, as well. The fact that it took much less time to manage. To wash. And in the morning, she did nothing with it at all.

She hummed as she scrubbed and then shut the water off, much sooner than she would like. But really, she didn’t have the luxury of lingering.

She dressed into the fresh clothes she had brought inside with her—nothing more than baggy sweatpants—and was just about to pull her tank on when the doorknob rattled.

She froze, her heart fluttering like a frightened bird trapped in her chest.

“Occupied,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice low and husky while panic raced through her.

The doorknob quit rattling. She wrapped her chest quickly with the bandage and then gathered up her dirty clothes, taking care to hide the old bandage that she had been wearing.

She unlocked the door, fortifying herself for who she might see on the other side, and stepped out. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words dying on her lips as her eyes made contact with Matías Navarro’s.

“Sorry,” she said again, mumbling.

“I was taking a walk,” he said, his voice hard. “And I saw that there were lights on in here and I came to check.”

“I just needed a shower,” she responded.

“There is no crime in that.”

She shook her head and then attempted to scurry past him. But she ran into the edge of that heavily muscled arm, stumbling forward and dropping the armful of clothes in her hand.

“Easy,” Matías said.

Then, much to her horror, before she could act he bent down and collected her clothing. And that pale, taupe-colored medical bandage had somehow risen to the top. Obvious, she thought.

Matías frowned. “Are you injured?”

“I...” She cleared her throat, her head spinning, her cheeks hot. She was grateful that he had supplied that question. Because of course that was the much more logical thought to have. Not that she had been binding her breasts for the past two and a half months to conceal her gender. “My wrist was feeling tender. Just... Fuego pulled a little bit harder and in the opposite direction than I expected when I was lunging him earlier.” It was amazing how easy the lie came. Camilla had never been put in a position where she’d had to lie.

She had always done exactly what her father expected. Which had suited her just fine as it had all centered around the rancho.

Her mother had never required a lie. She was disinterested in her only child and did not care what Camilla was up to so long as it did not interfere with, or embarrass, her.

She had never known whether or not she was a good liar, because the opportunity had never presented itself. Apparently, she was proficient.

“The swelling has gone down now,” she said. “And I’m feeling fine. I was afraid it might be sprained, but it is not.”

“That’s very interesting. Because I went over the logs earlier and did not see that in there.”

“It didn’t matter to me,” she said, feeling the heat mounting her cheeks. “I mean, it didn’t bear noting to me.”

“Do not mistake me, boy. It is not your health that concerns me. If Fuego is not responding to training...”

“He is,” Camilla said hurriedly.

Matías shifted, rubbing his thumb across the bandage. Something in her stomach grew tight, and then the whole thing flipped over. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy. Even bound beneath the fresh tape as they were.

“If he is a danger to you...”

“He isn’t,” she insisted, reaching out and snatching the clothing out of his hand. She couldn’t bear him touching it. She didn’t know why. It made her skin feel warm.

Idiot. That’s because you just took a hot shower.

“As long as you’re certain.”

She nodded. “I am.”

Matías nodded once in return, those well-sculpted lips turning down slightly. She felt...immobilized by them. Just for a moment. She didn’t think she had ever seen such a handsome man. Not in her whole life. And here she was, dressed as a boy. And even if she wasn’t, he would never look twice at her.

No man ever had. Matías Navarro would hardly have been the first. But even if there had been a possibility, it was rendered completely impossible by two things. He thought she was a boy, and he was engaged to his counterpart in beauty.

Liliana was the human version of a meringue. A confection of a woman. All light, airy and pastel. Sweet and beautiful.

Standing anywhere near her made Camilla’s bones feel heavy. Made her shoulders feel broad, and her height absurd.

The sad thing was, she had a feeling that even if she was presenting as a woman she would show much the same way in the petite American’s presence.

Her one consolation was that Liliana’s Spanish was fairly atrocious.

