Читать книгу Valdez's Bartered Bride - Rachael Thomas - Страница 11

CHAPTER ONE

Late November

LYDIA MENTALLY BRACED HERSELF for battle, because this was one fight she was not prepared to lose. Over the twenty-six years of her life, she’d perfected the art of hiding her emotions and now she intended to use it fully. Raul Pérez Valdez wouldn’t know what had hit him. Ten years ago he’d made her feel totally insignificant, like nothing more than a spoilt little rich girl, and she hated him for that. Ever since she’d gone to live with her grandmother as a child, she’d worked hard to shake off that label.

Any moment he would arrive and walk through the diners of one of London’s top restaurants to the intimate candlelit table he’d arranged, referring to it as neutral territory in his blunt email. The mood she was now in, he was going to need every bit of help he could get from the chosen venue, which was anything but neutral if his reputation of romancing women was true. It was very much a setting he would be at home in, whereas she was distinctly uncomfortable in such surroundings, having avoided anything remotely romantic after witnessing so many relationships turn sour, including her own supposed happy ever after.

Irritation filled her as the minutes ticked by. He was late. The time he’d appointed had already passed. Was the man intending to make her suffer even more? Make her so nervous she could easily jump at her own shadow? Or had he decided against the ludicrous deal his father had concocted with hers? Did this mean she was free to go back to her life and not honour the conditions of that deal she’d unwittingly been dragged into? Her father had reached an all-time low with that deal, leaving her to pay the price.

Except she’d had enough. She didn’t owe her father anything, not after all the years of ignoring her, unless it suited his latest negotiations, of course. Like the time she’d been paraded as a sixteen-year-old in front of the man she was about to meet, as if she was some sort of bait. That plan had failed—or so she’d thought.

With a huff of irritation, Lydia picked up her purse from the small round table and stood up to leave. She wasn’t wasting any more time waiting for Raul Valdez. If he wanted her father’s debt settled, he could chase around London after her.

‘Going somewhere?’ The sultry accent snared her senses and she turned and looked up into the face of a man so handsome he couldn’t possibly be the perpetrator of such dire circumstances. He’d changed, but from the intent look in his inky black eyes she knew without a doubt this was Raul Pérez Valdez, CEO of the Spanish investment bank her father had defaulted to in the most spectacular way.

Every sculpted angle of his face, from the high cheekbones to the Romanesque nose and the deep-set eyes, sent her body’s senses spinning into overdrive. Memories of being an impressionable girl on the brink of womanhood collided with that reaction and she was unable to quell the erratic racing of her pulse, or the shiver of something she quickly dismissed as nothing more than attraction.

‘We had a meeting ten minutes ago.’ Her sharp words did nothing to this specimen of cool reserve. The heavy brows lifted slightly in disbelief—or was it amusement? She couldn’t tell. The intensity in his eyes increased, but she was determined he wouldn’t use his well-known charm on her. She glared at him, hoping the icy coldness she was renowned for showed in all its glory. She wasn’t an impressionable sixteen-year-old any more.

‘For my lateness, I apologise.’ He held the back of the chair she’d just vacated, the expression on his face showing he expected her to sit back down.

Lydia tried to remain focused as she looked up at him, hating the way excitement sparked inside her as his dark eyes travelled down her body, making her display of cold demeanour extremely difficult. She stood boldly as his gaze seemed to rip the black fitted skirt and businesslike white blouse from her. Each second that ticked by increased her vulnerability, raising it higher than it had ever been, and the urge to fight back kicked in. If he was going to blatantly inspect her, she’d return the compliment.

With huge effort she dragged her gaze from the black depths of his eyes, taking in the clean-shaven face, then to the strong neck encased in a pristine white shirt collar, intensifying the olive tones of his skin. His hair was thick and as dark as coal and his broad shoulders gave her the impression they were strong enough to carry any problems. His arms flexed tantalisingly beneath the fine cloth of his suit as he stood and leant slightly on the back of the chair, his cold stare barely masking his irritation.

How would it feel to be held within the strength of those arms? Her pulse leapt at the thought and she fought hard again to quell the instant attraction that had stirred the woman in her she’d long since hidden away. This was not the time to indulge in silly romantic notions and most definitely not with this man, one who’d made his thoughts of her plain many years ago.

