Читать книгу The Spaniard's Untouched Bride - Maisey Yates - Страница 12

CAMILLA FELT WOOZY, and when she came back to herself, she felt first a shot of anger, followed by one of pain. She groaned, putting her hand to her forehead. “What?”

“You were kicked,” he said. “Not fully.”

She opened her eyes and the light hurt. But she saw that she was in a truck, and Matías was driving. “Well, yes. I imagine my head would hurt even worse if the horse had gotten me directly.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone infused with urgency.

She could hardly process the question. He had never asked her that before, and somehow it made her feel...warm. But then she realized he wasn’t asking her.

At least, not her, Camilla Alvarez. He was asking his stable boy. And still, it felt significant. Even though he was only asking to make sure she didn’t have a traumatic brain injury.

“Cam,” she said, giving the name that she had given to everyone else here.

“Well, do your very best to stay awake, Cam. It won’t do to have you falling asleep and not waking up, right?”

She tried to shake her head, but it hurt. “Yes,” she said.

She tried to hold her eyes open for the rest of the drive across the property, and then he put the truck in Park, getting out quickly and rounding to her side of the vehicle, opening the door and grabbing hold of her, pulling her into his strong arms. Holding her against his broad chest.

She suddenly felt weaker, but it wasn’t because of the lack of blood, or from the hoof to the head. No, this weakness was squarely related to the fact that Matías Navarro was holding her close, like she mattered. Like she was special.

No, fool, he’s holding you close like you’re an injured child. Because that’s what he thinks you are.

“I sent for a local doctor,” he said, laying her down on the couch in the sitting room.

She took a moment to take in all of the details, as best she could. It was one way to try to keep her eyes open. One way to distract herself from the heat and strange tremors that were rolling over her.

Shock.

It had to be shock.

“Calling for emergency services would have taken too long. If we need to send you to a hospital, we can do that. But I would feel better if we brought someone directly to look at you now.”

Just like that, she felt suddenly much more awake. Because being examined by a doctor would be problematic, all things considered. And going to a hospital, even more so.

But she couldn’t say that. Anyway, she was in no fit condition to spring up off the couch and do anything. Much less run away and deny that she needed any medical attention.

She lay back, looking around the room. At the ornate scrollwork on the crown molding, at the way that it was mirrored in the wood carvings on the plush, pale blue upholstered chairs.

“Not my design choice,” he said. “My flat in London and my penthouse in Barcelona look different.”

“I...Nothing seems strange about it.”

“Of course not,” he said, his expression opaque. “Tell me, how long were you homeless?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I mean, I was certainly in danger of becoming homeless once Cesar died.” Her heart clutched with grief. Because, after all, even though she was playing the part of a stable boy from her father’s rancho, she was not. It was her father, and she still couldn’t speak of him without feeling pain.

“And before you came to work for Cesar Alvarez?” he asked.

She bit her tongue. Because she was simply going to have to fabricate from here. They had a boy that had worked at the rancho for a while before her father had paid for him to go away to school. His parents had died, and he had fallen through the cracks of child welfare. It felt wrong to steal his story, but it was also the easiest thing to do under the circumstances.

“I never knew my father,” she said, the line tasting like acid, particularly as she had just been thinking about the loss of her father. “My mother died when I was only nine. I was on my own for a while, but then I wandered onto Cesar Alvarez’s ranch. He gave me work. He gave me purpose. Education. But horses are what I love. They’re what I know. I followed the horses.”

Matías nodded. “I love them, too. It is in my blood. My family has had this rancho for generations. It means a great deal to me.”

“If this is your place, why don’t you redecorate?”

Matías crossed to the armchair across from her, picking up a crystal decanter full of sherry. He poured some into a glass. He did not offer any to her. But then, that was because he thought she was fourteen.

Well, probably also because he didn’t want her to fall asleep.

“It is not mine,” he said, taking a sip of the liquid, then swirling it slightly. He set it down on the table with a decisive click. “It will be. But as it is now, my grandfather is very ill and he has laid out terms. Depending on what my brother and I do before he dies, that is how he will decide who gets what. If both of us comply, we will split it down the middle. If only one of us does, then to the victor goes the spoils.”

“What are his terms?” she asked, blinking.

“It’s good that I’m keeping you awake with my story, but it might be a little bit too much information. Suffice it to say, I have low expectations that my brother will be able to complete said terms. My brother is not a good man.”

“They say...”

He tilted his head to the side, his expression no longer passive. “What do they say?”

Immediately, she regretted starting that line of conversation. “I know about your brother.”

Everyone did.

“Of course.”

“They say he was responsible for the death of his wife.”

“Yes, they do.”

She tried to straighten. “Do you believe it?”

“When it comes to Diego it is difficult for me to disbelieve much of anything. Except...” He frowned, hesitating for the space of a breath. “I don’t believe he murdered Karina. I will not say he didn’t have some level of responsibility for it. But he has also never tried to clear his name. Which is also just very like him. And difficult to apply a motive to.”

“They talk about you, too,” she said, realizing that this perhaps was not the best line of conversation. But she blamed her head injury. Also, the fact that when he was near it was difficult to breathe. And it made her feel dizzy.

“Do they?”

“They say you don’t... That you don’t hire women to work for you.”

It was a deadly game that she was playing. At least, it felt that way to her. But Matías never looked at her closely. He looked at her the way he did the rest of his staff. Dismissively, though, not unkindly. He was energetic, and always seemed to be looking around, his focus never bound to one place for too long.