Though, Matías never seemed to indicate that he thought so. And he often spoke to her in English, which Camilla thought sounded lovely and cultured coming from his lips. She had grown up with both languages, because of her mother, and she was familiar with the way native speakers sounded.

She preferred it from Matías’s lips.

“Be careful,” Matías said before turning away.

And Camilla was left standing there, her heart thundering hard. And she knew that it was not beating quickly because of adrenaline anymore. That it was something else. Something impossible and terrible. Something that had to be ignored at all costs.

Fernando Cortez was going to have an introduction to Fuego today. Matías had arranged to watch the meeting, and he had also managed to get Liliana to agree to come watch, as well. They drove in an air-conditioned truck across the property to the arena, and then he set them both up in the shade at the edge of the arena.

Liliana’s blond curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, half of her hair caught up in a row of pink flowers. Her cheeks were a pleasing, matching pink, as were her lips. She wore no makeup. Liliana often did that. He had a feeling it was, in many ways, to highlight just how beautiful she was.

She would make a beautiful wife. A very suitable wife. One that would make him the envy of many men. Certainly of his brother.

But Diego was disgraced, and he was on the verge of being disinherited. He would never marry in time to fulfill their grandfather’s will, and, as a result, it would leave Matías in charge of everything. The whole of the Navarro rancho, and all the stock.

Plus, it would eliminate the opportunity for his brother to get his hands in Matías’s business. That was actually his primary concern. That Diego would end up part owner of Matías’s company, even if it was a minority share. Because when Matías had started his retail empire, it had been with money from the Navarro family trust. Which would technically be half Diego’s were he to find a suitable bride.

But his brother was a villain. And out of the country after the death of his first wife, with rumors swirling around him.

He had gone on to amount to...nothing much. Gambling and whoring his way through Europe, managing to amass a fortune via misdeeds as far as Matías could see.

He and Diego had never been close, but after their mother’s death they had only gotten more distant. His older brother, growing darker, had withdrawn into himself. He had begun to act out, destroying furniture and art pieces. Setting fire to a shed on the property. For his part, Matías had built a taller wall up around himself.

Their methods for surviving a childhood with a violent father who tended toward insanity had been vastly different. For his part, Matías had kept his head down. He had stayed the course that no one had set out for him. But one he had set out for himself.

Diego, meanwhile, had seemingly drunk his father’s poison. He moved through life delighting in his wickedness. In his depravity.

Matías would not allow him to have control here. This land had seen enough suffering and cruelty.

Matías would marry Liliana and that would be the end of it all.

“He’s a beautiful horse,” Liliana said, leaning back in the cushioned chair that had been brought up to the arena for her comfort. She picked up the glass of lemonade that had been delivered for her, as well, and took a delicate sip, her pink lips on the straw captivating his attention.

He suspected his future bride was an innocent. Either that or she was quite good at acting the part of virginal maiden. It made no difference to him, in all honesty. But it was the reason he held himself back from her now.

“He is,” Matías agreed. “But a temperamental one. So far, he only responds to that stable boy.”

Liliana wrinkled her nose. “Well, that seems rather inconvenient, considering the stable boy can hardly compete in a race. Age limits, I should think.”

“Yes. But that’s why Fernando Cortez is coming today.”

As if on cue the jockey strode out of the barn and into the arena. He had a brief exchange with the stable boy, who seemed somewhat agitated. But then, the boy was easily excitable when it came to the horse. In many ways, Matías appreciated that. The boy was passionate about the horses, it could not be denied, and while he found it somewhat unorthodox to have one who must be quite inexperienced handling such things, he could not deny that the horses responded to him.

Fernando took the lead rope out of the boy’s hand, and Matías gripped the sides of his chair, sitting upright and leaning forward. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Matías said.

“The boy or the jockey?” Liliana asked.

Matías glanced over at the boy, who was looking downright angry now. “Either one.”

The boy crossed his arms and watched as Fernando approached Fuego, and abruptly swung himself up onto the horse’s back.

Before Matías could react, the boy was crossing the arena, flinging himself into the path of the horse, who was beginning to panic.

