KIM LAWRENCE: Santiago's Love-Child

‘You can’t say things like to me!’ she gasped while thinking, You can do just anything to me! Please do it now!

His earthy laugh made every downy hair on her body stand on end. Either he had meant it, or he was a spectacularly good liar! By that point Lily didn’t care which it was; she was burning up from the inside out with need.

His shoulders lifted expressively. ‘But I just did.’ His smile was a potent mix of tenderness and predatory ferocity.

He didn’t make any move to stop her when Lily, unable to resist temptation any longer, reached up and touched his lean cheek. ‘I want to see you, touch you.’

His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second as he took her fingers from his face and raised them to his lips.

‘And you shall,’ he promised. ‘If that is what you want?’

Lily shook her head. ‘I think…I don’t know…’

Santiago turned her hand over and traced a path across her palm with the pad of his thumb before touching the plain wedding band on her finger. His head lifted. ‘But you are thinking about your husband?’

I’M NOT thinking about him, but I should be.

Sucking in a mortified breath, Lily snatched her hand away. His question hadn’t just spoiled the mood, it had killed it stone-dead. And a good thing too, she told herself. Her marriage might be a total sham, but she was still married, and in Lily’s mind, despite yesterday’s reckless thoughts of revenge, Gordon’s repeated infidelities didn’t give her a licence to do the same.

If she had stopped to think about it, which she hadn’t, she would have assumed that Santiago hadn’t cottoned on to the fact she was married.

Easy to see how that could happen. She’d been partnerless when he’d seen her, and, unlike women, most men didn’t seem to notice things like a wedding band.

It now seemed that he had known she was married all along, and the fact nothing in his manner suggested he had a problem with it made Lily feel totally disgusted.

Not that she was in any position to condemn him. She hadn’t exactly run screaming for the hills, had she?

‘You shouldn’t feel bad.’

Bad! She deserved to feel wretched. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ she choked contemptuously. Obviously he wouldn’t recognise a moral if someone gave it to him gift-wrapped.

A really stomach-churning possibility occurred to her. Had he zeroed in on her because she was married? Lily knew there were some men out there, generally commitment phobics, who targeted married women because they didn’t want things to get serious. A married woman had clear advantages for that type of sleaze bag.

‘I do understand, and what you are feeling is natural,’ he soothed.

The compassion in his manner increased Lily’s growing anger.

‘Done this sort of thing a lot, have you?’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head away. Angrily she shrugged off the hand that he put lightly on her arm.

‘I have handled this badly,’ she heard him observe heavily.

Lily’s chin lifted. ‘So sorry things didn’t turn out the way you planned,’ she retorted bitterly.

Santiago studied her face before gravely observing, ‘It is natural to feel a degree of guilt, a sense that you are being unfaithful—’ Lily goggled incredulously at him; this man had to be the most insensitive ‘—to your husband’s memory. I respect you for the way you feel, I really do. In an age when so many place very little value on their marriage vows, your devotion is admirable.’

There was a short time delay before her brain computed what he had said and arrived at the unlikely conclusion—somehow he had the bizarre idea that she was widowed.

Oh, Lord! It should be fun explaining to someone who thought she was a faithful, devoted, grieving widow that her husband was alive and well, and her devotion was the sort that vanished at the first sniff of temptation.

‘But you are alive, querida, and you are a passionate beautiful woman, with your life ahead of you.’ He took her face between his hands. ‘I’m sure your husband would have wanted you to be happy. And though I’m sure you won’t believe me, one day,’ he prophesied confidently, ‘you will love again. And until then…’

‘Until then…?’

His hands fell away. ‘Until then you have needs…appetites…’

‘That’s where you come in?’ Why was she feeling so let down? He was hardly going to tell her that he wanted anything other than to take her to bed. At least he was honest.

‘You’re not going to deny the attraction between us exists.’

Lily shook her head and wondered what he’d say if she admitted she had never felt anything that even came close to this before.

‘Do not let being hurt once make you afraid to live.’

‘I’m not,’ she said, and realised that for the first time in a long time—perhaps ever—this was true. She took a deep breath; it was time to put him straight. ‘As for Gordon, you’ve got that all wrong. I’m actually totally furious with him.’

‘I believe it is not uncommon to feel angry with a loved one who dies. You blame them for leaving you.’

Eyes closed, Lily gave a frustrated sigh and let her head fall back. I tried, I really tried, and what do I get? Understanding and amateur psychology!

‘No, my husband isn’t—’

A nerve clenched in Santiago’s lean cheek as he cut across her. ‘We keep those we love in our hearts, but there comes a time when we must let go.’

Lily, who would have preferred to put Gordon in a damp, dark, rat-filled cellar, not her heart, stared up at him, her eyes scrunched up in concentration as she tried to figure out how on earth he could have got the idea she was a widow.

‘What made you think that my husband is dead?’

‘Everyone knows.’

‘People know?’ Oh, heavens, that explained some of the sympathetic looks she’d been getting. They all had her down as a brave, plucky widow on some sort of romantic pilgrimage!

And here was me thinking how lovely and friendly everyone was.

He nodded. ‘I know hotels are meant to be anonymous, but a woman alone in the honeymoon suite is a subject of conjecture. The staff knew the booking was made by your husband, so obviously when you turned up without him they speculated.’

‘You’d think they’d have something better to do,’ she snapped.

‘And then you told Javier…’

‘I didn’t tell Javier anything; I don’t know any Javier.’ She stopped. ‘Oh, no!’ Her questioning eyes flew to his face. ‘Do you mean the boy at Reception…?’

‘The “boy” has a three-year-old son, but, yes, he works Reception sometimes. He’s actually a trainee manager.’

Lily wasn’t really listening to his explanation; she was recalling arriving back from Baeza and going to pick up her room key. The details, due to the after-effects of the wine, were a bit hazy, but she could remember the chap behind Reception looking embarrassed when tears sprang to her eyes after he asked when her husband would be joining her.

‘He won’t be joining me.’ The realisation hit her. He never intended to. ‘He’s gone. He’s really gone for good.’

Lily absently massaged the tight skin around her temples. One problem solved—she now knew the why. She only had now to figure out how to tell him her husband was alive and well and therefore she was not available.

‘Have breakfast with me?’

‘What?’

‘Breakfast. Not here, if that’s what’s bothering you. I know a place about half an hour’s drive away. You need a four-wheel drive to get there,’ he admitted, ‘but, believe me, it is worth it. The setting is superb,’ he enthused. ‘The food is not fancy, but it’s made with fresh local produce and beautifully cooked. Luis has a huge wood-burning oven outside and you can eat alfresco.’