Catch Me in Castile (12 page)

“Open your eyes,
querida
. That’s better.” Santiago’s handsome face was taut with concern.

“What happened?” Disoriented, and embarrassed, I tried to sit up.

“Slowly,” he warned.

Resting my head back on his lap, I blinked my eyes, trying to clear my blurry vision. My chest was tight with an unnamed panic. I had the strangest desire to get up and run like mad.

With him peering into my eyes with such feeling, what sane woman would flee?

“Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.

“The man of my dreams?”

Santiago smiled. “Good, you’re feeling better?”

My thoughts were fuzzy. A heavy sense of dread pounded through my veins. Fear had left a foreboding aftertaste. “We have to get out of here,” I mumbled.

“Do you know where you are?” He looked closely at my pupils.

I was stretched out on a very hard floor staring up at an old, sloping, wood-beamed ceiling. I’d been here hundreds of times before. Well, not exactly in his lap, but in this tower. Place of death. “Yes,” I said weakly. “Disneyland.”

“Close enough.” His face was gentle. I imagined he used this soothing tone on scared children in the hospital. “I should’ve listened. You really are afraid of heights.”

“Just today.” And the other day on the balcony. Oh…no, I was developing a phobia.

“You fainted.” The tour guide’s head popped up over Santiago’s shoulder.

“That’s impossible. I don’t faint.” My indignant words sounded like they came from inside a tunnel.

“Did she touch you?” the guide asked me. His face was screwed up in fear.

Santiago glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

“The Tower Ghost. They say one touch and the victim goes insane.”

“No. Still sane,” I replied. At least I hoped I was.

“Shew,” the guide mumbled. “I’d hate to lose another one.”

“Do you mind?” Santiago asked. “She needs air.”

“Of course. Sorry.” The guide stepped back.

Santiago gently moved the hair out of my eyes. “Racing pulse, hyperventilation, temporary loss of consciousness? All classic signs of extreme phobia. You were very brave. I shouldn’t have pressed you to look out the window. Forgive me.”

“I feel like a total idiot.”

He helped me up and held me in his arms for a moment. He was waiting until I was stable on my feet, but being held like that could wobble any girl’s legs.

“Do you want to see the rest of the castle?” The guide asked.

“No,” we replied in unison.

Santiago wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I think the princess has had enough of the tower.”

“More than enough, Knight of the Santiago Order.”

His mouth fell open. “How did you… Oh, Maria took you to the House of Shells.” He grinned. “All right then, I’m rescuing you, fair princess. Let’s go.”

Outside the castle, I peeked back up at the dark window. A cold chill prickled my skin.

“Ghosts.” I shivered. “The screaming got to me.”

He touched my shoulder lightly. “It was only the wind.”

Um, no, the wind didn’t usually yell at me to get away in a woman’s voice.

“You’re feeling normal now?” He gently rubbed my arm as if he were calming a frightened wild pony. We walked back to the parking lot.

Normal
?
I almost snorted. Extreme phobias coming and going, hearing screaming ghosts, being inside the death castle of my nightmares? Being insane was the only sane answer. Sweet God, the craziness that ran in my family was catching me.

“Better.”

“Climb on, princess.” He handed me a helmet and motioned for me to sit behind him on the motorcycle.

I hopped on, feeling very much like a princess hugging her handsome prince. Only the strong steed we rode was a hog, of the motorcycle breed.

Santiago stopped once to call Maria and check Rodrigo’s crude map and then we were off again. It was early evening by the time we reached the lodge. Nestled against the foothills with pines all around was a stunning A-frame with high ceilings, large windows and the biggest log beams I’d ever seen.

“This is it?” I read the sign. “La Querida de las Montañas
.
”

“Sweetheart of the Mountains.” He patted the helmet on my head. “Like you.” After unlocking the ornate wood door, he stepped back so I could go first and flipped the lights on behind me.