‘If this meeting was as important as you led me to believe, you would not have been late, Mr Valdez.’ Her anger at the way her body had reacted as she’d taken in every detail of this man, and the thoughts that had raced through her mind at the idea of being held in those strong arms, made her voice crisp and sharp.

That impressive control didn’t waver.

‘You and I are in a position which I am certain neither of us want, Miss Carter-Wilson, and, as I have the solution, I suggest you sit down.’ She saw his jaw flex as he clenched his teeth, the only sign she was challenging his outward display of patience.

‘The position we are in? You mean the bizarre conditions your father attached to the contract he forced my father to sign?’ That sensation of helplessness she’d been fighting for several weeks surfaced again and her voice rose rapidly with each word.

‘Exactly that.’ The calmness of his voice, together with the silky rich accent, jarred her senses, increasing her wildly overactive anxieties.

‘There is no way it can be enforced.’ She knew she was beginning to babble, the panic of everything almost too much, and she bit back further words. He had to think she was calm and in control, had to think he’d met his match. His equal.

‘If you sit down we can discuss this rationally.’ He gestured to the chair, his brow rising in question—or was it amusement?

Unable to keep a sigh of discontent from escaping, she sat down. The need to be in charge, to control the situation she was virtually drowning in, forced her to speak again before he’d sat opposite her at the small and inappropriately intimate table, complete with a red rose and candle.

‘I think you need to explain just what kind of business contract your father tricked mine into signing. It is inconceivable that in the twenty-first century two people can be forced to marry because of such devious tactics.’ She took a deep shuddering breath, hardly able to comprehend that this nightmare was actually happening.

‘That is why I’m here—’

Lydia cut across him, angry at the stupidity of her father for signing a contract with such dire conditions and, even more so, at this cool specimen of male splendour for being so calm and pragmatic about it. ‘Mr Valdez, I don’t care what is in the contract. I’m not going to marry you. Not ever.’

His dark brows rose and she thought she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. Even worse, his reaction sent a skitter of something she’d never experienced hurtling through her and her pulse leapt just from having that sexy hint of a smile, which had sparked briefly in his eyes, directed at her.

‘At least we agree on that.’ He sat back in his chair, his dark eyes locking with hers, full of challenge. ‘You may be assured I have absolutely no desire to make a spoilt little rich girl my wife.’

So his opinion of her hadn’t changed. ‘I am no such thing.’

She fought hard to resist the urge to jump up and walk away; only the fact that her solicitor had told her the terms of the contract her father had signed with Banco de Torrez, however bizarre, would stand up in court, kept her from doing just that—for now.

‘What about all the properties? Many of them are worth millions. Your father hid them by putting them in your name as he defaulted month after month on the agreement he’d signed with my father.’ He folded his arms across his chest, serving only to emphasise the strength in them as the dark grey suit pulled over his biceps. Since when did she ever notice such things about a man?

‘That is something I had no knowledge of, but, if they are in my name and worth that much, I will sell them to clear the debt.’ The discovery several weeks ago of what her father had done had been just another bit of her life falling to pieces. Angry at the man who was supposed to protect her, she’d maintained a stony silence with him, to show him her disappointment and anger that once again he’d risked everything, including this time her future, her happiness.

Raul looked at her and she knew he didn’t believe her. The cold lack of interest was too obvious. Was he really as ruthless in business as those reports she’d read on the Internet implied? She had hoped to strike some sort of deal with him. After all, a man who rarely dated the same woman twice was as unlikely to want marriage as she was.

‘I would be more than happy to accept such an offer—’

‘Good.’ She stood up, content that this absurd conversation was over. ‘Then you can liaise with my solicitor over the matter.’

‘Do you always talk over people?’ His question stopped her as she was about to leave for the second time and she looked down at him, stunned into silence, and the elusive sensation of being in control slipped further away with each erratic heartbeat. From the moment he’d arrived and their eyes had met, she’d lost that control.

* * *

Raul had never known such self-assured insolence from a woman as beautiful and alluring as the prim and proper Lydia Carter-Wilson. She certainly didn’t want to hear what he had to say and wasn’t prepared to listen to his suggestion for dealing with the situation they were both now in. A solution he was certain would be acceptable. Yet it was blatantly clear all this fiery beauty cared about was herself. She hadn’t changed a bit since he’d met her ten years ago. Granted, she’d become a beautiful and sexy woman, but she wasn’t any different. She was still a spoilt little rich girl. Daddy’s princess—and a liar.

