want me to marry you?’
‘Why me?’
And there too were her own foolish, unthinking words.
‘And this… And this… And this…’
‘What—who did you say?’
Her father’s voice. She had been so adrift on her memories that she hadn’t been aware of one of the servants coming to Alfredo and whispering in his ear.
‘Who?’
Alfredo shot her a coldly assessing glance, one that tugged every already taut muscle even tighter, twisted the nerves in her stomach until she gasped in pain.
‘Dario?’
For a second she thought that she had heard wrong. She had to have heard wrong. But then her father turned to her.
‘It seems that Ramón Dario has come to see you. Do you know why?’
Estrella opened her mouth but nothing would come out. Nothing but a weak, unintelligible croak that meant nothing at all.
It wasn’t possible. Ramón couldn’t be here. He just couldn’t. To her whirling mind it felt almost as if she had conjured him up in her thoughts, making him appear because of the power of her memories. She could only shake her head as Alfredo glared at her.
‘Well, I suppose we’d better see what he wants. Tell Señor Dario to come in.’
Even then, Estrella wasn’t convinced that it was true. Any moment now, she told herself, Rafael would come back and say it had all been a mistake. Or she would have heard the name completely wrong and he would bring in someone else entirely…
But then Rafael returned and behind him strode the tall dark man who had been in almost her every thought, waking and sleeping, since the day he had first appeared in her life.
He was dressed much more casually than she had everseen him. A soft blue polo shirt flattered the hard lines of his shoulders and chest while a pair of denim jeans hugged the length of his legs, the narrow hips and lean waist, outlining every muscle with a tightness that made her throat dry.
If he was surprised to find them at dinner—and with Ramirez there as their guest—then he didn’t show it. Those silvery eyes went straight to where she sat at the far side of the table, meeting her own troubled chocolate brown ones in a look that was both recognition and a challenge all in one moment. His gaze swept round the table, resting for a moment on Alfredo, a second longer on Ramirez, and she saw his eyes narrow swiftly before they returned to Estrella’s father.
‘Señor Medrano.’
Ramón’s swift, polite smile looked the epitome of courtesy, faultless in its restraint, the way that it embraced them all. Only someone as supremely sensitive to everything about him as Estrella would have noticed the way that it was not quite natural, the momentary hesitation before he switched it on, the speed with which it faded as soon as he could. Underneath it was a coldly controlled degree of distance that hardened his jaw line, tightened the muscles of his face and turned the stormy eyes to slivers of freezing grey ice.
‘Estrella…’
Ramón worked hard on controlling his voice and his expression though he was having to struggle to squash down the disgust and the anger that rose up inside him as he assessed the situation in the huge, impersonal dining room.
It didn’t take a genius to work out just what was going on. He had taken in the situation in a single, searching glance around the room, and if he’d needed any help then the look on Estrella’s face told its own story to anyone witheyes to see. Right now, Ramón felt that he could read her like a book.
She was dressed in a simple but elegant deep blue silk dress with a halter neck, and her hair was put up in some complicated, elaborate style that made his fingers itch to pull out the silvery combs that held the black strands in place. Her eyes dominated her face, deep, dark, clouded pools, fringed by impossibly long and dark lashes. But the extra make-up she wore, the careful shading and colouring, couldn’t disguise the shadows that lay just above the high, slanting cheekbones, the lines of
‘Why me?’
And there too were her own foolish, unthinking words.
‘And this… And this… And this…’
‘What—who did you say?’
Her father’s voice. She had been so adrift on her memories that she hadn’t been aware of one of the servants coming to Alfredo and whispering in his ear.
‘Who?’
Alfredo shot her a coldly assessing glance, one that tugged every already taut muscle even tighter, twisted the nerves in her stomach until she gasped in pain.
‘Dario?’
For a second she thought that she had heard wrong. She had to have heard wrong. But then her father turned to her.
‘It seems that Ramón Dario has come to see you. Do you know why?’
Estrella opened her mouth but nothing would come out. Nothing but a weak, unintelligible croak that meant nothing at all.
It wasn’t possible. Ramón couldn’t be here. He just couldn’t. To her whirling mind it felt almost as if she had conjured him up in her thoughts, making him appear because of the power of her memories. She could only shake her head as Alfredo glared at her.
‘Well, I suppose we’d better see what he wants. Tell Señor Dario to come in.’
Even then, Estrella wasn’t convinced that it was true. Any moment now, she told herself, Rafael would come back and say it had all been a mistake. Or she would have heard the name completely wrong and he would bring in someone else entirely…
But then Rafael returned and behind him strode the tall dark man who had been in almost her every thought, waking and sleeping, since the day he had first appeared in her life.
He was dressed much more casually than she had everseen him. A soft blue polo shirt flattered the hard lines of his shoulders and chest while a pair of denim jeans hugged the length of his legs, the narrow hips and lean waist, outlining every muscle with a tightness that made her throat dry.
If he was surprised to find them at dinner—and with Ramirez there as their guest—then he didn’t show it. Those silvery eyes went straight to where she sat at the far side of the table, meeting her own troubled chocolate brown ones in a look that was both recognition and a challenge all in one moment. His gaze swept round the table, resting for a moment on Alfredo, a second longer on Ramirez, and she saw his eyes narrow swiftly before they returned to Estrella’s father.
‘Señor Medrano.’
Ramón’s swift, polite smile looked the epitome of courtesy, faultless in its restraint, the way that it embraced them all. Only someone as supremely sensitive to everything about him as Estrella would have noticed the way that it was not quite natural, the momentary hesitation before he switched it on, the speed with which it faded as soon as he could. Underneath it was a coldly controlled degree of distance that hardened his jaw line, tightened the muscles of his face and turned the stormy eyes to slivers of freezing grey ice.
‘Estrella…’
Ramón worked hard on controlling his voice and his expression though he was having to struggle to squash down the disgust and the anger that rose up inside him as he assessed the situation in the huge, impersonal dining room.
It didn’t take a genius to work out just what was going on. He had taken in the situation in a single, searching glance around the room, and if he’d needed any help then the look on Estrella’s face told its own story to anyone witheyes to see. Right now, Ramón felt that he could read her like a book.
She was dressed in a simple but elegant deep blue silk dress with a halter neck, and her hair was put up in some complicated, elaborate style that made his fingers itch to pull out the silvery combs that held the black strands in place. Her eyes dominated her face, deep, dark, clouded pools, fringed by impossibly long and dark lashes. But the extra make-up she wore, the careful shading and colouring, couldn’t disguise the shadows that lay just above the high, slanting cheekbones, the lines of
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