Fierce Pride (9 page)

Maggie wrapped her arm around Rafael’s. “My sister began flirting with the doctors in the delivery room. I’ll forgive her if you will.”

“Of course, I’m flattered,” he replied.

Six feet tall, Peter maintained his trim build with cross-country skiing during Minnesota’s long winters and running in the summers. At forty-eight, his fair hair was still thick and curly, and Linda had always thought him handsome. He was an attorney with a gift for convincing arguments. “Maggie knows I have a thing for cars, but I didn’t mean to be rude. Your engagement came as a surprise, but Maggie has a high opinion of you, and we trust her judgment.”

Linda tried not to stare at Rafael. Blonde and blue-eyed like her husband and two youngest daughters, she wore her hair in a stylish bob. She relied upon yoga and Pilates to retain her slim figure and graceful flexibility and looked years younger than forty-five. “We have so much to plan. Will your family be helping us?”

“I have no family, but Maggie and I want only a small wedding. We could plan it at breakfast Saturday morning and have it in the afternoon.”

Linda sighed. “Let’s hope for something more memorable, shall we? Just because a wedding is small, it needn’t be without charm. Didn’t Libby come with you?”

Maggie squeezed Rafael’s hand. “My brother, Santos, is home with a knee injury, and Libby is keeping him company.”

“Playing nurse sounds like fun,” Patricia responded with a sparkling giggle, and her mother turned to see what she’d found so amusing. Patricia produced the innocent wide-eyed smile she relied upon to stay out of trouble. With a mass of fair curls and big blue eyes, she’d always had more fun than her two older sisters combined. Or at least she had until Maggie met Rafael.

The family had brought only carry-on luggage, and Rafael took Linda’s as they walked to the exit for arriving passengers. They had only a few minutes to wait before Manuel drove up in the Hispano-Suiza. Linda and Patricia were as fascinated by the beautiful long, low sedan as Peter.

“Do you rent the car out for movies?” Patricia asked.

Uncertain, Maggie turned to ask Manuel in Spanish, and he gave a long, thoughtful reply as he loaded the luggage in the trunk. She omitted her father’s name in her translation. “The family allows only still photos. We can take pictures when we get home. Rafael and I will follow you to the beach house in his car. The view of the coast is spectacular, and the house is right on the water.”

“The beach house,” Peter murmured under his breath.

Maggie hadn’t meant to brag when there was such little comparison between the comfortable home Peter provided and Miguel Aragon’s. “There’s a cattle ranch that’s thought of as home,” she explained and feared she’d only made things worse.

Linda kissed her good-bye, then climbed into the beautiful vintage car with Patricia and her husband following. Manuel waited for Rafael to drive up behind them in his Mercedes before he exited the parking lot. Patricia turned to wave through the back window, and Maggie waved back.

“Peter raised me, so he’s my father. I’m grateful he made this trip, but staying in Miguel’s house won’t be easy for him.”

“Nor your mother,” Rafael added. “Had she stayed with Miguel, you’d have grown up here.”

“My mother isn’t the type to tolerate a philandering husband.”

“Philandering? Is that word still used?”

“I don’t know. It’s a step beyond unfaithful, and that certainly applies where Miguel was concerned. He told me he’d cheated on all his wives.”

Rafael checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes to stay with Manuel. “He admitted that?”

“Yes, and it’s not something a man ought to confide in his daughter.”

Traffic slowed, but they kept the Hispano-Suiza in sight. “No, it isn’t. We’ll have to make a point not to mention him. Your parents are here for the wedding, and we can keep Miguel out of it.”

Maggie reached over to squeeze his thigh. It wouldn’t matter whether they spoke Miguel’s name or not. He’d still be there in every breath and sigh.

Santos pulled another pillow behind his back and settled down into the sofa. He was clean-shaven and dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts. A fabric brace had replaced the bulky bandage on his knee. “This might be our last chance to talk. Rafael’s been so damn helpful, I hate to plot against him, but I still don’t want him for a brother-in-law. I don’t trust a man with a past we can’t trace.”