He pushed down the irrational anger that engulfed him every time he thought of what his father had done. That last meddling dig at the son he’d never wanted threatened to unleash all the bitterness and contempt he’d kept hidden since his father had died five months ago. The devious old man had even known he was terminally ill and changed his will to get at him one last time.

‘No, I don’t, but then I’ve never had the dubious pleasure of lunch with a man like you.’ The hot retort fired at him and he couldn’t help but smile. It was definitely an inconvenience having to extricate himself from such an agreement with this woman, but he’d certainly not expected to find it so entertaining. She was a bundle of hot sparks and defiance. Just the mutinous tilt of her chin and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she glared at him fired something deeper than merely lust. Something he had no wish to get tangled in—ever.

She tempted him, daring him with that sexy body that begged to be made love to, and almost all rational thought slipped from his mind. But he was not his father. He would not be drawn by the lure of sex. His playboy reputation was deserved, but only as part of his armour, his defence in order to remain emotionally intact and very single.

‘And what would a man like me be?’ He taunted her, enjoying the fire of annoyance that flared in those green eyes, reminding him of the fresh leaves of spring on the trees in Retiro Park, in his city of birth, Madrid.

‘A man who thinks he only needs to smile at a woman to have her falling at his feet—or into his bed.’ The slight nod of her head, the little so there gesture, as she finished speaking made laughing at her impossible to resist.

‘My bed?’

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me.’ Indignation hurtled out with those words, all but lashing at him, and he reluctantly pushed away the image of this woman in his bed.

‘Maybe a little laughter is how we need to deal with this situation. Now, please sit down. The poor waitress has no idea if we are staying or going.’ He tried to instil some order into their meeting, which didn’t feel anything like a business lunch.

He watched as she turned to look at the waitress who was approaching their table for the second time. He liked the way Lydia’s brunette hair moved, slipping over her shoulder, the loose curls bouncing with the movement, and the way she tucked it back behind her ears. There was an air of vulnerability about her he didn’t buy into at all. There was no way this fiery creature was vulnerable. Spoilt and used to getting her way, yes, but vulnerable, no.

‘I’m not entirely sure being forced into a marriage is a laughing matter.’ She fixed those gorgeous eyes on his face, her full lips pouting slightly, making him briefly wish this were a date and that by the end of the evening he would be able to kiss them. Savagely he pushed those thoughts aside. This was not a time to become distracted.

‘Then on that we agree.’ He beckoned the waitress forward with a subtle move of his hand and watched as Lydia took the menu, appearing to use it as a shield. Against him or the situation? He watched her long lashes lowering as she read and took the opportunity to study her further. Her skin was pale, making it obvious she hadn’t spent the summer in one of her Mediterranean properties. The menu shook very slightly in her hands and he wondered if it was possible for such an audacious woman to be nervous. Much more likely to be anger, he decided, anger that was directed firmly at him. Anger was good, because then at least they could sort out this mess their fathers had selfishly created for them.

As she gave her order her voice became soft and gentle, not at all like the hard and sharp tones he’d been treated to so far. How would she sound if they were here as lovers? Would that softness be beguiling him to take her home and to his bed?

Alarmed by the train of his thoughts yet again, he dragged his mind back to the truth of the situation and placed his order. Employing all the charm he’d perfected as his armour, he smiled at the waitress.

‘So, how exactly do you propose to deal with this situation?’ The softness had gone and the question fired at him with force. Had she meant to use that word? Propose was the last thing he intended to do. He focused his attention back to the woman opposite him, the woman his father had decided would make him a suitable wife simply because of the substantial properties that she owned and her misfortune to have such a reckless and weak father.

He kept his gaze fixed on the pale beauty of her face, watching for any signs of compliance. ‘You have considerable property assets and these were the security used by your father. The terms are more than clear, as I have already informed your lawyer.’

‘I have said that I am more than happy to sell them in order to raise the funds required.’ She cut across him again, stemming the flow of his well-prepared proposition.

‘If that were possible, it would be the most sensible option. Unfortunately, my father has used this security as part of his conditions of his will.’ The outrageous terms his father had insisted on still infused him with rage as fiercely as the day he’d discovered what his father had done. A final jab at his son, even after his death, to get just what he wanted.

