At the time he had been astonished by her behaviour—but not for long. Because soon after that he was to discover that all women were liars and cheats. But it had been Emily who had hurt him the most, who had wielded the sharpest blade, which felt like it was digging deep into his heart. And didn’t they say that the first cut was the deepest?
‘So what are you planning to do?’ he said, slanting a compassionate look towards the horse who was still trying to summon up the strength to nuzzle Emily’s hand. ‘Put a bullet to his head?’
She recoiled, staring at him as if he had just ascended from the depths of hell.
‘Are you advocating I kill my horse?’ she accused shakily. ‘You, who always loved animals?’
‘Yes, I loved them and still do,’ he grated. ‘More than I ever loved any human, that’s for sure—and way too much to want to condemn them to a life of neglect. Is that what you want for Joya, Emily? For his eyes to grow so dull that he can barely see and he doesn’t even have the strength to put food in his mouth?’
‘Of course that’s not what I want,’ she declared, the quick shake of her head drawing his eyes reluctantly to the thick shimmer of her blonde hair. ‘But I don’t have...’
‘Don’t have what?’ he prompted silkily.
Emily stared at him, not wanting to divulge the truth—not to him of all people. But what good was pride in a situation like this? Shouldn’t she be thinking about Joya, rather than how humble her life must appear to this new and very different Alejandro, who breathed wealth and power from every pore of his spectacular body?
‘I don’t have the means to look after him,’ she admitted. ‘I live in a small apartment in the middle of London and I couldn’t possibly move him there—’
‘I doubt he would survive the journey anyway.’
She nodded, wishing he hadn’t made the curt intervention because she didn’t need reminding of how frail Joya was. ‘I also have a very modest lifestyle,’ she continued, a rush of blood heating her cheeks as he continued to look at her with a trace of scorn. ‘Which certainly wouldn’t allow me to fund Joya’s care here in Argentina.’
He appeared to be mulling over her words when Rosa appeared on the veranda carrying a couple of the wooden drinking cups known as gourds, and Emily felt a quick pang of nostalgia as she recognised the traditional Argentinian drink of yerba maté. Because it had been Alejandro who’d first introduced her to it—showing her how to suck it up out of the straw-like strainer, which prevented the leaves from clogging up your mouth. Who had told her laughingly that if she wasn’t careful, the caffeine would keep her awake all night—but that was okay by him. She remembered how cosmopolitan he’d made her feel and how the whisper of his fingertips over her skin had made her stomach turn to jelly.
‘Why don’t we go over to the veranda and have this discussion in the shade, while Tomas takes Joya back to the stables?’ Alejandro suggested smoothly.
To Emily’s surprise she found herself agreeing, even though instinct was telling her it might not be such a great idea. Maybe it was the shock of seeing him again which made her follow him up the old wooden steps. Or maybe it was just that old habits died hard, because she’d always been a sucker for his suggestions. Either way, she was glad to take a seat on the veranda, taking a thirsty pull of the bitter drink Rosa had left for them.
Once her thirst had been quenched, she became aware of the Argentinian’s cool gaze fixed on her and she fidgeted a little. He had undone a third button on his white shirt and was stretching his long legs in front of him, drawing her attention to the taut fabric of his trousers, which stretched across the muscular definition of his hard thighs. She could feel beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead as she found herself remembering those thighs hair-roughened and naked as they thrust against the smoothness of her own skin. Yet their physical relationship had been cut abruptly short, she reminded herself, wondering how something so brief could have had such an enduring impact. And then she remembered something else.
‘Tomas told me that your mother had died last year,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’
It was then that his face changed. She watched it darken with anger and she shrank back a little against the battered wicker chair.
‘You are hypocritical enough to express your condolences?’ he demanded. ‘When it was your spite which meant my mother lost her job?’
THE LOUD SWELL of the cicadas was the only sound which could be heard above the loud beat of her pounding heart as Emily stared at Alejandro across the faded veranda. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she breathed. ‘How could I have possibly been responsible for your mother losing her job?’
He sliced his hand through the air with a gesture of disdainful impatience. ‘Don’t give me that false wide-eyed look of innocence, Emily.’
‘It’s not false. It’s genuine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
His brow darkened, his green gaze narrowing. ‘After we were discovered together and you flew back to England as if the hounds of hell were at your heels, my mother was called into your father’s study and told to leave the property immediately, never to return.’ His face contorted with contempt. ‘Twenty-one years of devotion thrown back in her face.’
Emily’s lips fell open and she shook her head in vehement denial. ‘I swear I didn’t know that. I thought she’d left of her own accord.’
‘Oh, come on. Women of such subservience don’t just leave of their own accord,’ he mimicked cruelly. ‘Did you know your stepfather refused to provide any references for her, so she couldn’t get any more work? And although I was able to provide some means of support, she complained that her life felt empty without work.’
Alejandro felt his mouth harden with anger and frustration. He had wanted to help his mother in more practical ways than simply buying her a small house. Having given birth to him at just seventeen, she’d been young enough to retrain in something different. Young enough to start again. But she hadn’t wanted a new life. She had just smoked cigarette after cigarette while continuing to spin him the same old lies, which for a time while he’d been growing up had made him feel special and different. And wasn’t it crazy that he’d hung onto the myth he’d been spun for so long—so that when he had finally learned the truth, it had nearly broken him?
He stared at Emily. Maybe it was true what she said and she hadn’t been directly responsible for his mother’s sacking, but that didn’t change the anger he felt towards her, did it? Because he had loved her in a way he had never loved anyone else and he’d thought she loved him, too. But she hadn’t. She had been the only woman who had ever rejected him and she had done it in a cruel and dismissive manner which had emphasised his subservient status. He would never forget the way she had looked through him, as if he had been invisible. As if he were nothing. Was it that which had planted the bitter seed of anger, deep in the empty place he called his heart?
He watched as, with an unsteady hand, she put down her half-empty gourd and fixed him with those incredible sapphire eyes of hers.
‘You still haven’t explained what brought you here today, Alej.’
He leaned his head back against the chair and surveyed her from between slitted eyes. ‘Because I think I can help you. Or rather, I think we can help each other.’
She shook her head. ‘After the things you’ve just accused me of, I’m amazed you’re offering, but I’ll decline if it’s all the same to you.’ She gritted him a polite smile. ‘I don’t need your help.’