“Dios mio,” Matías said, moving as quickly as he could.

The horse threw Fernando, and then his hoof clipped the boy in the side of the head. It opened up a gash on his forehead, and he went down to the dirt.

Liliana was standing, a look of horror etched across her lovely features, her pink lips gone waxen.

“Stay back!” he shouted back to his fiancée. The last thing he needed was for her to get in the path of that animal. It was certainly not good for a boy to be anywhere near that animal when it was in a rage. He was not going to allow a woman in there, as well.

Fernando was already standing, backing away from the angry horse. Matías was going to fire the man, and make sure everyone knew he was irresponsible. But first, he had to make sure his youngest employee was alive.

He bent down, holding his hand in front of the boy’s nose. He was breathing. So there was that. But he was bleeding, and he was unconscious. Matías tore his shirtsleeve and pressed the cloth up against the boy’s forehead, lifting his slight form into his arms and carrying him toward the truck.

“Medico!” he shouted, putting the boy inside the truck.

Liliana had mobilized, and he knew that she was ensuring that a doctor was called.

Then he began to drive back to the house, hoping that his initial prediction of the horse killing the boy did not prove to be true.




CHAPTER THREE (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)


CAMILLA FELT WOOZY, and when she came back to herself, she felt first a shot of anger, followed by one of pain. She groaned, putting her hand to her forehead. “What?”

“You were kicked,” he said. “Not fully.”

She opened her eyes and the light hurt. But she saw that she was in a truck, and Matías was driving. “Well, yes. I imagine my head would hurt even worse if the horse had gotten me directly.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone infused with urgency.

She could hardly process the question. He had never asked her that before, and somehow it made her feel...warm. But then she realized he wasn’t asking her.

At least, not her, Camilla Alvarez. He was asking his stable boy. And still, it felt significant. Even though he was only asking to make sure she didn’t have a traumatic brain injury.

“Cam,” she said, giving the name that she had given to everyone else here.

“Well, do your very best to stay awake, Cam. It won’t do to have you falling asleep and not waking up, right?”

She tried to shake her head, but it hurt. “Yes,” she said.

She tried to hold her eyes open for the rest of the drive across the property, and then he put the truck in Park, getting out quickly and rounding to her side of the vehicle, opening the door and grabbing hold of her, pulling her into his strong arms. Holding her against his broad chest.

She suddenly felt weaker, but it wasn’t because of the lack of blood, or from the hoof to the head. No, this weakness was squarely related to the fact that Matías Navarro was holding her close, like she mattered. Like she was special.

No, fool, he’s holding you close like you’re an injured child. Because that’s what he thinks you are.

“I sent for a local doctor,” he said, laying her down on the couch in the sitting room.

She took a moment to take in all of the details, as best she could. It was one way to try to keep her eyes open. One way to distract herself from the heat and strange tremors that were rolling over her.

Shock.

It had to be shock.

“Calling for emergency services would have taken too long. If we need to send you to a hospital, we can do that. But I would feel better if we brought someone directly to look at you now.”

Just like that, she felt suddenly much more awake. Because being examined by a doctor would be problematic, all things considered. And going to a hospital, even more so.

But she couldn’t say that. Anyway, she was in no fit condition to spring up off the couch and do anything. Much less run away and deny that she needed any medical attention.

She lay back, looking around the room. At the ornate scrollwork on the crown molding, at the way that it was mirrored in the wood carvings on the plush, pale blue upholstered chairs.

“Not my design choice,” he said. “My flat in London and my penthouse in Barcelona look different.”

“I...Nothing seems strange about it.”

“Of course not,” he said, his expression opaque. “Tell me, how long were you homeless?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I mean, I was certainly in danger of becoming homeless once Cesar died.” Her heart clutched with grief. Because, after all, even though she was playing the part of a stable boy from her father’s rancho, she was not. It was her father, and she still couldn’t speak of him without feeling pain.

“And before you came to work for Cesar Alvarez?” he asked.