‘His will?’ The sharp intake of breath left him in no doubt this was not a piece of information she was aware of. ‘I’m sorry about your loss. I had no idea.’

‘Please don’t waste your sympathy on me.’ He pushed away memories of his childhood, of never being able to be what his father wanted, never knowing how to please him and having no idea why. At least that mystery had been solved. ‘My father and I were not close.’

That was an understatement. He’d lost all respect for his father over ten years ago when he’d taken his womanising to a new level, having affairs with young models and actresses who craved the limelight and high life his name and wealth could give them. The fact that everyone expected him to be just as much of a playboy had irritated him at first, until he’d learnt to use that as defence to keep women at an emotional distance.

The beautiful brunette who’d been dragged into the latest battle his father had set regarded him sceptically, the spell only broken by the arrival of their wine. He smiled at the waitress as he sampled the wine, aware of Lydia’s scrutiny with every breath he took. ‘Very good, thank you.’

‘Yes, I can see any sympathy would be a waste of time.’ Her barbed words flew at him and inwardly he baulked at her directness, but refused to let it show. He was more than used to keeping his emotions away from the scrutiny of others, used to putting on a show of uncaring detachment, and right now that suited him perfectly.

‘So, shall we discuss our options?’ Before she could once again talk over him or correct him, he launched directly into all that needed to be said. ‘I have no wish to marry anyone, least of all you, but the terms of my father’s will are very clear. Upon my father’s death, our marriage is the only way your father’s debt can be repaid—unless you have such a large sum of money saved?’

‘Why can’t I just sell the properties?’ Her eyes widened with disbelief and her hand came to her face, the tip of one finger dragging across her bottom lip in a very distracting way. He watched as the pink-painted nail dug into the plumpness of her lip, wishing he could sample that plumpness against his lips.

Again he urged his mind back to the situation. Perhaps he was more like his father than he’d ever imagined. The thought sickened him. ‘Although the properties are in your name, the terms of the transfer your father carried out means you cannot sell them, that they only remain yours until your marriage, at which point they will become your husband’s property.’

‘What?’ She pressed her fingertips against her mouth, as if to stem the shocked flow of words, and her neat brows furrowed into a frown. He wasn’t falling for that.

‘Hard to believe, but I’m afraid it’s true. It’s also a fact my father sought to exploit when he made his will, just months before he died. I am not happy to have inherited your father’s debt and with it you as my bride.’ He recalled his lawyer’s face, full of apology, and the words that had proved beyond doubt how much his father must have disliked him.

‘I tried to persuade him against it, but he was adamant.’

‘What century are we in?’ Her shock had turned to anger and she flung her hands out over the table, palms upwards in exasperation. ‘Just what did they think they were doing?’

‘It appears we have both been little more than pawns in their game and it’s time now to take control, to thwart whatever it was they each intended.’

‘At least now we are on the same page. I have no intention of marrying someone who wants me for what I have. I almost travelled that road and I’m not going there again.’ Her burst of irritation held a hint of passion, intriguing him in a way he was far from comfortable about.

‘Are you holding out for love, Lydia?’ It was the first time he’d used her name and it shocked him how he liked to say it as he looked into her beautiful face. If circumstances were different, he’d be tempted to reach out and push her hair back from her face, revealing her beauty. But he couldn’t go there. He didn’t seek the confines of marriage, so for now it was better to hide behind the mask of a hardened businessman.

* * *

Lydia’s pulse leapt as he said that word and looked into her eyes. The unyielding blackness of his sent skitters of awareness all over her. Every part of her body was tuned into his, every move he made only intensified it, but the mention of love halted all that, as if she’d just careered into a brick wall.

‘I have no intention of wasting my time holding out for love.’ She bristled at the memory of the man she’d thought she’d loved, the man she’d believed had loved her until she’d discovered he’d also been in the habit of loving as many other women as he could. By that point she and Daniel were engaged. This had rankled her father and, just to show him she’d make her own decisions in life, she’d accepted Daniel’s apology. Something she deeply regretted. It would have been almost preferable to have her father look at her with that I told you so expression than the humiliation after Daniel had left her because she no longer had anything to offer him, something her father had made very clear to him, although at that point she’d not understood exactly what he’d meant.

