Читать книгу Modern Romance January Books 1-4 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 18

WHEN CAMILLA WOKE UP, she was immediately yanked out of bed and into some kind of alternative reality.

She was sent straight into a lavish bedroom much different than the one she had been staying in when she had been Cam, the stable boy. This one was sumptuous, frilly and quite a bit more feminine than the one she had existed in back at home. It didn’t take long for her to realize that she had been installed in Liliana’s old room.

That she was being used as a direct replacement, even down to being sent to the same lacy surroundings full of flowing curtains and billowing canopies.

If the housekeeper found it strange that she was making this transition, she didn’t say anything. If she found it strange when a rack filled with clothing was brought in, and a basket of lush toiletries was provided, she said nothing to that, either.

“You are to bathe,” the woman said, her tone brisk. “Use the bath salts, and all of the scented washes. And then there is an appointment with a stylist later.”

“Oh,” Camilla said, feeling slightly dizzy. Reeling over how quickly things were changing.

“You want to know why I’m not surprised,” the woman said. “It is because I knew the moment that I first saw you, that you were not a boy.”

“But Matías...”

“If he truly did not see,” the housekeeper said, “it is because he rarely pauses to look around him, not at the things he considers beneath his notice. It is why he hires people, you see. To deal with matters he finds unimportant.”

“I see,” she said.

“I’m not sure you do,” she responded. “But I think you will.”

After the other woman left, Camilla padded into the bathroom and took stock of all the finery there. The body washes, salts, soaps and scrubs. She opened the tops and smelled a few, setting aside some in lavender and some scented like warm brown sugar and honey.

Camilla stripped her clothes off slowly, relishing the lack of binding on her breasts. Enjoying the thought that she wouldn’t be binding them again today, or ever.

The tub itself was pale blue with gold claw feet, deep enough to submerge in, she thought. She turned on the golden tap and poured some bath salts beneath the churning water, scent blooming upward, wrapping itself around her.

Then when it was full, she stepped inside. She sighed. She could be free to linger in the warmth, to sink in to the bottom of her chin and lie back, letting the lavender-scented water carry her to another moment in time altogether.

Letting it take the weight from her shoulders, if only for a moment. The months of grief and stress, the heavy cloak of sadness.

When she went back to reality she would have to face the fact her father was still gone. But at least her own fate was secure.

At least there was that.

When she finally got out, she wrapped herself in the softest towel she had ever felt in her life and padded out into the bedroom where there was silk underwear laid across the bed and a simple summer dress. She felt so strange putting them on. Stranger still, when she looked in the mirror and saw that billowing fabric resting gently over her curves.

She felt... Well, even there in the isolation of her bedroom she felt hideously self-conscious.

If Matías imagined that she was going to have some great transformation where she became even half the beauty that Liliana was with a little bit of polish and a pretty dress, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Her hair was still short, and her face was still...well, her face.

Angles and hard lines much more suited to a man than a young woman, and no hair to disguise or soften it.

She didn’t have time to ruminate on this, however, because shortly after, breakfast was brought to her room.

Coffee and homemade jam on fresh bread. Huevos rancheros and bacon.

Now, that made her feel spoiled beyond anything. She had been existing on much more meager offerings and it was wonderful to fill herself completely.

As soon as she had finished the last sip of her coffee, her room was invaded again by three different women all talking at once. There was much clucking over her hair, and discussion about color palettes and various other things.

One of the women took out a pair of scissors and Camilla was appalled when she approached her and began to run her fingers through her hair.

“There’s not enough hair left to cut off!” Camilla protested.

“Trust me,” the woman said, “you will want me to smooth out this hatchet job, and once I do it will look like there’s more there.”

She began snipping, shaping what remained of Camilla’s dark hair. She left the top slightly longer, clipping the sides and the back shorter, and teasing it a little bit so that it looked much more like an artful, purposeful pixie cut then exactly what it was—exactly what the stylist had called it—a hatchet job. Something that Camilla had done to herself in a panicked rush with a pair of dull scissors.

Then the second woman began to get out various pots of makeup. An array of different colors that reminded Camilla of summer, sunsets and somehow, of candy.

Warm tones, golds and oranges were swept over her eyelids, her cheekbones, the hollows of her face, adding a sculpted look to her that she hadn’t known was possible to achieve. By the time her eyes had been lined and mascara added to her lashes, she felt that even her mother would be hard-pressed to say she had a masculine appearance.