She bit her tongue. Because she was simply going to have to fabricate from here. They had a boy that had worked at the rancho for a while before her father had paid for him to go away to school. His parents had died, and he had fallen through the cracks of child welfare. It felt wrong to steal his story, but it was also the easiest thing to do under the circumstances.

“I never knew my father,” she said, the line tasting like acid, particularly as she had just been thinking about the loss of her father. “My mother died when I was only nine. I was on my own for a while, but then I wandered onto Cesar Alvarez’s ranch. He gave me work. He gave me purpose. Education. But horses are what I love. They’re what I know. I followed the horses.”

Matías nodded. “I love them, too. It is in my blood. My family has had this rancho for generations. It means a great deal to me.”

“If this is your place, why don’t you redecorate?”

Matías crossed to the armchair across from her, picking up a crystal decanter full of sherry. He poured some into a glass. He did not offer any to her. But then, that was because he thought she was fourteen.

Well, probably also because he didn’t want her to fall asleep.

“It is not mine,” he said, taking a sip of the liquid, then swirling it slightly. He set it down on the table with a decisive click. “It will be. But as it is now, my grandfather is very ill and he has laid out terms. Depending on what my brother and I do before he dies, that is how he will decide who gets what. If both of us comply, we will split it down the middle. If only one of us does, then to the victor goes the spoils.”

“What are his terms?” she asked, blinking.

“It’s good that I’m keeping you awake with my story, but it might be a little bit too much information. Suffice it to say, I have low expectations that my brother will be able to complete said terms. My brother is not a good man.”

“They say...”

He tilted his head to the side, his expression no longer passive. “What do they say?”

Immediately, she regretted starting that line of conversation. “I know about your brother.”

Everyone did.

“Of course.”

“They say he was responsible for the death of his wife.”

“Yes, they do.”

She tried to straighten. “Do you believe it?”

“When it comes to Diego it is difficult for me to disbelieve much of anything. Except...” He frowned, hesitating for the space of a breath. “I don’t believe he murdered Karina. I will not say he didn’t have some level of responsibility for it. But he has also never tried to clear his name. Which is also just very like him. And difficult to apply a motive to.”

“They talk about you, too,” she said, realizing that this perhaps was not the best line of conversation. But she blamed her head injury. Also, the fact that when he was near it was difficult to breathe. And it made her feel dizzy.

“Do they?”

“They say you don’t... That you don’t hire women to work for you.”

It was a deadly game that she was playing. At least, it felt that way to her. But Matías never looked at her closely. He looked at her the way he did the rest of his staff. Dismissively, though, not unkindly. He was energetic, and always seemed to be looking around, his focus never bound to one place for too long.

She had a feeling that if he was to ever truly look at her he would see much more than she wanted him to.

“It’s true,” he said, inclining his head, his arrogant mouth curving upward.

“Wh-why is that? You don’t think women are good with horses?”

“Of course not,” he said, waving his hand. “The problem is, they always fall in love with me.”

The words hit Camilla in an uncomfortable space. Because she wasn’t neutral to him. Of course, she wasn’t in love. That was ludicrous. But she certainly wasn’t immune to him, and she could see how it was possible that women might position themselves to get a job at the rancho simply to gain access to him.

“Perhaps,” Matías said, “it is something you will understand when you’re older.”

Irritation prickled her face. “I understand it well enough now.”

Matías chuckled. “Of course.”

“That’s very closed-minded of you, actually,” she said.

Matías arched a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “There are some men who might fall in love with you, as well.”

He laughed at that. “I suppose that is a possibility, given that I am replete with charm. However, I have never gone up to my bedroom to find one of my male employees naked in residence.”

Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh.”

“Indeed.”

She was starting to feel dizzy, and she let her head fall back to the arm of the settee, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The room was beginning to swirl around her. A confection of gold, blue and white.

“Cam,” Matías said. “Stay with me.”

She jerked upward. “Stay with you?”

She was feeling confused again. The differences between Cam and Camilla beginning to seem fuzzy. The reason for him asking her to stay becoming ambiguous in her mind.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said.