She had a feeling that if he was to ever truly look at her he would see much more than she wanted him to.

“It’s true,” he said, inclining his head, his arrogant mouth curving upward.

“Wh-why is that? You don’t think women are good with horses?”

“Of course not,” he said, waving his hand. “The problem is, they always fall in love with me.”

The words hit Camilla in an uncomfortable space. Because she wasn’t neutral to him. Of course, she wasn’t in love. That was ludicrous. But she certainly wasn’t immune to him, and she could see how it was possible that women might position themselves to get a job at the rancho simply to gain access to him.

“Perhaps,” Matías said, “it is something you will understand when you’re older.”

Irritation prickled her face. “I understand it well enough now.”

Matías chuckled. “Of course.”

“That’s very closed-minded of you, actually,” she said.

Matías arched a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “There are some men who might fall in love with you, as well.”

He laughed at that. “I suppose that is a possibility, given that I am replete with charm. However, I have never gone up to my bedroom to find one of my male employees naked in residence.”

Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh.”

“Indeed.”

She was starting to feel dizzy, and she let her head fall back to the arm of the settee, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The room was beginning to swirl around her. A confection of gold, blue and white.

“Cam,” Matías said. “Stay with me.”

She jerked upward. “Stay with you?”

She was feeling confused again. The differences between Cam and Camilla beginning to seem fuzzy. The reason for him asking her to stay becoming ambiguous in her mind.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said.

She blinked. Of course. Of course that was what he was asking her to do. He wasn’t asking her to stay with him. As in...to stay in the house. As in, to be Camilla with him.

He didn’t know who she was. And frankly, she didn’t know who he was.

It had been much easier when he was nothing more than the faceless villain who had purchased her father’s horses. Who had taken advantage of the state of the rancho, and of her father’s debts.

He did not seem like a villain now. He was kind. And he cared about the horses. Also, surprisingly, he seemed to care whether or not she died. Though he had made it pretty clear that it was an investigation he wanted to avoid. But perhaps, he also cared whether or not she was dead.

It was strangely warming.

But then, that perhaps could also be the head injury.

Suddenly, the doors opened and the doctor and Juan came into the room. She was caught up in a flurry of being checked over, examined. But thank God, it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to go to a hospital. The doctor looked into her eyes and deemed them clear.

And then he ushered Juan and Matías from the room. The older man looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

“Your name?”

“Cam,” she responded.

“Age?”

She looked away. “Fourteen.”

“Have you any parents?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you going to tell me the truth?” The older man looked at her with eyes that were far too piercing, far too knowing.

She shook her head, her throat growing dry. “That is as much of the truth as I can tell you.”

“I must tell you,” the doctor said. “I care a great deal for Matías. I treated him when he was a boy. When that father of his would injure him, give him a black eye, I was the one the staff would call to care for him, and I care for him still. I will not have him taken advantage of.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of him,” she said.

“I believe you. I’m not sure why. Only that I spend a great deal of my time taking care of people. Looking at people. That is the only reason your ruse has worked so far. People like Matías... They train themselves to never look at anyone too closely. But that is what I do. Examine people.”

“My head is all right?” she asked.

“Yes. Though I recommend you do not sleep outside. And that you don’t work out in the sun for a few days. I will speak to Matías about this.”

When the old doctor left the room her stomach twisted. What if he was lying? What if he was going to betray her? Tell her secret? Clearly, he had recognized that she was a woman and not a boy. He had no actual reason to trust her, no matter what he said. Except for some reason she also had a feeling that he would not lie when the truth would serve just as easily.

Because he’d had no reason to placate her. None at all. He could have raised the alarm immediately when he had realized that she was a woman, but instead he had sent Matías and Juan from the room.

Still, she picked at her fingernails, twisted her fingers, nerves overtaking her as she waited.

Matías came back in, his expression dark, stormy. “The doctor has recommended that I set up a room for you inside the house, at least for the next couple of nights. To make you more comfortable, and to ensure that you aren’t by yourself.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling guilty now. Because this was becoming more than simply taking care of the horses. This was becoming something more.

He was extending hospitality to her now, and she was lying to him.

But it wasn’t to hurt him. It wasn’t to take advantage of him. It was for Fuego.

Yes, for Fuego, but also for her own damaged heart. Because she had lost so much, and she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of not having the horses, too.

She discovered fairly quickly that, in fact, a great many members of Matías’s household staff were women.

She looked quizzically at the elderly woman who led her to the bedroom. “He told me he didn’t hire women,” she commented.

“He does not hire young women,” she replied. “Particularly not to work with the horses. He is rarely home, but he is often out at the stables when he’s here. So, those are the people he interacts with most often.” She shook her head. “He had quite a few girls make appalling fools of themselves for him some years ago.”

Camilla took some sense of relief in that assurance as she put on the sweats that had been brought to her from her quarters. At least she hadn’t engaged in this ruse because of a false rumor.

That would have been truly untenable.

But she wasn’t going to concern herself with that. Not now. She settled herself into the bed—the softest thing she had felt against her skin in months—and tried to stay awake, simply because she felt comfortable, truly comfortable, in the way she had grown up for the first time in so long she wanted to bask in it.

But she couldn’t stay awake. And eventually, she gave in and let sleep pull her under.