Kate Walker - The Alcolar Family - The Twelve-Month Mistress / The Spaniard's Inconvenient Wife / Bound by Blackmail

The cynically sceptical look he turned on her declared that he found that very unlikely, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to continue.

‘You’re just out of hospital. You need a good night’s sleep and for that you need to be undisturbed.’

‘And you’ll disturb me?’

‘I—I might. Or you might let yourself be disturbed by me. Oh, come on, Joaquin!’ she risked a protest. ‘You promised me that you’d do as I said.’

‘I know I did—and I have. But this—’

He broke off abruptly, glowering at her darkly. Cassie held her breath in apprehension, not knowing what on earth she would do if he flat out refused to co-operate.

But Joaquin must have been even more tired and out of sorts than she had anticipated, because just as she had drawn in a breath to argue further, to try and persuade him to understand, he gave a deep sigh and lifted his shoulders in a shrug of concession.

‘All right. If that’s what you were told, I suppose I can’t argue.’

‘It was!’ Cassie assured him, crossing her fingers against the small white lie. ‘Doctors’ orders.’

‘And I promised…’

‘Yes, you did.’

Still he held out, looking into the room, black eyes going from the bed to her taut, anxious face and back again.

‘All right, then,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll go along with this for now—because I promised. But let me make one thing plain…’

When he hesitated Cassie froze, knowing she wasn’t going to like what was coming.

‘I’ll go along with this for tonight. And only tonight. Tomorrow is another day and tomorrow I want things back to normal—or I’ll want to know why.’

CHAPTER NINE

JOAQUIN arrived back at the house in a mood that had him ready to do battle. He had had enough of messing about, not asking questions, avoiding the issues, and tonight he was going to get some answers.

It was either that or explode.

He had spent the day out at one of the vineyards, dealing with business, talking vines, blends, wine, in an effort to distract his mind from the suspicions and fears that were a constant nag inside his head, worrying and fretting at him until his thoughts were one great ache of unease. One that nothing he did seemed to improve.

He’d taken the wrong approach on the first night home, he admitted that now, if only to himself. Challenging Cassandra like that, and threatening her with confrontation, had been quite the wrong way to go. He’d known it as soon as he’d seen her head come up, the flash in her eyes, that defiant chin tilted in rebellion. And the long night in which, in spite of his exhaustion, he hadn’t been able to sleep had only confirmed his feeling even more.

Whatever had happened between himself and Cassandra during the time his mind had lost, playing the autocrat and dictating the rules was not likely to help. Continue to push her down that route, and he was heading for disaster.

So he had moved onto another tack, deciding to see just how far she would take this. And for how long.

‘I realise I was being pigheaded about things,’ he told her the next morning. You’re only acting on those doctors’ orders. And trying to do what you believe is best for me. I should appreciate your concern—I do…’

It would have sounded better if he could have projected an ounce more sincerity into his voice, but that was more than he could manage. Oh, he appreciated her concern all right, but it infuriated the hell out of him at the same time. To his mind, sleeping apart was taking things just too far.

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