She blinked. Of course. Of course that was what he was asking her to do. He wasn’t asking her to stay with him. As in...to stay in the house. As in, to be Camilla with him.

He didn’t know who she was. And frankly, she didn’t know who he was.

It had been much easier when he was nothing more than the faceless villain who had purchased her father’s horses. Who had taken advantage of the state of the rancho, and of her father’s debts.

He did not seem like a villain now. He was kind. And he cared about the horses. Also, surprisingly, he seemed to care whether or not she died. Though he had made it pretty clear that it was an investigation he wanted to avoid. But perhaps, he also cared whether or not she was dead.

It was strangely warming.

But then, that perhaps could also be the head injury.

Suddenly, the doors opened and the doctor and Juan came into the room. She was caught up in a flurry of being checked over, examined. But thank God, it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to go to a hospital. The doctor looked into her eyes and deemed them clear.

And then he ushered Juan and Matías from the room. The older man looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

“Your name?”

“Cam,” she responded.

“Age?”

She looked away. “Fourteen.”

“Have you any parents?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you going to tell me the truth?” The older man looked at her with eyes that were far too piercing, far too knowing.

She shook her head, her throat growing dry. “That is as much of the truth as I can tell you.”

“I must tell you,” the doctor said. “I care a great deal for Matías. I treated him when he was a boy. When that father of his would injure him, give him a black eye, I was the one the staff would call to care for him, and I care for him still. I will not have him taken advantage of.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of him,” she said.

“I believe you. I’m not sure why. Only that I spend a great deal of my time taking care of people. Looking at people. That is the only reason your ruse has worked so far. People like Matías... They train themselves to never look at anyone too closely. But that is what I do. Examine people.”

“My head is all right?” she asked.

“Yes. Though I recommend you do not sleep outside. And that you don’t work out in the sun for a few days. I will speak to Matías about this.”

When the old doctor left the room her stomach twisted. What if he was lying? What if he was going to betray her? Tell her secret? Clearly, he had recognized that she was a woman and not a boy. He had no actual reason to trust her, no matter what he said. Except for some reason she also had a feeling that he would not lie when the truth would serve just as easily.

Because he’d had no reason to placate her. None at all. He could have raised the alarm immediately when he had realized that she was a woman, but instead he had sent Matías and Juan from the room.

Still, she picked at her fingernails, twisted her fingers, nerves overtaking her as she waited.

Matías came back in, his expression dark, stormy. “The doctor has recommended that I set up a room for you inside the house, at least for the next couple of nights. To make you more comfortable, and to ensure that you aren’t by yourself.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling guilty now. Because this was becoming more than simply taking care of the horses. This was becoming something more.

He was extending hospitality to her now, and she was lying to him.

But it wasn’t to hurt him. It wasn’t to take advantage of him. It was for Fuego.

Yes, for Fuego, but also for her own damaged heart. Because she had lost so much, and she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of not having the horses, too.

She discovered fairly quickly that, in fact, a great many members of Matías’s household staff were women.

She looked quizzically at the elderly woman who led her to the bedroom. “He told me he didn’t hire women,” she commented.

“He does not hire young women,” she replied. “Particularly not to work with the horses. He is rarely home, but he is often out at the stables when he’s here. So, those are the people he interacts with most often.” She shook her head. “He had quite a few girls make appalling fools of themselves for him some years ago.”

Camilla took some sense of relief in that assurance as she put on the sweats that had been brought to her from her quarters. At least she hadn’t engaged in this ruse because of a false rumor.

That would have been truly untenable.

But she wasn’t going to concern herself with that. Not now. She settled herself into the bed—the softest thing she had felt against her skin in months—and tried to stay awake, simply because she felt comfortable, truly comfortable, in the way she had grown up for the first time in so long she wanted to bask in it.

But she couldn’t stay awake. And eventually, she gave in and let sleep pull her under.




