Читать книгу The Holiday Escapes Collection - Сандра Мартон - Страница 67

CHAPTER SIX

‘SORRY!’

Gordon apologised profusely for scaring her, after Estelle had walked into the guest room much later that night to find a monster!

He whipped the mask off. ‘It’s for my breathing. I have sleep apnoea.’

Estelle had changed in a tiny bathroom along the draughty hall and was now wearing some very old, very tatty pale pink pyjamas that she only put on when she was sick or reading for an entire weekend. It was all she’d had at short notice, but Estelle was quite sure Gordon wasn’t expecting cleavage and sexy nightdresses.

She offered to take the sofa bed—he was paying her, after all—but true to his word he insisted that she have the bed.

‘Thank you so much for tonight, Estelle.’

‘It’s been fine,’ Estelle said as she rubbed cold cream into her face and took her make-up off. ‘It must be so hard on you, though,’ she mused, trying to get off the last of her mascara. ‘Having to hide your real life.’

‘It certainly hasn’t been easy, but six months from now I’ll be able to be myself.’

‘Can’t you now?’

‘If it was just about me then I probably would have by now,’ Gordon explained. ‘Frank is so private, though—it would be awful for him to have our relationship discussed on the news, which it would be. Still, six months from now we’ll be sunning it in Spain.’

‘Is that where you’re going to live?’

‘And marry,’ Gordon said. ‘Gay marriage is legal there.’

Estelle was really tired now; she slipped into bed and they chatted a little while more.

‘You know that Virginia has nearly finished her studies…?’

‘I know.’ Estelle sighed—not only because she would miss her housemate, but also because she would need to find someone else to share if she continued with her course. But then she realised what Gordon was referring to.

‘She’s starting work next month. I don’t want to offend you by suggesting anything, but if you did want to accompany me to things for a few months…’

He didn’t push, and for that Estelle was grateful.

‘Have a think about it,’ Gordon said, and wished her goodnight.

Estelle was soon drifting off, thinking not about Gordon’s offer but about Raúl and his pursuit.

And it had been a pursuit.

From the moment their eyes had locked he had barely left her thoughts or her side, whether standing behind her at the wedding or sitting beside her at dinner. She still could not comprehend what had taken place on the dance floor; she had been searching for the bells and whistles and sirens of an orgasm, but how delicious and gentle that had been—how much more was there to know?

She didn’t dare think too much about it now. Exhausted from a long and tiring day, Estelle was just about to drift off to sleep when Gordon turned on his ventilation machine.

Ginny hadn’t told her about this part.

She lay there, head under pillow, at two a.m., still listening to the CPAP machine whirring and hissing. In the end she gave in.

She padded through the castle, her bare feet making not a sound on the stone floor. She headed to the small bathroom and took a drink from the tap, willing the night to be over.

Then she looked at her surroundings and regretted willing it over.

She stepped out onto a huge stone balcony, stared out to the loch. It was incredibly light for this time of the morning. She breathed in the warm summer night air and now her thoughts did turn to Gordon and his offer.

Estelle had already been coming to a reluctant decision to defer her studies and work full-time. It was all so big and scary—a future that was unknown.

She turned as the door opened, her eyes widening as Raúl stepped out.

He was wearing only his kilt.

Estelle would have preferred him with clothes on. Not because there was anything to disappoint—far from it—but the sight of olive skin, the light fan of hair on his chest and the way the kilt hung gave her eyes just one place to linger. There was nothing safe about meeting his gaze.

It was only then that she realised he had not followed her out here—that instead he was speaking on the phone.

He must have come out to get better reception. She gave him a brief smile and went to brush past, to get away from him without incident, but his hand caught her wrist and she stood there as he spoke into the phone.

‘You don’t need to know what room I am in…’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Araminta, I suggest that you go to bed.’ He let out an irritated hiss. ‘Alone!’

He ended the call and only then dropped Estelle’s wrist. She stood as he examined her face.

‘You know, without all the make-up you slather on…’ His eyes searched her unmade-up skin. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail and she was dressed in a way he would not expect Gordon to find pleasing.