It was strong, certainly, quite a bit more angular, perhaps, than many women would consider ideal. But she was shocked to discover that she found the woman looking back at her in the mirror to be beautiful.

“The short hair is quite nice on you,” the hairstylist said.

Camilla nodded, looking at herself, leaning in to try to get a better idea of everything. She was shocked.

“I didn’t know I could look like this.”

“It’s all about finding what works for you,” the woman said.

“I just... I was always told I wasn’t...”

“What?” the makeup artist asked.

“I was told I wasn’t beautiful,” she responded. “Too dark. Not petite enough. In my figure...”

“Your skin is such a beautiful golden brown,” the makeup artist said. “And you can wear gold tones that would make a paler woman look sallow. You have a strong beauty. Which means it will not always agree with everyone around you, but those who appreciate it will never find another woman to match you.”

“And as for your figure,” the woman who had done nothing yet, and therefore Camilla assumed was the stylist, “it is the kind many would envy. We simply need to find the right dress to show it off.”

“But why do I need a dress?” She knew that she would need a wedding gown, and the very idea of that made her stomach turn over.

“Because,” the woman said. “You have a ball to attend.”

By dinner that night Matías was in a foul mood. He had not seen Camilla at all, and in many ways he supposed that was for the best. They were going to dine together tonight, but she was late. He didn’t like tardiness. Not in the least.

He tapped his fingers on the table, still marveling at the changes that had occurred in his life in the past twenty-four hours. What had begun with a stable boy getting kicked in the head by a horse had ended with a kidnap, a shocking revelation and a marriage proposal.

Or more a marriage demand, he supposed.

But in the end, the semantics of it didn’t matter. Not really.

The door to the dining room opened and he looked up and was utterly stunned by what he saw. The woman walking in wearing a bright orange dress, her short, dark hair styled neatly, with the gold band around her head like a halo, looked like no one he had ever met before. And yet, at the same time, he recognized her.

There was no question that Cam was indeed a woman.

Her curves were slight, her body toned and athletic, but most definitely female. Her breasts were small and high, her waist slim, her hips sturdy, which was an odd descriptor, perhaps, but not a negative one.

It made a man want to test that strength. She was like a warrior goddess. All gold, bronze and a kind of glowing beauty that seemed nearly supernatural.

He curled his fingers into a fist and tried to gather his thoughts. She was a tool to be used to spite his grandfather, to thwart Diego. She was correct. If he wanted a woman for sex, he could easily acquire one. There were ways to go about keeping things discreet. He did consider himself a man of integrity, a man who would honor commitments once they were made. But so long as Camilla knew about the other women, as long as they were clear about the general state of their marriage, he saw no real issue with taking lovers. It was, indeed, a business transaction, sealed with a handshake as she had suggested. Then it shouldn’t matter.

“Hello,” she said, her shoulders slightly stiff, her expression difficult to read.

“So this is who you really are?” he asked.

“No,” she said, making her way down the side of the table, her fingertips brushing against the glossy surface as she did so delicate. If he had ever truly looked at those hands he would have known immediately that she was all woman. “This is a very polished version of me. Though it is the one you will see for the duration of this ruse, I have no doubt, so long as I have that team readily available when needed. I cannot accomplish this on my own.”

“Can you not? You are an heiress. I was under the impression that women like you learned these things from the womb. Isn’t your mother a great socialite and beauty?”

“I am the heiress of nothing but debts, as I’m sure you’re well aware. Meanwhile, my mother had little interest in a daughter, whether or not it was to raise her, or to teach her to use eyeliner. I was raised by my father.”

She took a seat with two chair spaces between them. “I spent my life with horses. My father let me run wild, I think because he felt bad for the way my mother treated me. For her disinterest in me. Or perhaps, it was simply because he was lonely, as she was equally disinterested in him. Whatever the reason, it meant that I had a rather unconventional upbringing, as they go.”

“He must have instilled a certain amount of boldness in you.”

“Cesar Alvarez was nothing if not bold. A man who continued to run his empire as though he possessed millions when he was, in fact, in debt, that amount could be expected to be nothing less, I suppose.”

“Did your father lie about a lot of things?”

She lifted a bare shoulder, and his eyes were drawn to that sleek, golden skin. She was a fascinating creature. To transform the way she had, from such a brown little sparrow beneath his notice, to this vision of gold and fire.