CHAPTER FOUR (#ud6a35227-a3e5-5e1b-891d-532344225730)


IT WAS THE screams that woke him up. Then at first, he was convinced that he was dreaming. Dreaming of that day that was buried back in his mind, so deep, so far, that his waking consciousness would never dare dredge it up. But in his dreams...his dreams were all women and horses screaming.

But it took only a few moments for him to realize that it wasn’t screaming in his head. But in reality.

And he had one thought, only one thought, that the screams were coming from Liliana.

He tore himself out of bed and ran across the house, feeling a jumble of emotions, mixed memories combined with the reality of what was happening. Of course he should never have brought a woman here. Not one so delicate as she was.

Of course he should have known that the curse of the Navarro men—or rather, the women that they took as their own—would come to pass.

Ridiculous. She was having a nightmare, or, she had seen a spider. Something easily explainable. He was telling himself that as he made his way down the hall. But then he heard the screams of his housekeeper, and that was when true fear overtook him.

Heart raging, sweat beading on his back, he raced to Liliana’s room, only to discover that the door was flung open wide, as was the window, her lacy curtains blowing in the breeze. They were three floors up.

Surely, if Liliana wasn’t happy she wouldn’t resort to flinging herself out a window to escape him. All she would’ve had to do was ask.

That absurd thought wormed its way into his mind as he ran to the window and looked down below, half expecting to see her inert, white nightgown-clad form crumpled in the grass. But she was not there.

He looked across the broad expanse of lawn and saw her. That white, flowing figure—her nightgown and her pale blond hair—whipping in the breeze. But she was not alone. There was a black shadow that seemed to be consuming her, holding her fast.

Diego.

He knew it. Deep in his bones, he knew. His brother had stolen his bride.

And then, just like that, they were gone. Disappeared completely. Diego had Liliana.

He issued orders to his staff in rapid-fire Spanish, and only after a few moments did he see the boy standing there in the hall, his eyes wide, fear etched over his youthful face.

“Go back to bed,” he commanded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Liliana has been taken,” he responded, not seeing any point in being dishonest.

The boy swore. “By who?”

“By my brother.”

Camilla still wasn’t allowed to go back to work because of her injury, and that meant that she was currently tied to the house, wandering the halls and feeling far too conspicuous.

But if anyone had been even close to looking at her before, they were not doing so now. Everyone was consumed with the search for Liliana Hart, who had been—it appeared—kidnapped out of her bedroom window by Matías’s older brother.

Diego Navarro.

And as that search waged on, Camilla had far too much time to simply sit and think. To wonder about the manner of man Diego was, and to attempt to piece it together with what kind of information she had gotten from the doctor. About what kind of man Matías’s father had been.

The old doctor had said that Matías had been injured by his father, and he had spoken of it as though it had been routine. Camilla could scarcely wrap her mind around that. Around such horror.

She tried to remember if she had ever heard anything about Matías’s father, but she couldn’t remember, as all of those rumors were obscured by those about his brother. People did talk about Diego. About how his pregnant wife had died, and how the circumstances had all seemed quite suspicious.

But of course, all of this had been done under the guise of saying prayers for the family, careful bits of gossip wrapped in concern.

Matías, for all that he had a reputation of being hard, also had a reputation for being good.

She had the feeling that none of the other Navarro men held such a claim.

She heard footsteps and scampered deeper into the library, where she was currently attempting to waste some hours. She settled into an armchair near the fireplace, grateful that the only light in the room came from the flames there and a small lamp positioned across the room.

Then she heard voices outside the door.

“Any word at all?” It was Matías’s voice.

“None,” came an unfamiliar response. “The grounds were searched thoroughly, but somehow, they seemed to have disappeared by the time we got to where the car was abandoned.”

Matías let out a derisive snort. “I imagine, knowing my brother, a helicopter was involved.”

Camilla raised her brows, putting her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound that might give her away.

“You are certain it was your brother?”

“Oh, I am certain. There is little I would put beyond his boundaries.”