Now she did. It was the contract her father had signed with Raul Valdez’s father, using her as his leverage, his security.

‘So cynical, Lydia. Are you not in search of your Mr Right, the man to live happily ever after with?’ His accented voice sent a shiver of awareness over her and she knew a flush of colour had spread over her face.

Who was he to mock such dreams? He was a complete playboy.

‘Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.’ She couldn’t help the light and flirty tone of her voice and to hide her embarrassment she took a sip of her wine. ‘But that is not why we are here, to discuss such nonsense as love, Mr Valdez, is it?’

‘No, we are not.’ He snapped the words out, his accent sharp, and she sensed the impatience in him. Or was it irritation? ‘We are here because your father defaulted on his loan.’

Before he could say any more Lydia cut across him once more, not missing the frown of annoyance, which gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. ‘And because your father saw fit to use that default in the most devious and unethical way.’

‘I agree,’ he said and leant forward in the seat, his dark eyes penetrating hers, preventing her from doing anything other than looking into them, but they were cold and she shivered slightly. ‘That is why we are here. To extricate ourselves from a marriage I certainly don’t want and it would seem you share that view.’

‘I still don’t see why I can’t just sign some of the properties over to you, or sell them and clear the debt.’ She wished now she’d had a proper meeting with her solicitor instead of the rushed phone call. She hadn’t understood all he’d told her and in all honesty she couldn’t believe what her father had done.

‘You do not own them, Lydia. They are only yours until you marry, at which time they will pass into the legal possession of your husband.’

She recalled an argument with her father almost a year ago, one of those rare meetings of father and daughter. He’d been smugly pleased with his latest plot to manipulate her into marriage for the good of his company. He’d told her he had found her a husband and that this time she would have no choice but to do as she was told. She’d refused, telling him she and Daniel were engaged, but that had been no deterrent to the lows her father had stooped to in order to save himself from financial ruin. She’d had no idea his vast property portfolio had been put into her name until her marriage.

‘By that you mean you.’ She put down her wine glass and glared at him, everything clear at last. ‘Your father added the marriage clause in his will to trick my father.’

‘I consider it more of a shrewd tactic to safeguard the considerable amount of money he had loaned to your father’s business. He must have been sure your father wouldn’t obtain such levels of funding through the usual channels and added the extra condition in his will, should the debt remain unsettled in the event of his death.’

‘I hardly think forcing either of us into marriage is shrewd or businesslike. It’s medieval.’ She stumbled over the words as she realised how futile they were and when a smile tugged at the corners of his lips she wished she were bold enough to get up and walk away.

‘After our marriage, all the properties will become mine and therefore the debt will be repaid and the board of directors satisfied. The only issue is that we must remain married for two years—living together.’

‘Are you actually suggesting we get married, just to clear the debt? I thought you were against any such idea as much as I am.’ Lydia couldn’t take it in. Married. To this man. For two years.

‘That depends on how much you want to help your father.’

Lydia didn’t have to think very hard on that one. She didn’t want to help her father, but she did want to protect his mother, her grandmother. The woman who’d cared for her, loved her as a daughter. She was the only reason she was still here having this discussion.

‘Of course I want to help my father, but I will not marry anyone to do that.’ She wasn’t about to enlighten Raul Valdez to the fact that her father had tried several times to push her into a marriage that would financially benefit him. The fact that this man’s father could possibly succeed where hers had failed was not a pleasant prospect.

‘In that case you will be interested to hear of my solution.’ Her attention was caught not only by his words, but by the tone of his voice.

‘Which is?’

‘I suggest we make the marriage and clear the debts. We can lead separate lives whilst living in the same place. After two years, I will not contest a divorce.’ He sat back in his chair, the expression on his handsome face close to being smug.

‘Is that the best you can do?’ Irritation surged through her. Had he met her here to put forward a suggestion that was at the moment the only obvious conclusion? She was so angry with her father. He could have warned her of this, months ago. He must have known he couldn’t make the repayments. Now she understood why he’d made it so easy for her to keep up her annoyed silence. He’d gone to ground, hiding like a coward. ‘Why have you left it five months to contact me? You must have been made aware of the will conditions months ago.’

‘I had other, more pressing issues to deal with.’

‘Such as?’