The entrance was lovely. Overhead a large crystal chandelier hung from the high-beamed ceiling. Oil paintings of the Spanish countryside hung on the walls. A red carpet lay across the tiled floor. To our right was the dark cherry check-in-counter. Scattered throughout the lobby were several intimate spots where couples could cuddle up on leather couches, drink hot toddies and warm their bodies by the huge rock fireplace.

“Santiago, look at this view.”

He followed me to a gigantic window. We stood shoulder to shoulder in awed reverence. The last of the afternoon sunshine slanting through the window warmed our bodies and painted the snow-capped mountains with its soft yellow glow.

“Are those the Pyrenees? They don’t look real,” I marveled.

“They’re full of magic,” he said softly.

I raised my eyebrows.

“We have a saying: once brushed by the magic of the Pyrenees, good fortune will follow.”

“Have you been brushed by their magic?”

A secret smile played on those full lips. “I’ve been at the feet of the sleeping giants and felt their magic.”

“And the fortune?”

Slowly he turned to face me. “We’re here together.”

It was suddenly hard to swallow. I edged closer. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Why thank me? We wouldn’t have come if you weren’t so ignorant about sports,” he teased.

I socked his shoulder. “I’m not ignorant about all sports. Just silly European ones.”

“Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “You’d better take that back. We Spaniards don’t do anything silly.”

“No? What’s up with that?” With my fingers drumming my hips, I shook my head sadly. “Lame sports and no sense of fun? That’s messed up.”

He squinted at me. “Are you insulting my countrymen?”

“Stating facts. I do have an idea how we can bring a little silly into your life.”

He crossed his hands over his chest. “Plop down in front of—forgive my language—the boob-tube? Catch one of those highly intelligent American reality shows?”

“Not a show. Just catch—” I shoved him and took off running, “—me.”

Being alone in the lobby gave my feet wings. My shoes made slapping sounds, echoing off the high ceilings as the carpet changed to hardwood and then tile and back to carpet again beneath my feet. I didn’t look back.

Startled at first, he quickly jumped into the game and was in hot pursuit. I squealed. Career woman was long gone. I was deliriously free. Breathing heavily, I rounded a red leather couch. We circled the couch a few times, warily eyeing each other.

“There’s no way you’re going to catch me,” I taunted. “Might as well give it up.”

“Think so?”

To my amazement he leapt over the back of the couch, landing square in front of me, graceful as a cat. “Track team.” He smiled triumphantly. “Hurdles.”

“Hey, no fair!” I protested when he repeated my move by pushing me backwards onto the couch. I stopped protesting the moment he landed lightly on top of me.

“Wrestling team too.” He pinned my arms and legs beneath his hot body. “Any other macho sports you wish me to demonstrate?”

I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. His deep laughter joined mine and resonated throughout the lobby. I hadn’t heard him laugh like that before. It was music to my ears.

“Say it.”

“What?” My chest heaved up and down against his.

“‘Spaniards are the best.’”

“At?”

“This…” His lips met mine.

He kissed like a man in need. Desperate, burning need. His lips laid claim to me like he owned me. I kissed him back, giving in to all the want flooding through my body. Desire, hunger, joy I’ve never known, all swirled together in a heady mix making my head spin.

I wanted more, much, much more. Melting into the couch, I was a puddle of boneless, burning electricity. I opened my eyes halfway to gaze at him. Oh man, the way this man kissed. Glorious. Beauty. Haaawwt. I closed my eyes again and let him take me away.

Then tragedy struck.

He ripped his lips from mine and bolted upright. “Why’d you do that?” He rubbed his cheek as if he’d been stung.

“Um, you kissed me. Not that I mind.”

His face was a mixture of surprise and alarm. “Your hands. I pinned them.”

I wiggled my arms out from under him. “You did, but I doubt you’d be able to do it again,” I taunted playfully. “Here they are. Free. Try to get them.”

“But how did you…?”