Raúl did.

She looked young—so much younger without all the make-up—and her baggy pyjamas left it all to Raúl’s imagination. Which he was using now.

And then came his verdict.

‘You look stunning,’ Raúl said. ‘I’m surprised Gordon has let you out of his sight.’

‘I just needed some air.’

‘I am hiding,’ Raúl admitted.

‘From Araminta?’

‘Someone must have given her my phone number. I am going to have to change it.’

‘She’ll give in soon.’ Estelle smiled, feeling a little sorry for the other woman. If Araminta had had a fling with him a few years ago and had known he would be here tonight—well, Estelle could see why her hopes might have been raised.

His phone rang again and he rolled his eyes and chose not to answer. ‘So, what are you doing out here at this time of morning?’

‘Just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Things.’ She gave a wry smile, didn’t add that far too many of her thoughts had been about him.

‘And me,’ Raúl admitted. ‘It has been an interesting day.’

He looked out to the still, silent loch and felt a world away from where he had woken this morning. He didn’t even know how he was feeling. He looked over to Estelle, who was gazing out into the night too, a woman who was comfortable with silence.

It was Raúl who was not—Raúl who made sure his days and nights were always filled to capacity so that exhaustion could claim him each night.

Here, for the first time in the longest time, he found himself alone with his thoughts—and that was not pleasant. But he refused to pick up to Araminta, knowing the chaos that might create.

It was Raúl who broke the silence. He wanted to hear her voice.

‘When do you go back?’

‘Late morning.’ Estelle stared out ahead. ‘You?’

‘I will leave early.’

He walked to lean over the balcony, gazed into the night, and Estelle saw the huge scar that ran from his shoulder to his waist. He glanced around and saw the slight shock on her face. Usually he refused to offer an explanation for the scar—he did not need sympathy. Tonight he chose to explain it.

‘It’s from the car accident…’

‘That killed your mother?’

He gave a curt nod and turned back to look into the night, breathing in the cool air. He was glad that she was here. For no other reason, Raúl realised, than he was glad. It was two a.m. in the second longest night of his life, and for the first one he had been alone.

‘Can I ask again?’ He had to know. ‘What are you doing with Gordon?’

‘He’s nice.’

‘So are many people. It doesn’t mean we go around…’ He did not complete his sentence yet he’d made his rather crude point. ‘Are you here tonight for your brother?’

Estelle could not answer. She had agreed to be here for Gordon, yet she knew they both knew the truth.

‘Do you have siblings?’ Estelle asked.

There was a long stretch of silence. His father had asked that he not reveal anything just yet, but it would all be out in the open soon. Estelle came and stood beside him as she awaited his answer. Perhaps she would go straight to the press in the morning. Raúl actually did not care right now. He could not think about tomorrow. It was taking all his control to get through the night.

‘Had you asked me that yesterday the answer would have been no.’ He turned his head, saw her frown at his answer and was grateful that she did not push for more detail. Instead she stayed silent as Raúl admitted a little of the truth. ‘This morning my father told me that I have a brother—Luka.’ It felt strange to say his name. ‘Luka Sanchez Garcia.’

From their little lesson earlier, Estelle knew they did not share the same mother. ‘Have you met him?’

‘Unwittingly.’

‘How old is he?’

She asked the same question that he had asked his father, though the relevance of the answer she could not know.

‘Twenty-five,’ Raúl said. ‘I walked into my father’s office this morning, expecting my usual lecture—he insists it is time for me to settle down.’ He gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘I had no idea what was coming. My father is dying and he wants his affairs put in order. My affairs too. And so he told me he has another son…’

‘It must have been the most terrible shock.’

‘Skeletons in the closet are not unique,’ Raúl said. ‘But this was not some long-ago affair that has suddenly come to light. My father has kept another life. He sees his mistress in the north of Spain. I thought he went there so regularly for work. We have a hotel in San Sebastian. It is his main interest. Now I know why.’

Estelle tried to imagine what it was like, finding out something like this, and Raúl stood trying to comprehend that he had actually told another—how readily he had opened up to her. Then he reminded himself why. For his solution to come to fruition of course Estelle had to be told.

