Spring Bride Read online

  “Yes?” she said. “What is it?”

  A muscle knotted in Antonio’s cheek “I own an island off the coast. It’s called San Sebastian. When I am in this part of the world, it is where I live. It is where I was headed this evening before you leaped out into the road.”

  “I’m sure that’s very interesting,” she said impatiently, “but what has it to do with me?”

  His smile was slow and dangerous enough to make her breath catch.

  “You will live on my island for a week, Kyra. At the end of that time, I will—”

  Kyra’s temper ignited like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. She rose from the table so swiftly that her chair fell back and clattered to the floor. The restaurant went silent; every eye turned to her again but she didn’t care.

  “I’d sooner live in the street!”

  Antonio laughed. “How about a cell?” he said, his voice silken. “Does that have equal appeal?”

  Kyra tossed her napkin on the table. Head high, she marched through the room and out the door.

  He took his time pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, waving off Carlos as he came hurrying forward.

  “It’s quite all right,” he said, and tossed a fat wad of bills on the table.

  He saw her as soon as he stepped outside, walking swiftly along the road. He got in the car and set out after her. When he drew alongside, he put the transmission in neutral and stepped out.

  Kyra swung around as soon as he touched her shoulder, her hands flailing in fury.

  “Get away from me!”

  Antonio laughed softly. He put his arms around her, drew her slowly to him despite the ferocity of her struggles.

  “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream!”

  “Scream, Kyra Perhaps the policía will come.” He bent his head until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “And then you can choose between their hospitality and mine.”

  “I’ll kill you for this, Antonio, so help me…I’ll—”

  His mouth came down on hers, hard and hot and hungry. She beat her fists against his chest, sank her teeth into his lip, but nothing could stop him He kept kissing her, his lips moving on hers, his tongue stroking across the seam of her mouth, until, with a little sob, she did what he wanted, what she wanted, and opened her mouth to him.

  Antonio drew her tightly against him. Kyra felt her breasts flatten against his chest, felt the race of his heart against hers. His hands slipped to her bottom; he lifted her up toward him so that his erection pressed hard against the cradle of her femininity…

  And then he let go of her.

  Her eyes flew open; she stared at him and felt as if she were awakening from the deepest of dreams.

  “You see, querida,” he said calmly, “if I wanted you, I would have you.” He folded his arms, his expression impassive. “But I do not want you.”

  He saw the confusion and the vulnerability flash across her face. For the space of a heartbeat he hesitated—but then he remembered who he was and who he had been, and his face hardened.

  “Have you ever worked for your living?” He smiled tightly, his eyes on hers, and his voice became almost gentle. “Never mind,” he said. “I am sure we both know the answer.”

  She stared at him. “What are you driving at, Antonio?”

  “I will employ you for a week’s time, at the end of which I will see to it that you have a passport and a visa so you may leave the country unhindered. And I will pay you enough to get you home in the fashion to which you are accustomed.”

  “Employ me?” she said, her eyes searching his in puzzlement. “Give me a job, you mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But—but doing what?”

  His lips drew back from his teeth. “A good question. After all, what could a woman such as you do that would be of benefit to anyone?” His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. “I have a housekeeper. I shall let Dolores determine your skills and put you to work accordingly.”

  Kyra said nothing for a moment and then she gave a nervous laugh.

  “This is a joke, right?”

  The smile faded from Antonio’s face. “I have never been more serious,” he said coldly. “Now, make up your mind. Do you go with me to San Sebastian, or do I take you to the police station and let you try to convince them of your situation?”

  She stared at him while the seconds flew by, overwhelmed by how much she hated this man! She was burning with the desire to spit in that arrogant face, to claw out those deep blue eyes…

  “Well? What is your decision?”

  “I’ll be your bloody servant for a week,” she said, her voice shaking with anger, “but I promise, Antonio, I’ll get even someday.”

  Head high, she swept past him and got into the car.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THAT Antonio del Rey owned a small, sleek plane he flew himself came as no surprise to Kyra

  Sitting beside him in the cockpit of the Cessna as the lights of the mainland slipped away beneath them, she thought wearily that nothing would ever surprise her again.

  How could it, after today?

  Kyra glanced at the small digital clock that glowed on the instrument panel. Twelve hours had passed since she’d stepped happily out of her cabin on the Empress of the Caribbean and set off for what should have been a pleasant day of sight-seeing and shopping. Instead, she’d been robbed, assaulted, abandoned—and now she was being carried off to who-knew-where by a South American tyrant!

  She was furious with Antonio but almost as furious with herself. How could she have given in to such outand-out blackmail? Wasn’t she the woman who was done with letting men tell her what to do?

  Damn! She should have told him to drive her straight to the door of the nearest police station.

  “I’d rather take my chances with them,” she should have said, “than go anywhere with a macho ape like you!”

  Surely she wasn’t the first tourist to find herself in such a fix.

  Kyra looked out the window. The lights of the mainland had slipped away beneath them. They were flying over water now; except for a thin crescent moon, they were wrapped in inky blackness.