He looked at her as if assessing her ability to be trusted and, just as when he’d first swept his gaze over her, the scrutiny did strange things to her. ‘I have been trying to contact a family member whose existence I only discovered upon the reading of the will. If found, that person would offer a very different option for both of us and there is a large financial reward which can be used to clear your debts, but I have as yet been unable to find that person.’

‘So, in the meantime, you thought you’d come and force me into a two-year marriage.’ Irritation rushed through her. They weren’t getting anywhere.

‘I am still intending to search for that person, but your father has not made any further payments and has managed to evade all attempts at a meeting. I now have no choice. The board is calling for settlement of the debt. They will not wait any longer. Our engagement must be announced.’

He sat back and sipped the last of his wine, the calm and unruffled exterior unsettling her more than she cared to admit. ‘There are agencies for such things.’ The confusion on his face as she derailed the topic was priceless and for a brief moment she wanted to laugh. ‘Finding missing family members, that is.’

‘If you wish to make it public, then yes, there are.’ He clenched his jaw as he finished speaking.

‘You want to find someone yet keep it secret?’ That made no sense whatsoever and at the same time intrigued her. Who did this power-hungry man wish to contact and why?

‘It is not something I want the press to get hold of.’ The annoyed growl of his voice gave her immense satisfaction but as she took a sip of wine an idea filtered through her mind. Genealogy was something she was very interested in and she’d spent long happy hours helping friends trace their family roots back many generations. Was it possible she could provide what this man wanted? Maybe there was a deal to be made here?

‘That sensitive, is it?’ She toyed with him, like a cat who had stumbled upon a mouse, enjoying the sensation, even if only briefly, of power.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact it is, but it bears no relevance to our discussion.’ The curt tone of his voice blended with his accent and she wondered what he would sound like if he were whispering words of love. Except a man like him didn’t indulge in love—only lust.

‘Supposing I was able to find this family member—discreetly, of course.’

‘You?’ The surprise in his deeply accented voice sent a smile of satisfaction spreading across her lips. He obviously thought she was nothing more than an empty-headed socialite, who did nothing but party and shop.

‘Yes, me. It could clear the debt and relieve us of the need to get married.’ It was also far more than that for her. She wanted to hold on to all she’d worked for in life and if this man could sweep in and demand the properties her father had put in her name, would he then want all she had? Her business?

‘Go on.’

‘I happen to have a passion for genealogy.’

‘A passion?’ His brows rose and a shiver of awareness spread all over her as he said the word, giving it a totally different connotation from the context she’d meant. ‘Now you have aroused my interest. But how can it help with this matter?’

Much to her disgust heat rushed to her cheeks and yet again she lifted her chin and fixed him with a piercing glare. She couldn’t let it show just how much he was affecting her, how he was making her stomach flip and her heart pound like a lovesick teenager. Not when she’d sworn she’d never indulge in such nonsense. Hadn’t her time with Daniel been enough to warn her off?

‘I’ll make a deal with you, Mr Valdez. If I find this person, all the debts will be cleared without the need for marriage.’

‘That’s a massive charge for such a service when I could hire an agency, as you say.’

‘But would you have the confidentiality you require?’ She waited, hardly able to breathe, the anticipation immense. Had she actually managed to dig her way out of the mess her father had landed her in?

‘It’s still a high price, Miss Carter-Wilson. Are you sure you can deliver?’ He leant forward, his forearms on the table, his long tanned fingers holding the stem of the wine glass.

‘Yes.’ She crossed her fingers beneath the table and smiled boldly at him.

‘How long?’

‘That depends on many things. Months at least.’

‘You don’t have months.’ The brittleness of his tone made her blink rapidly.

‘Weeks, then.’

‘Four at the most.’ He assessed her again and she wondered if he sensed her panic.

‘In that case you have yourself a deal—but be warned, if this is leaked before I am ready, or you are not successful, then I will want full and immediate payment of the debt, which would mean you as my wife.’

‘That threat won’t be necessary, Mr Valdez.’ She kept her voice firm as she put out her hand to shake on the deal. ‘I suggest we meet again as soon as possible, then you can give me any information you already have before you return to Spain.’

‘If you are investigating my family, I will be keeping a close watch on what you are doing. Which means, Miss Carter-Wilson, you will return to Madrid with me.’