Lucy Ellis - Kept At The Argentine's Command

Alejandro had bought the sandwich with an eye to her turning up her pert little nose at plastic-wrapped food. His preconceptions took a solid hit.

‘I had a king’s breakfast,’ he said shortly. ‘Eat up.’

Lulu gave an internal sigh. So much for the thaw.

Half an hour up the road, Alejandro flipped his phone onto speaker.

A male voice began to speak in Spanish, and Alejandro replied in the same language.

Lulu found herself transfixed by the deep, mellifluous quality of his voice as he spoke his own language. Then a Scot’s voice came on the line.

‘We’re pleased to have you here in Edinburgh, Mr du Crozier. Congratulations on captaining South America to that win in Palermo. It warms a Scotsman’s heart to see the English floundering on a field.’

Lulu’s head snapped around at that. What was this?

Alejandro chuckled. ‘No problem at all,’ he said easily in his smooth, deep voice. ‘It was a good match.’

Lulu felt as if she’d had the rug pulled out from under her. Where had this come from? The smile, the ease, the charm?

‘We will be sending our principal to you tomorrow, at your convenience and we’ll give you an aerial viewing of the property. Will it be just you, Mr du Crozier?’

‘Possibly one other.’ Alejandro glanced her way. ‘Two o’clock looks good.’

As he ended the call Lulu told herself not to make any enquiries—she would only look nosey.

‘I’m looking at property while I’m here,’ he said, his eyes on the road. ‘I’m thinking of investing in a golf course. It’s on a picturesque strip of land along the coast near Dunlosie.’

He didn’t look like a golfer. Although she suspected those broad shoulders and strong arms could hit a golf ball to the moon and back.

‘Do you play golf professionally?’ she ventured. When he raised an eyebrow she added hurriedly, so that she didn’t look stupid, ‘That man said something about you captaining a team?’

He smiled slightly. ‘Polo. I captained South America.’ He was watching her as if gauging her reaction. ‘It received some press coverage.’

Vaguely his name stirred a memory. She rather thought she ought to know it.

‘I have a little fame, Lulu.’

He must have read her frown.

‘Ah, oui.’

She tried not to look curious or impressed, or as if she cared. He was smiling to himself, and she wanted to tell him she didn’t care if he was famous, or who he knew. It wasn’t as if she was angling to spend any time with him when they reached the castle. She wasn’t interested in him. He was just transport.

She leaned forward and rummaged in her bag.

It was almost a relief to have her phone in her hand and something to concentrate on other than the magnetism of the man beside her.

He flicked on the sound system.

‘Is that necessary?’

Alejandro spared her a glance. ‘It passes the time.’

‘I’m trying to do some work.’

‘Games on your phone?’

‘Wedding plans. See.’ She held it up but he kept his eye on the wet road.

‘Isn’t that the bride and groom’s prerogative?’

‘I’m maid of honour,’ she said proudly. ‘I have responsibilities.’

Alejandro thumped the wheel with the heel of his hand.

‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded.

‘Santa Maria,’ he said under his breath, and after a moment began to chuckle.

‘What’s so funny?’

When he kept laughing her expression took on a look of bafflement, and for a moment she looked very young and decidedly adorable.

He didn’t want her to look adorable. He took another look. Definitely adorable. No wonder she had entitlement issues. He doubted there was a man alive who could resist those big brown eyes or her air of fragility.

It would bother him. If he was considering taking this anywhere. But since the day he had learned he’d inherited everything, in the form of the estancia and all the debts his father had collected, and gained nothing but his mother’s endless demands for more money, his wife’s desire for freedom and the everlasting dissatisfaction of his disinherited sisters he’d carried around the feeling that he’d let them all down.

Fragile women required a lot more than he was able to give.

‘I want to know why you’re laughing at me,’ she insisted.

‘I’m going to kill him.’

‘Kill who? What are you talking about?’

‘Fate. The universe. Khaled Kitaev.’

‘You’re not making any sense.’

‘I’m padrino de boda, querida.’

She had a blank look on her face that made him want to spin this out a little longer, because watching her lose a little of that tight composure was almost worth the hassle.

He relented and filled her in. ‘Best man.’

She dropped her device and it slithered through her satin skirt and thumped at her feet.

‘You can’t be!’

‘I am.’

‘But we don’t like each other.’ She clamped her mouth shut, as if she couldn’t believe that had just slipped out.

No, maybe not, but he’d just discovered he did like her. She might be spoiled and self-centred, but he lived in a world where most women fell at his feet.

Lulu Lachaille would fall, if he applied the right pressure here and there, but she wasn’t going to trip herself up.

She might just be what he was looking for this weekend after all.

Distraction from the spectacle that was a wedding, where everybody mouthed belief in fidelity and love ever after but nobody in his world practised it.

Although he had to admit Khaled and Gigi did seem to be that rarest of unions—a couple who genuinely liked one another.

And he liked Gigi’s little friend, with her pretty curls and her rosebud pout and her French girl’s way of looking as if she was bored and it was his job to entertain her.

‘I wouldn’t say I don’t like you,’ he said, checking out her pretty knees, just visible under the froth of her netted underskirt. Her hands went there immediately, smoothing it down.

‘Not in that way,’ she said crossly. ‘I don’t want you to like me that way at all. I mean in a platonic sense. In a maid of honour and best man duty sense.’

‘Now I’m a duty? Careful, querida, you’ll damage my ego.’

‘I doubt that,’ she said repressively.

He grinned.

She looked decidedly flummoxed.

‘You’ll need to make an effort, then,’ she blurted out almost defensively.

‘I intend to.’

Lulu tried to ignore the fact that she felt hot all over. Was he flirting with her?

‘I’m serious. You’ll have to be polite to me so people don’t notice anything’s wrong.’

But something is wrong, thought Lulu, checking him out surreptitiously. Why did he have that sexy half-smile sitting at the corner of his mouth? He kept looking at her and she didn’t want him to look at her. It made her feel most unlike herself.

‘The best man has duties with the maid of honour,’ she persevered staunchly, feeling as if she was drowning in something and holding on to talk of the wedding as a life buoy.

‘Sí, I believe he does.’

Not those kind of duties. The thought just appeared in her head. It should have embarrassed her, and her heart was racing crazily, but a big part of her was actually enjoying the attention.

Alejandro du Crozier was flirting with her and she wasn’t diving for the nearest manhole to escape.

Probably because she knew she wouldn’t be seeing him again after this weekend.

It wasn’t as if he was going to ask her out. This was just a straightforward few hours in a car together, and then there was the weekend... Maybe it would be okay just to pretend for a few hours that she was normal and he was...interested?

That was when the car gave a bit of a lurch, and the sound of rubber dragging on the road had Lulu gripping her seat.