“I am sorry,” the other man said. “But if they are not in Spain any longer there isn’t much we can do. We have no leads.”

“And my brother has not resurfaced anywhere else in Europe yet,” Matías said. “I’ve been keeping watch on his various haunts. Or rather, having certain people in my employ do so. Diego seems to have gone underground.”

“We will do our very best. He will not be able to come back into the country without us knowing. That is certain.”

She heard footsteps, then she heard Matías muttering about the fact that he had likely gained entry into the country without their knowing this time. She could see that he had little confidence in law enforcement at the moment.

The door opened a crack, and Camilla sank farther back into the armchair, wishing that there was something she could hide behind. She didn’t want to be alone in a room with Matías again. It had been confronting enough when she had been lying there with a head injury. At least then he had been concerned for her well-being and had likely only been looking at her to figure out how injured she was.

She just didn’t want to encourage any more moments where he saw her clean, where he saw her in a domestic setting, without the sun in his eyes. Anything that might reveal her to him.

Plus, there was the simple fact that whenever she was in a room with him he made it feel so much smaller. And somehow he felt large. Something about that magnetism filling her chest, making her feel hollow, all at the same time.

She felt aches in places she was not normally conscious of, aches that she didn’t know a remedy for.

He made her aware that she was a woman. Much more aware than she had ever been in her life, and certainly more aware than she wanted to be when trying to pass for a boy.

“Cam,” Matías said, “I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

“Sorry,” she said, starting to stand. “I can go somewhere else.”

He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I am sorry,” she said, “about Liliana.”

She was sorry. Sorry that the other woman had been taken, that she was likely afraid. No matter what Matías said she supposed it was entirely possible that Diego actually was a killer, in which case Liliana might be in actual danger.

But in many ways she wasn’t actually sorry that the other woman was gone. Which was awful. Except that he made her feel funny. Made her feel light-headed. Made her bones feel heavy.

“So am I,” he said, his tone fierce. “I must find her. There is no other option.”

“You will,” she said, “of course.” She knew that it was an unearned confidence, but it was clearly what he needed to hear. She wanted to tell him what he needed to hear. Wanted to make that arrogant mouth curve up into a smile again. Wanted his dark eyes to look at her with approval. Even if it could never be the kind of approval or appreciation that part of her seemed to crave.

It was such a strange thing. Being caught between the urge to avoid him and to seek him out. To build a connection between the two of them and to keep their interactions limited. She wasn’t sure that she would ever understand what she wanted from him.

“I’m certain this has to do with the estate. I should have known that if Diego had no intention of complying he would ensure that I could not.”

“Surely your grandfather will...”

He shook his head. “My grandfather is not a nice man. You must understand...the men in my family believe in taking what they want without asking. I am from a long line of villains, Cam.” He smiled, a dark, feral smile, highlighted by the flames in the fire. “No matter that I’ve tried to aim for something better. My grandfather doesn’t care about scruples. I’m not sure that he will be impressed with my story. In fact, I suspect that he will take Diego’s side. A man must take what he can. If he must take the rancho this way, I assume my abuelo will find this a creative solution.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” she said.

“Because you do not know my family. Truthfully,” he said, “I should have seen this coming. Historically, women who marry Navarro men never come out of it well.”

“You’re speaking of your sister-in-law?”

He looked at her, clearly trying to decide how much to say. And then he surprised her by taking a seat. His large hands gripped the ends of the armrests, and she found herself fascinated by them. By their strength, their sheer masculinity. She had been around men all of her life, and yet somehow he was something separate. A different kind of creature. So much more than anyone else had ever been.

“I am speaking of my sister-in-law,” he said, pausing for a moment. “And my mother.” He shifted in his chair, those powerful legs spread wide. There was something gripping about that posture. It was casual, nearly lazy, and yet she knew that at a moment’s notice he could spring into action. All of that leashed strength.

To say nothing of how boldly masculine it was. The way he spread his legs as if to draw attention to...

She blinked. There was no way she was looking there. She just wouldn’t.





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