Fierce Pride (17 page)

“I’ll send wedding announcements when we get home, and you’re sure to receive many more gifts from our friends,” Linda promised.

“Their good wishes will be enough.” Maggie unwrapped a beautiful silver bowl from her parents. “Thank you so much. We can use this for so many things.”

An ivory silk nightgown and negligee had a card from Patricia and Libby. The set slipped from the box in a romantic swirl. “I love this!” Maggie exclaimed, while Rafael responded with an embarrassed smile.

There was a heavy box from Santos, the twins and Fox. When Rafael opened it and found a beautiful set of sterling silver flatware, he looked to Maggie. “This is too much.”

“No, it isn’t,” Santos insisted. “It’s from the family. Maggie ought to have something that belonged to the Aragon family for her own.”

Maggie picked up a spoon to study the elegant modern design. “This is so pretty. Are you sure you want this set to leave the house?”

“We have too much of everything,” he assured her. “Besides, it’ll remind you to invite us to come for dinner.”

Thinking of his tiny apartment, Rafael laughed, then quickly caught himself. “As soon as we rent a larger place, you’ll be our first guests.”

“Do you need china?” Connie asked.

Maggie squeezed her husband’s hand. “Don’t tell me you have dishes put away somewhere you’d like to give away.”

Santos responded with a lazy grin. “You’ve never seen the basement, have you?”

“There’s a lot more than the washer and dryer down there,” Fox added.

“I’ll look forward to touring it at another time,” Maggie answered. She removed the white bow from a present wrapped in silver paper. Claudio and Nadia had given them a silver frame engraved with their names and wedding date. “Thank you so much. Daddy, you’ve got to send me all the photos, and I’ll choose one for this.”

“That’s a lovely gift,” Linda offered, and Claudio and Nadia beamed at her praise.

“There’s just one more.” Rafael handed it to his bride. “It’s from Cirilda and Alfonso.”

“Better soak it in water,” Fox suggested.

“She wouldn’t wrap a bomb, would she?” Linda asked.

Santos shrugged. “No, but she would have liked to. I won’t make excuses for her. She’ll probably offer an apology in the morning, but it won’t be the last of the trouble she’ll cause.”

“She must be desperate for attention,” Patricia suggested. “Guess she wasn’t her father’s favorite.”

“Do you think I have favorites?” Peter asked, clearly appalled.

“Yes, of course, and everyone knows it’s me,” Patricia claimed with a charming giggle.

“You’re all my favorites,” Peter insisted. “I couldn’t pick one of you girls.”

Rafael saw a threat of tears brighten Maggie’s eyes and reached for the box. “Let’s just open it. He peeled away the shiny white gift wrap, removed the lid and found an expensive set of steak knives. It was a practical gift, but everyone’s eyes widened, for surely Cirilda had meant to taunt him rather than celebrate his marriage.

Maggie leaned close to her husband. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but the woman certainly isn’t subtle.”

It took a moment for Rafael to realize his wife was amused rather than insulted, and he followed her example. “I’ll write to thank her for such a useful gift. May we leave everything here while we’re away?”

“Yes, take them up to Maggie’s room, and they’ll be safe there,” Santos said.

“I’m not ready for the day to end,” Linda murmured softly. Peter took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Our girls are growing up. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“I know, but I’m not ready for it.”

“Maybe you need another piece of cake,” Perry suggested.

“What a wonderful idea,” Libby agreed. “Let’s go back to the dining room and eat there, or is that too much to ask of the kitchen staff?”

Santos was getting better at rising to his feet. “No, Tomas will probably be expecting us.” He let Libby go on in ahead of him and hung back to stay with the twins and Fox. “Thank you again for coming for the wedding. It meant a lot to Maggie and me to have the best part of our family together today.”

Fox whispered, “I didn’t mind coming, but next time don’t invite Cirilda.”

“Remind me.”

Santos drew in a deep breath and released it in a sigh, grateful that the evening had gone as well as it had. Connie caught Maggie’s bouquet, blushed bright red and glanced at Fox. Santos noticed, but Fox had eyes only for Patricia, who’d be gone tomorrow. At least his sudden infatuation had kept him from brooding as he usually did, so on the whole, Santos thought they’d ended the evening ahead. He stood on the porch and waved good-bye with the others as Maggie and Rafael drove away. He wasn’t sure he believed in love, but he was positive he’d never repeat silly promises that couldn’t be kept and call it a marriage.

Chapter Eight

Before they went upstairs to bed, Patricia’s mother pulled her aside. “Fox is very taken with you, but you’ll forget him by the time we land in Minneapolis. Don’t let it get past a good-night kiss, or he’ll go back to school madly in love with you.”

“I really like him. His mother was killed in a plane crash soon after she’d married Miguel. He pretends to barely tolerate the Aragon family, but they’re all he has. I won’t add to his problems and break his heart.”

“You won’t mean to,” Linda stressed, “but you will.”

Patricia planned to meet Fox in the den as soon as Libby went to sleep, but her mother didn’t need to know. “I know everyone has feelings; I won’t lead him on.”

“I worry about you, Patricia,” her mother paused to admit and went on to her room.

Libby and Santos remained in the living room. They were seated on opposite ends of the couch and too tired to move any closer.

“Do you suppose Patricia was right about Cirilda not getting enough attention?” she asked.

“No, Cirilda got too much attention from Carmen. Alfonso won’t speak to me now, but I don’t care. Maybe he’ll remember why he and Cirilda divorced and run for his life before they marry a second time.”

“Perhaps.” She glanced around the well-appointed room. “This has been an extraordinary week.”

“Will you expect me to outdo it next week?”

“No, but we’ll find a way to amuse ourselves.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook out the curls. “I’d like to try the elevator at least once.”