Some of it, at least.

He would never reveal all.

‘His PA—Angela—she has always been…’

He gave a tight shrug. Angela had not been so much like a mother, but she had been a constant—a woman he trusted. Raúl closed his eyes, remembered walking out of his father’s office and the words he had hurled to the one woman he had believed did not have an agenda.

‘We have always got on. It turns out the son she speaks of often is in fact my half-brother.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘A lot of my childhood was spent with my aunt or uncle. I assumed my father was working at the hotel in San Sebastian. It turns out he was with his mistress and his son.’ Black was the hiss that came from his mouth. ‘It’s all sorry and excuses now. I always prided myself on knowing what goes on, on being astute. It turns out I knew nothing.’

He had said enough. More than enough for one night.

‘So, in answer to your question—yes. I have a brother.’

He shrugged naked shoulders and her fingers balled into her palms in an effort not to rest her hand on them.

‘Unlike you, I care nothing for mine.’

‘You might if you knew him.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’

She felt a small shiver, put it down to the night air. But his voice was so black with loathing it could have been that. ‘I’m going to go in.’

‘Please don’t.’

Estelle had to get back—back to the safety of Gordon—yet she did not want to walk away from him.

She had to.

‘Goodnight, Raúl…’

‘Stay.’

She shook her head, grateful for the ringing of his phone—for the diversion it offered. But as she went to open the door she heard a woman’s frantic voice coming down the corridor.

‘Pick up Raúl. Where the hell are you?’

He had lightning reflexes. Quickly Raúl turned his phone off and pulled Estelle into the shadows.

‘I need a favour.’

Before she knew what was happening she was in his arms, his tongue prising her lips open, his hand at her pyjama top. Estelle struggled against him before realising what was happening. She could hear Araminta calling out to Raúl, and if she saw the balcony any moment now she would come out.

But Araminta didn’t. She stumbled past the balcony, the couple on it unseen.

He could stop now, Estelle thought. Except her pyjama top was completely open, her breasts splayed against his naked chest.

We should stop now, she thought as his tongue chased hers.

He made a low moan into her mouth; it was the sexiest thing she had ever heard or felt. He slid one hand over her bottom and his tongue was hot and moist.

Suddenly sending a message to Araminta was the last thing on Raúl’s mind.

Estelle wanted his kiss to end, and yet she yearned for it to go on—like a forbidden path she was running down, wanting to get to the end, to glimpse again the woman he made her. It was a kiss that should not be happening, but it was one she did not want to end.

‘Don’t go back to him…’ Raúl’s mouth barely left hers as he voiced his command.

He had intended to speak with her at a later point, perhaps get her phone number, but having tasted her, having kissed her, he could not stand the thought of her in Gordon’s bed. He would reveal his plan right now.

He peeled his mouth off hers, his breath coming hard on her lips. ‘Come now with me.’

It was then that she fully realised her predicament. Raúl assumed this was the norm for her, that she readily gave her body.

As he moved in to kiss her again she slapped him. It was the only way she knew how to end this.

‘You pay more, do you?’ She was disgusted with his thought processes.

‘I did not mean it like that.’ Raúl felt the sting on his cheek and knew that it was merited—knew how his suggestion must have come across. But business had been the last thing on his mind. He had simply not wanted her going back to another man. ‘I meant—’

‘I know exactly what you meant.’

‘Bastard!’

They both turned at the sight of a tear-streaked Araminta. ‘You said you were tired, that you were in bed.’

‘Can I suggest that you go back to your bed?’ Raúl snapped to Araminta, clearly not welcoming the intrusion.

Estelle saw again just how brutal this man could be when he chose.

‘How much clearer can I make it that I have absolutely no interest in you?’

He turned and came to help a mortified Estelle with her buttons, but her hand slapped him off.

‘Don’t touch me!’

She flew from the balcony and back to her room, stepped quietly in and slipped into bed, listened to the whirring of Gordon’s machine, trying to forget the feel of Raúl’s hands, his mouth.

Trying to deny that she lay there for the first time truly wanting.