Libby sat on the sturdy oak coffee table to face him. He’d come home from the hospital after a single night, and Rafael had seldom left his side. The house had an elevator for the servants in the back hall near the kitchen, and he’d used it to get upstairs and down without too much difficulty. He was in surprisingly good spirits for an athlete who’d be on the mend for the next few months, but she thought it might be more for show than real.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Look at it this way, Rafael won’t hide the fact he’s been in prison, and that makes it difficult not to like him, but I don’t want to be there when he tells my father he’s served time for murder. Dad’s never raised his voice to us, but I’ve seen him go off when he’s been provoked by a judge’s poor decision. Mother always calms him down, but this time she’ll be equally upset.”

He took her hand and drew it to his lips. “Come up to my room, and we’ll hide together.”

She laced her fingers in his. “Don’t tempt me. This whole situation is bizarre. There are lots of combined families, but this one is unusual by any standard. I can’t side against Rafael now that I know him, but my parents won’t understand. Poor Maggie will be caught in the middle.”

Santos drew in a deep breath. “We won’t have caused the trouble, which works to our advantage. Anyway, you’ll go home and may never see Rafael again. I won’t be that lucky.”

She hadn’t meant to bring feelings into it, but when he’d fallen in the bullring, it had been impossible not to care about him. He’d just dismissed her as a brief visitor, and she was embarrassed by how badly it hurt. She leaned over to kiss him, and he slid his fingers through her hair to hold her close. Tears came to her eyes as she pulled back, and she hurriedly brushed them away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She had no easy answer, and her anxiety rose as she heard the cars pull into the driveway.

Mrs. Lopez greeted Maggie’s family with a curt nod. “Your luggage will be taken to your rooms. Santos is waiting for you in the den. Would you care for refreshments, something to drink?”

“I’d like a Coke,” Patricia answered.

Peter surveyed the wide entryway. They’d eaten in fine restaurants that weren’t as large. “Do you have iced tea?”

Mrs. Lopez barely controlled a sneer. “We take pride in providing whatever our guests desire.”

“Iced tea for me too, thank you,” Linda responded.

Libby came from the den to greet them. “How was your trip?”

“Too long,” Peter replied. He hugged Libby and followed her into the den. The first thing he saw was the stunning painting of Miguel Aragon at the height of his career. The talented artist had caught the famed matador facing down a fierce Miura bull with a deft swing of his cape. Peter’s horrified gaze drifted to the man on the sofa.

“I’m Santos. Please forgive me for not standing.”

Linda stared at Santos, paled as though she’d seen a ghost and fainted. Peter caught her before she hit the rug.

“Mom!” Patricia cried.

“Bring her here.” Libby directed her father to a large black leather chair near the sofa. “Run to the kitchen, Patricia, and bring her a glass of water.”

Patricia shrugged helplessly. “Where is the kitchen?”

Rafael and Maggie walked into the confusing scene and looked to Santos for an explanation.

“I look too much like my father,” he answered. “I’ll go outside.” He reached for the crutches on the floor beside him. Rafael helped him rise.

“No, wait,” Libby begged. “She was just surprised. Look, she’s already coming around. We should have warned her how much you look like Miguel, and this wouldn’t have happened.”

Maggie brought a glass of water from the adjacent bathroom. “Here, take a sip, Mom. The trip must have worn you out.” She looked over her shoulder to send a pleading glance to Rafael. Any confessions he had would have to wait.

Santos used his crutches to slide by Rafael. “I don’t want to scare her twice. I’ll be on the patio.”

Linda gulped the water. “I’m sorry, I know Miguel’s dead, but I didn’t expect his double. I should go to my room and rest before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

“No one thinks that, sweetheart,” Peter assured her.