  A knot of fear suddenly lodged in her throat.

  My God, she thought, what am I doing?

  She turned toward Antonio, her heart pounding. She had to tell him she’d changed her mind, demand that he turn the Cessna around and take her back.

  But she couldn’t do that. All she had left was her pride, and she was determined to get out of this with that pride intact. She hadn’t a clue as to why Antonio wanted to humiliate her but she’d be damned if she’d make it easy for him.

  She had no idea how much time had passed before she felt the angle of the plane change. They were starting their descent.

  Kyra’s hands knotted together in her lap. Take deep breaths, she told herself. Think calm thoughts.

  The Cessna’s landing lights illuminated a narrow landing strip carved out of the trees. The wheels touched down lightly and the plane gradually rolled to a stop.

  Antonio shut off the engine and the silence of the tropical night surrounded them.

  “We have arrived,” he said.

  Kyra looked at him. Her heart was beating so quickly she was afraid it might burst through her chest but she met his gaze coolly.

  “I’m glad you told me,” she said. “I never would have guessed.”

  She could see his jaw tighten. “It is late, and I am sure you are as tired as I am. I suggest we dispense with any verbal games and go to the house.”

  The house? What house? She couldn’t see anything out there but the darkness. Where were all the people? Where were the roads and the lights from cars speeding along them?

  “If you have any questions that cannot wait until morning, ask them now.”

  She had a dozen questions, starting with wanting to know why he was doing this to her, but she’d sooner have choked than ask even one.

  “What? No questions?”

  �
��None.”

  “Good.” He smiled tightly. “In that case, welcome to my island.”

  She stared after him as he opened the door and dropped lightly to the ground. A bubble of wild laughter rose in her throat. Welcome to his island? He had to be kidding Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

  Wait a minute. What did he mean, his island? Surely San Sebastian couldn’t be his alone. Surely he hadn’t meant that.

  “Kyra?”

  She turned to the door just behind her. Antonio was standing on the ground, looking up at her. He held out his hand.

  She nodded coolly, as if being dragged off to a dot of land thousands of miles from home were something that happened to people all the time. But her fingers were cold and stiff as she fumbled with her seat belt. At last the belt came undone, and she took a deep breath, determined not to let him see her fear.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, “and I will help you to the ground.”

  She looked down. The ground might have been two feet below her or two miles; between the darkness and the fear, she couldn’t tell. But she’d have stepped off the Empire State Building without a parachute if the alternative meant accepting a favor from him.

  “I can manage,” she said coldly—but as she stepped from the plane, Antonio moved forward and caught her in his arms.

  “Getting out of a plane is not the same as getting out of a limousine! Don’t be an idiot, Kyra. It’s dark, and…”

  His throat seemed to close once she was in his arms. He had not intended to make anything personal of the contact; he had reached out to her instinctively once he realized that she’d forgotten she’d had to climb up in order to get into the plane, and yet the instant her hands fell to his shoulders, his body had seemed to become electrified.

  He wanted to lower her to the ground quickly, to do away with the feel of her small hands, the warmth of her breath against his face. But he couldn’t. It was like being caught in a dream where everything happens in slow motion: her breasts brushing lightly against his chest, her belly and thighs grazing his…

  Dios, he thought, why had he brought her here? It was an incredibly stupid thing to have done So what if she needed a lesson in humility? This was not a moderndress version of The Taming of the Shrew, dammit. It was real life. It was his life, and he had better things to do with it than stand by while his head and his hormones fought it out.

  And that was what had been happening to him since the night he’d first seen her.

  Had he learned nothing over the years?

  He had made this mistake before, so long ago that the memory was only a whisper. Then, he had been too young and too stupid to know that nothing would ever make his blood the proper shade of blue, that what happened in bed with an ice princess had nothing to do with what happened in the heart of a man who knew what it was to earn his living with his hands.

  “Dammit, Antonio, will you put me down?”

  Antonio blinked. She was not just struggling in his arms, she was shaking from having suffered his touch. He took a deep breath, set her on the ground, and lifted his hands from her with exaggerated care.

  “Forgive me,” he said sarcastically. “But you see, there is no doctor on San Sebastian. If you should hurt yourself, what use will you be to me?”

  “How touching.” Her chin came up. It was hard to sound cool and unconcerned when she was still trembling from being in his arms. Damn him! How could he make her feel that way? Kyra forced a scornful smile to her lips. “I wonder, Antonio, do you show all your servants that much concern?”

  “Do not worry. I will see to it that there is clean straw in the dungeon, and since tomorrow is Saturday, I will supplement your ration of bread and water with scraps from the kitchen.”

  “What a charming sense of humor.”

  “Indeed,” he said dryly. He took her arm, ignoring her attempt to wrench free, and guided her to a pickup truck that loomed ahead of them in the darkness.

  He let her scramble into the cab herself. Then he turned the key and set off along a narrow road that led through the trees to the house.

  He parked in the courtyard, just inside the old wrought-iron gate he’d found during his last trip to Spain and had shipped here. The house was dark but Dolores had left the outside lights on and he could see two of his dogs come charging from the gardens, their tails wagging with excitement as they danced around the truck.