Santos moaned. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I’ve given the staff the day off. Once everyone leaves for the airport, we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Can you wait an extra hour? I want to ride to the airport with my family.”

“I’ll have to,” he answered. “I should ride along with the twins and Fox, but they’re leaving earlier.”

“Not too early, I hope. It’s difficult to get teenagers out of bed.”

“Not half as difficult as getting you into one.”

Libby laughed, got up and pulled him to his feet. “With that sexy smile, you’re sure to sell gallons of cologne.”

“I hope so. I’ll earn a percentage on every bottle. Come here.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her throat, then licked the hollow behind her ear.

She slid her arms around his waist and pressed close. He was so alive and so appealing she didn’t want to let go. She cuddled against him. “Do you think it’s safe to drive the Hispano-Suiza tomorrow? You might be followed again.”

“I don’t think so, but we’ll take the Mercedes to the airport and to the bullring tomorrow afternoon.”

“We’re going to the bullfights?” Astonished, she drew back to study his expression. He didn’t look worried, but the prospect terrified her.

“We’ll be sitting in the stands.” He slid his fingers through her hair to pull her back. “The protesters need someone to die in the bullring, not the crowd. I’ll be of no use to them as a target tomorrow.”

“I don’t know. That’s a logical theory, but it scares me anyway.”

He spread teasing kisses along her jaw. “If you’re afraid of nightmares, come sleep with me tonight.”

Everything about the man felt right. She reached up to touch his thick glossy hair, and he caught her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “Tempting, but not yet. Good night.” She let him ride up in the elevator alone. She’d had enough hurried quickies to last her a lifetime, and from him, she wanted so much more.

When Santos heard the knock at his door, he hoped Libby had changed her mind, but it was Fox. “What do you need?” he asked.

Fox came in, closed the door and leaned back against it. Still in his blazer and gray slacks, he looked sharp and still wide awake. “You know how to get any woman you want. What’s the secret?”

“You’re doing all right with Patricia.”

He gave a reluctant nod. “Maybe, but she’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Santos bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing. He wanted to be a responsible adult, but this was a challenge. “I’ll give you the advice Miguel gave me: Don’t give a damn. Women will ignore a dozen men who are eager to impress them to reach a man who’s looking the other way.”

“Is that how you got Ana Santillan?”

Santos put his bookmark in his book and set it on the nightstand. “I got Ana because my father was too sick to keep her, and she liked the Aragon name.”

Fox’s voice softened. “I liked her.”

“I did too, up to a point.”

Fox remained silent for a long moment. “So I should act like I don’t care until I get the woman I want, and even then I shouldn’t care too much? Is that it?”

Santos hadn’t realized how cynical he’d sounded. “Maybe you should ask someone else for advice.”

“I would, but you’re the resident expert.” He looked around the room, but there was no artwork or photos on display to catch his eye. He straightened up. “Thanks, good night.” He opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.

“Good night.” Santos punched his pillows. Every matador had more women than he could handle, so he’d never had to pursue anyone, unless he counted Libby. She was in a class all by herself. Her fiery spirit as much as her beauty attracted him. She easily countered his every move, and he reluctantly conceded he might have met his match. She’d refuse to be just another girl on his lengthy list, but he was a long way from wanting to settle down. The whole idea gave him chills, and he went to Stephen King for less scary company.

While Libby got ready for bed, Patricia remained dressed, sat in their room’s overstuffed chair and shuffled through one of the magazines she’d brought with her. “Where are you meeting Fox?” Libby asked.

Patricia looked up, her eyes wide. “Whatever made you think I’d want to meet him?”

“Please. You’ve been hanging on each other all day. He’s awfully cute and one of the Aragon heirs.”

“Is that why you like Santos?”

“No.” She searched for a way to describe their attraction. He looked so damn good he’d overwhelmed her in the airport; there was no point in looking for an antidote. She’d follow her instincts, and it had been a conscious decision. She knew it couldn’t last but no longer cared. “There isn’t a checklist. Men either appeal to you or they don’t. It’s great when they do, and I’ll give you ten minutes before I come looking for you. Go and tell Fox good night.”

“You’re the best!” Patricia shot out the door and then had to slow down to close it quietly.

Libby looked at her travel alarm clock. She’d just given herself ten uninterrupted minutes to tell Santos good night, but she wasn’t going to take them when they would have tomorrow afternoon all to themselves, if he made it home from the airport alive.

Fox stood near the bookcase by the couch when Patricia came tiptoeing into the den. He’d wanted to be alone with her, and he didn’t want her to think he didn’t know what to do. He reached up to grab a book from the top shelf to give himself a few seconds to practice looking like he didn’t care, but he misjudged its weight, and the heavy tome slipped from his grasp scattering a handful of letters across the floor. The sketch with gouged-out eyes landed on top.

“Oh my God,” Patricia shrieked. “What is that?”

Fox gathered it up with the other letters. He flipped through them quickly. “They’re addressed to Santos, but there’s no name on the drawing. I didn’t know he got such weird fan mail.”

Patricia surveyed the bookcase with a quick glance. “Why would he put it way up there?”

“So we wouldn’t find it?” Fox offered.

“Yeah, but we did. Let’s go show Libby.” She pulled the letters from his grasp and ran from the room with him trailing right behind.

When Patricia came barreling through the door with Fox, Libby was amazed, she’d only been gone a couple of minutes. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Look at this!” Patricia handed her the gruesome sketch. “Fox found it hidden in a book in the den, just like a secret clue in a mystery.”

Shocked, Libby stared at the revolting drawing. Santos thought there was no longer a threat to his life, but this hideous portrait was far too frightening to ignore. She quickly sorted through the letters. They were written in Catalan and Spanish she couldn’t read, but the dates on most showed they’d come from the previous week. “Let’s go see if Santos is awake.”