Julian entered, carrying their drinks, and Patricia reached for hers. “Let’s rest a minute here, Mom. We can unpack later.”

Peter handed Linda her iced tea and took his own. “Thank you.”

Julian nodded and, with a last lingering glance toward Patricia, left the room.

“He’s cute,” Patricia whispered.

“You may not flirt with the servants,” Linda emphasized. “I do so wish you’d come home, Maggie. It would have made everything so much easier.”

“I’m going to make certain Santos is all right,” Rafael said and left the room.

“Wow,” Patricia enthused. “He’s so hot.”

“Patricia, please,” her father cautioned. He moved to the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “Is he really the man you want?”

Maggie joined him and couldn’t contain her smile. “Yes, he’s as serious a man as he looks. He’s going to med school in the fall, and there wasn’t time to come home and plan a big wedding. Neither of us wants one anyway.”

“Med school?” Linda repeated. “He’s given up being a matador?”

“It was a childhood dream he outgrew.”

Peter failed to hide a yawn. “Maybe we should go up to our room and rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Patricia interjected. “Where did Rafael and Santos go?”

Libby stood to give their parents time alone with Maggie. “I’ll show you.” She walked her sister to the doorway behind the wide stairs and paused. “Don’t flirt with Rafael, because he’s Maggie’s. As for Santos, he’ll take more than you mean to give, so keep clear of him too.”

“Now I’m intrigued. Have you slept with him?”

“No, and I’m not going to and neither are you.”

Patricia twisted into a playful pose. “After coming all this way, I should sample the local culture.”

Libby pushed open the door leading outside. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

The ocean view caught Patricia’s eye, and she pulled off her flip-flops and walked toward the sand. “I want to step into the ocean first. It’s the Mediterranean, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’ll wait for you on the patio.”

Patricia’s fair curls caught the afternoon light as she skipped over the sand, and Libby feared Santos would see her baby sister as a voluptuous cream puff he couldn’t resist. She’d have to set him straight fast. Confident Patricia couldn’t get lost, she joined the men, but neither looked happy to see her. “I’m sorry my parents’ visit got off to such a poor start.”

Santos’s glance followed Patricia. “I’m the one who might have fainted. My mother hanged herself when Miguel married your mother.”

Libby reeled from the shock. “Oh God, she didn’t!”

Rafael nodded. “She did, out at the ranch. Your mother probably doesn’t know, so it would be a kindness not to tell her.”

“Kind? I understand. Don’t tell Patricia either. She’s as discreet as a sieve.” Feeling sick for Santos, she took a chair at the table beside him. Talk about abandonment issues. She didn’t understand how a woman could kill herself when she had a baby to raise, and Santos must have been a beautiful child. Maybe it had been post-partum depression, but the diagnosis would be a small consolation to him now. “I thought you were close to Maggie in age but not older. Let’s hope my mother doesn’t ask when you were born.”

Patricia had struck up a conversation with a pretty young woman by the shore, and Libby worried she might wander off. “I better keep an eye on Patricia.”

Santos watched her walk toward the shore. “With those legs, I wish Libby would always wear shorts. You know what bothers me?” he added.

“Your knee, probably,” Rafael posed.

“Yes, that too, but my father spent most of his life chasing women who closely resembled Maggie’s mother. He must have regretted losing her.”

Rafael shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I swear I could have a better conversation with this table.”

“You like to be surrounded by people. I don’t.”

“Some doctor you’re going to be. Have you considered going into pathology?”

“No. Don’t you believe I’ll have much of a bedside manner?”

“No.”

He flashed a wide grin. “Maggie would disagree.”

Santos glared at him, but clearly Rafael had won that exchange. “I wish I still had my condo. I didn’t realize how awkward it would be to have Maggie’s parents here. They’re so damn blonde and, I don’t know, American, I suppose. Do you realize what you’ll be getting into?”

“We won’t be having Sunday dinner together every week.”