It didn’t matter, of course, not really. He needed a wife to appease his grandfather, and he needed a woman on his arm for this gala because dammit all, he had his pride.

He might not have loved Liliana, but losing a fiancée to his brother was not acceptable, regardless.

Having another woman on his arm to replace the one he’d lost suited him. The fact that Camilla was a rare beauty was a bonus.

“Not that I knew. But then I had no idea about the state of his finances, so I suppose it’s possible. I suppose it’s possible that I never knew him. That he concealed a great many things from me. But I do think that I knew his heart. He loved me. And he loved his horses. It’s why I feel so compelled to make sure that both are taken care of.”

“And self-interest, I would imagine.”

She nodded. “Self-interest certainly comes into it. I would like to not be homeless. And I miss the rancho. It was...in many ways my second parent. It raised me. The people on it raised me. It’s part of who I am. In my blood. I would do...nearly anything to be restored to it.”

“That, I think I can understand. I love this place,” he said, looking around the ornate dining room.

“Did you have a happy childhood here?” She looked away from him when she asked that question, almost as if she already knew.

But then he wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Rumors of his father’s temper certainly weren’t contained only to his village.

“I did not,” he responded. “My mother died here. My father was a tyrant. My grandfather before him was no better. I suppose you could say what I love about this place is that it endured. That it remains beautiful in spite of the ugliness that has bled itself all over the grounds. There are very few honest things in this world, and I think you and I agree on what they are. Horses, and church. These things... They will not fail. I wish to make this place something it should have been all along. Something better. Something that is not about serving the egos of the men in control of it.”

“And if Diego ends up with it...”

“He will be no different. He is not a man capable of love.”

Her brows creased at the center. “And you?”

“There are things that I love. Or, if not love, then things that I feel a sense of obligation to. I have never understood the benefit of caring only for myself. I would rather invest in what is around me. Make no mistake, I am a difficult man, and I know you have seen this. My reputation speaks to that. But I consider myself a man of honor. Because I have seen what happens when a man turns away from it. When he has no code. No allegiance to anyone but himself. I will not be that man.”

“Do you want to have a family here?”

He looked around, a strange tightness in his chest. “I had imagined I might. I felt it was the way to secure my hold on this place. Now I wonder if there is something else. It is perhaps best if I don’t marry.”

“You don’t want children?”

The very idea of something so small and helpless in his care made him feel a sense of unease. “If I had a son,” he said. “I believe he would spend most of the time in the company of his mother and also being raised away from me here on the rancho. I am here now because of the circumstances, but my primary obligations are in London.”

“I understand,” she said.

“But you do not approve.”

“I know what it is,” she said, raising her dark gaze to meet his, “to have a parent who’s not at all interested in your existence.”

“Sometimes that disinterest can be a kindness,” he said. “What was your time spent with your mother like?”

She ducked her head. “Difficult. She did not... She didn’t have the patience for me. And she despaired of my lack of beauty.”

“The only thing, I think, worse than being neglected by her would have been to spend more of your time in her company.”

She surprised him by laughing, her shoulders jolting forward as she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. “I suppose that’s true. And a much more honest assessment of the situation than I have allowed myself to, given the past. She’s terrible. And she’s gone off to Paris to live with a lover, and I hope she stays there.”

“She abandoned you? What were your prospects if you had not followed the horses here?”

“Homelessness. In that regard I did not lie to Juan when he hired me. I would have been tossed out onto the streets. There was no money. There was nowhere for me to go. No provision was made for me at all. I know that my father didn’t expect to die so young. I know he thought that he was going to fix everything. That there was still time. And I think he didn’t want me to know how difficult things were. How dire it had all become. He wanted to protect me.”

“Sadly, his version of protecting you left you vulnerable,” Matías said.

She nodded. “Yes.”

They paused in their talking for a moment when his household staff came in and delivered large bowls of paella.

Then they ate in silence for a moment before Camilla lifted her head and treated him to another look from that luminous dark gaze. “What ball are we going to next week?”

“It is a charity gala,” he responded. “It is where I will present you formally as my fiancée. Likely, it will be bigger than our actual wedding.”

“Well, yes. I can see how difficult it might be to get together a large wedding ceremony in the amount of time we have.”

“Well, the venue is already selected, and people have already been invited. It’s just that the bride has changed.”

She frowned. “That feels quite...reductive.”