“Are you okay? You’ve gone all pale on me. Except for…hey, what’s that mark on your cheek?”

He had on his serious doctor eyes. “Maria told me what happened in Los Angeles.”

“Maria told you?”
That little skunk.
“Everything?”

“You’ve been through an emotional trauma.”

“That’s true…” I had no idea where he was going with this.

“If you’re confused about being here with me. I understand.”

“Wait. What?”

He rubbed his cheek. “It’s not your fault. You’re vulnerable. I shouldn’t have pinned your arms.”

I sat up. “I’m not as vulnerable as you’d think. Come here, let me prove it to you.” I started to wrap my arms around his neck, but he ducked under them and flew off the couch.

“I’ll see if there’s any food in the kitchen. You rest.” He pointed to the couch. “After the fainting spell in the tower, you shouldn’t have been running.”

In shock, I watched him go. “Oh, wow,” I sighed, sinking back into the couch. How in the world was I ever going to get through to such a man? His barriers were so darn thick.

My body was still sizzling. I ran a finger across my lips, praying he would come back and kiss me again.

He searched the refrigerator. Bare. The pantry. Not much. Cabinets. A box of crackers. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, he caught sight of his reflection in the chrome oven handle. He moved closer and peered at his distorted face. The outline of a handprint was clearly visible.

Why’d she do it? And the fainting episode—clearly she was more unstable than he’d originally thought. What in the hell was her mental state? Phobia, for sure, a hint of bipolar disorder as well? Maria said Erin was depressed after losing her job, was she now swinging toward manic? And what about the voice she’d heard in the tower? Dear God, was she schizophrenic too?

He blew out a heavy breath. He liked her. Too damn much. But he couldn’t get involved. No matter what Maria said, it would be cruel to date a woman in emotional distress knowing full well he’d never commit to her. Better to end things now, before they got out of hand.

He would be a friend to her—obviously she needed one. But a
novio
? No, that honor he would leave to a better man. He just couldn’t do it.

Her senses were growing stronger and more acute the longer she stayed awake. And what she sensed now made her blood boil.

Serena smelled death on the man. He stank of murder and deceit.

Why does Erin care for him?

It did not matter. Serena knew Erin was her only pathway to Andrés. In the short time she had been near Erin, Serena recalled bits and pieces of her life. Her memories were weaving together like a tapestry. How wonderful to remember her childhood and the fateful day she met her beloved.

Serena sighed.
I cannot forget again.

She knew what she must do. She would cling to Erin until all the memories came back—the good ones and those which terrified her. Once she remembered everything, she would know how to find Andrés.

There was only one problem—Santiago, the man of death.

She studied him as he slammed cabinet doors. He was a danger to her plans and to Erin’s life. She had to stop him.

Glaring at Santiago, she whispered, “I shall strike you again if I have to. Leave my savior alone.”

The women he loved had hurt him, badly. His mother, his fiancée, possibly even Helena had all inflicted damage in their own way. His defense mechanisms had flown up like the Great Wall of China around his heart.

I’ve got to get through to him
.

I don’t know how it happened so fast, but I was in love. Head-over-heels, ready-to-fall-on-my-butt sort of love. Now all I had to do was convince Santiago to take the fall with me.

If I had my Get a Life Journal, I would write:

4) Get through to Santiago, if it kills me. And stop flipping out
.

“Not much here to eat,” he called, as he walked down the hall.

I rose to meet him. “You’re hungry? I’m still full from lunch.”

“What about dinner and breakfast? There’s no food. I’ll ride to one of the mountain villages for supplies.”

“Now? It’ll be dark soon.”

“That’s why I’m leaving now.”

Is it?
“Do you want me to go with you?”

“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you take a bath, get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Cleaning up had a nice ring to it, plus I didn’t relish getting back on that bike so soon. “If you’re sure.”

“Lock the front door. I have the key.”

Moments later the whine of his motorcycle echoed down the canyon. I had never heard such a lonely sound.