  “Are those mastiffs?”

  He looked over at Kyra. “They are crossbreeds. But they will not hurt you unless—”

  Kyra flung her door open and stepped down.

  “Dammit, woman!”

  Antonio jumped from the truck, but the huge dogs had already turned toward her.

  “Hello there,” she said softly.

  The dogs regarded her in silence. One took a stifflegged step forward. Kyra held out her hand.

  “What beautiful babies you are,” she murmured. “Come here and let me get a better look at you.”

  The dogs approached warily. Antonio knew there was no real danger—he had trained the animals himself and they would respond instantly to his command—but Kyra had no way of knowing that.

  He frowned as he watched her. Workmen had been on the island just a few weeks ago—big, burly men with thickly muscled arms and shoulders—and none would come past the gate when the dogs were loose. And yet, here was this slender woman who had just gotten down on her knees and put her arms around the enormous necks of the animals.

  “They’re wonderful!”

  Kyra was looking up at him, her arms still looped about the dogs’ necks, her face creased in an enormous smile.

  Antonio didn’t smile back. “And you are a foolish woman. You did not even consider that the dogs might hurt you.”

  “Well, you said they wouldn’t.”

  “You were out of the truck before I finished speaking.”

  “Well, I—I…” She smiled again, with a little less certainty but without letting go of the dogs. “I really didn’t think about it I’ve always loved dogs, and these guys are just so beautiful…”

  Antonio frowned. He wanted to tell her that you could never judge a creature by its beauty. But there was something about the sight of her as she knelt between the dogs that made it difficult to maintain his anger.

  “Handsome,” he said after a moment. He smiled. “I think they would prefer you think of them as handsome rather than as beautiful.” Kyra laughed. He watched as she stroked the big heads and then he cleared his throat. “So then,” he said, “you have dogs of your own at home?”

  “Oh no.” She looked up at him, her smile dimming. “I always wanted a dog but—”

  “But?”

  “But, my father didn’t approve. He said dogs were dirty creatures that served no useful function, and…” She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture Antonio instinctively knew was more telling than the words she’d spoken. “What are their names?”

  He hesitated He had taken a lot of ribbing about those names from anyone who heard them.

  “Brutus? Thor? Zeus?”

  Antonio couldn’t help smiling. “Not quite. The big black one is called Vergonzoso.”

  Kyra laughed. “Bashful?”

  ”Sí. And the smaller one with the brindled coat is called—”

  “Let me guess.” The dog had collapsed on its back, all four legs waving in the air as it demanded to have its belly rubbed. “This one’s name just has to be Bobo.”

  Antonio grinned. “Dopey. Yes. But how—”

  “Oh, it was easy. I must have seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs a dozen times when I was little.” She rose gracefully to her feet, the dogs close beside her. “I just wouldn’t have expected—”

  “I wanted to give them names that would forever separate them from their old lives.” Antonio reached down and absently rubbed the two big heads that were butting against his legs. “And the names are appropriate.” He smiled. “The black one would not come out from behind the furniture for
the first month after I brought him home. The brindle insisted on behaving like a clown, even though the scars on his body were proof that someone had worked diligently at changing his disposition.”

  Kyra’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

  “I found them when they were puppies, in an alley behind the hotel I was staying at in New York City.” His mouth thinned. “It seems as if dog fighting has its aficionados everywhere.”

  “Thank God you rescued this pair,” she said with a shudder.

  “They had rescued themselves by running away,” Antonio said with a little smile. “I simply adopted them.”

  “And turned them into sweethearts,” Kyra said, smiling down at the animals.

  “I did not turn them into anything but what Nature intended.”

  “Yes, I know. But people always say such unkind things about mastiffs—”

  “They say even worse things about crossbreeds.”

  There was a bitterness in Antonio’s voice that Kyra had not heard before. She looked at him.

  “I never thought about it, but I suppose you’re right.”

  His eyes turned cool. “I know I am right.” A long moment passed and then he frowned and nodded toward the stone steps that led to the front door. “Come,” he said brusquely. “It is very late, and I am sure you are exhausted.”

  What was the sense in denying it? Kyra nodded. Suddenly, she knew she was more than exhausted; she was tired enough so that she was light-headed.

  “Yes, I am. I…”

  She swayed unsteadily and reached out to the iron railing for support, but before she could grasp it, Antonio scooped her into his arms.

  Kyra’s face flooded with color. “Put me down!”

  “I will,” he said coolly, “when I am sure you will have a soft bed to fall on instead of stone steps.”

  Of course. She remembered his earlier admonition that there was no doctor here, and if she hurt herself, she would be useless. But somehow the knowledge that lifting her into his arms and holding her this way was just a convenience for his own peace of mind did nothing to keep her breath from quickening at how it felt to be so close to him.

  “Put your arms around my neck, Kyra.”

  She hesitated, which only made her feel more foolish. His tone was brusque, as impersonal as the reason he’d lifted her in the first place.