“Well, the bride is not important to me. Only the marriage.”

She lifted a brow. “Well, in some ways I’m glad that Liliana escaped you in that case.”

“Liliana did not love me, either. She would hardly have been heartbroken by this.”

“I suppose she didn’t,” Camilla responded. “But she seemed... She seemed very sweet.”

He bit back an acidic laugh. “Apparently not.”

“Did she hurt you?” she asked.

“No,” he said, then again, more definitively. “No.” He had planned on marrying her, and he didn’t like his plans being upended. But hurt? No. That would necessitate that he’d had feelings for Liliana that went beyond vague appreciation of her beauty. And he did not. “I felt...protective of her. As she did seem sweet. Sheltered. But it always made me feel as though I was trying to corral a baby chick. One that was fragile and delicate and might break at any moment.”

Camilla squared her shoulders. “I am not so breakable.”

He appraised her for a moment. “I did not think you were.”

She lowered her head and he examined her features. Long, elegant neck, her strong jawline and the sweeping curve of her lips. She was actually quite the beauty. Her brows were dark and bold, her eyelashes no less so. She was the kind of woman a man would find himself hard-pressed to look away from once she had caught his attention.

The kind of woman who would stand out, a regal, steady creature in a room full of butterflies.

His gut tightened, and he had to acknowledge that he was beginning to find himself attracted to his fiancée.

“Do you know how to dance?” he asked, the question, and the need for an answer, suddenly occurring to him.

“A bit,” she said, hesitating. “I mean, we would dance at fiestas at the rancho. Informal gatherings. Always attended by all members of the staff. My father was...generous. Egalitarian.”

“You will find this gala to be anything but. It will be appallingly formal, and every woman in residence will be ready to pick you apart. Especially given the nature of our engagement. It would perhaps be best if you were as prepared as possible. I get the sense that while you grew up with a certain amount of privilege, it was not the same sort that Liliana possessed.”

A challenge lit her eyes. “I would suggest that my upbringing produced a much stronger person. My father allowed me to work. He allowed me to fail. He taught me to take chances. And he allowed me to work with the horses. It’s in our blood.”

“Having seen you with the horses, I believe it. But that is not going to help you when it comes to fending off attacks of a rather more feminine nature.”

“Why would these attacks be of a feminine nature?”

“Because jealousy is an ugly thing,” he said.

She frowned. “You’re quite obsessed with the idea that women are in love with you. Or, rather, on the verge of falling in love with you if the breeze blows in the wrong direction.”

“It has nothing to do with me,” he said. “Rather, my money, or the mystique of the Navarro family. The Navarro men.”

“I was under the impression that the men in your family did not have the best reputations.”

He shook his head. “That adds to it. Often. Good-looking men with dark pasts, desperately in need of reformation and something to spend their billions of dollars on.”

“That’s quite bleak.”

“You consider yourself above that temptation. Obviously. And yet, here you are, prepared to marry me for your financial benefit.”

She tilted her head to the side, her expression remaining steadfast. “And yet,” she said, “I am not in love with you. And I think it would take quite a bit more than a breeze to propel me in that direction.”

“Fair enough.”

“Furthermore,” she said, pressing her palms flat on the table and standing, “I do not want your money. Not in the generic sense. You know about my father’s estate. You have ownership of the horses. You are the clearest path to having my family assets restored. I have a very specific need of you, not just some generic billionaire.”

“Careful,” he said. “I’m likely to fall in love with you. As that was a very specific bit of praise.”

“I imagine you’ll do just fine.”

He stood then, closing the distance between them and reaching out, grasping hold of her fingers, lacing his through them and pulling her forward. He had been correct in his assessment of her. She was strong. But he had caught her off guard. Her dark eyes widened, her full lips dropping into a rounded oh.

Heat flared in his gut, an intense, visceral need to draw her in to his body. To close all the space between them. “Perhaps not,” he said, gripping her chin and tilting her face upward. He could see her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat, watched as her eyes grew even darker. As the slender brown rings around her pupils slimmed. He wanted to see if her mouth tasted as ripe and sweet as it looked like it might. Dios, how he wanted to sample that surprise that shaped her lips just so.

But he would not.

This was about the rancho, not about his own selfish desires. He did not use women. He never had. And he wouldn’t start with her.

He straightened, bringing her into a close hold. “We shall see how the dance lesson goes.”