Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) (8 page)

However, if El Leon and his men came, Paulo knew that he, Javier and Carlos on their own would not be able to fight them off. Therefore, the previous night and the whole of that morning he had been out speaking to some of his strongest farmers to ask them if they were willing to come and stay at the house until Mary left. The timing was terrible, as there was coffee that needed harvesting and many of the men that Paulo spoke to said that they wouldn’t be able to come until after the harvest. Other men said that they weren’t able to help as they, or a member of their family, were sick even though they all looked in good health. Paulo knew that they were making excuses because they were scared of El Leon and his men, but he didn’t blame them. However, in the end he finally managed to muster up ten men who were now standing guard around the house.

Paulo pulled a small pistol out of a drawer in his desk, checked that it was loaded and put it carefully inside his jacket.

Chapter 7

Mary walked past the creepy picture of the woman that looked like her and went upstairs to her room. The relief of getting rid of Nick had made her almost light-headed, so she lay down on her bed and let the breeze that came in from the balcony windows blow over her. She might not be having the most exciting time of her life in Paulo’s house, and he certainly wasn’t the best company, but at least the weather was cooler and less humid up here in the hills, the food was fabulous and the bed sheets were crisp linen and smelt of the sun. However, it didn’t look as though she would ever be sharing them with Don Paulo. He had seemed really angry with her when she said that she had split up with Nick and what did he mean when he said, “You have no idea what he can do”? Nick was hardly Mr Tough Guy and certainly no match for a man like Paulo. Compared to Paulo with his heavy jaw and broad shoulders, Nick looked like a pathetic teenager.

Mary had been stupid to waste two years of her life with Nick and let herself be taken in by his boyish charm. What she needed now was a real man, someone who was strong not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well; someone who wouldn’t run off every time something scary or more exciting cropped up. She needed someone who wasn’t constantly looking for the next big thrill or event. In fact, she didn’t need anyone at all. She could look after herself perfectly well.

“Bang!” Mary heard a loud gun shot ring out from the front of the house. She jumped off the bed and went to her balcony widow to see what it was. Below her there were almost a dozen heavily armed men roaming around. On the ground lay a mangy, wild dog. A pool of blood was forming around its body. Paulo came running out from the front door and started talking to the men who all began talking at once and pointing at the dog. After a few minutes of commotion, a couple of men picked up the dead animal and carried it round to the back of the house leaving a trail of blood behind them.

Mary left her room and went downstairs to see what was going on.

“Just a stray dog,” Paulo explained to her in the main entrance of the house.

“But why did they have to shoot it?” Mary demanded. “Do your men shoot every stray dog they see?”

“I’ve heard reports that one of the local dogs is infected with rabies. I cannot say if this dog had the disease; I personally don’t think it did, but we cannot be certain. The man who shot it was merely trying to protect himself and all of us. A rabid dog is a very dangerous creature.”

“Is that why you have a dozen men outside your house with guns? Because of rabid dogs?” Mary didn’t want to have infected dogs running around the place, but she didn’t think that it took that many people to stop them. She looked outside the open door. The men were standing around doing nothing in particular, except for one man who was cleaning his gun. She guessed that he was the person who had shot the dog.

“You think they are here to stop rabid dogs?” Paulo asked. “No. They are here to stop a sick man.”

“A sick man?” Maybe someone had already been bitten. Mary hoped not. “Who’s sick?”

“Why, El Leon of course!”

“What’s he planning to do? He’s not planning to kill another one of your horses, is he?”

“He’s threatening to . . . He wants to . . .” Paulo seemed lost for words. “You read the messages. You saw those awful pictures. You know what he’s planning to do.”

“What messages? What pictures?” Mary had no idea what he was talking about.

 “The ones on my computer.” Paulo pointed in the direction of his study. “I should have deleted them, but then you shouldn’t have been snooping around on my computer reading them.”

“I’m sorry I was on your computer.” Mary felt that she now knew why Paulo was so angry. She shouldn’t have been messing about in his study. “I know I should’ve asked you first, but there was no one around at the time. I looked everywhere. The house was empty and I just wanted to check my emails. I had one from Nick. To be honest it was pretty awful. It was all about how he’s managed to get his story sold and how he’s got an invitation to some fancy party. He’s such a self-centred idiot. I sent him one back telling him that I’ve finished with him. From now on I don’t need him or anybody.”

“You need me.”

“No, I don’t! I don’t need you, Nick or anyone else.”

“You are mistaken. You need me to take care of you. You are my responsibility and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

Mary stared at Paulo. He looked very certain of himself. She knew that he had been very generous and helped her out a bit financially. However, she didn’t need looking after like some kind of child and Paulo certainly did not possess her just because of a stupid game of poker.

“You aren’t responsible for me. You don’t own me. I can do as I please. If you could just lend me some money, I’ll go to La Puesta and stay there until it’s time for me to fly back to London. As soon as I’m home, I’ll send you a cheque for the amount that I’ve borrowed.” Or rather, she would get Nick to send a cheque. It was the least that he could do after what he’d put her through.

“I can give you some money and you can go to La Puesta, but El Leon and his men will follow you there. How long do you think it will take for them to find you? An hour? A day? An exceptionally attractive young English woman all alone in a city with no friends . . .”

Mary wasn’t sure if he was trying to compliment her or threaten her. “What does El Leon want with me and why would he follow me?”

“Even if you didn’t read his messages on my computer, and I’m glad that it appears that you did not, I have already told you that El Leon is determined to have you and El Leon is not a man who gives up easily, but then again, nor do I.” He gave her a sultry look and laid his hand on her arm.

Mary looked straight back at him into his large, dark brown eyes. She could feel the strength of his fingers on her bare skin. A warm heat rose up from deep inside her. Her checks started to burn red. She pulled her arm back and turned aside only to be confronted by the portrait of the lady in the scarlet frock. The woman in the painting gazed down at her.

“What about your wife?” Mary asked. She wondered what his wife thought about her staying in their house, especially as her husband, Paulo, seemed to be making advances on his guest. “What does she think about me being here with you?”

“My wife? What do you mean? I’m not married. Who told you that I was?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Isabella. She told me that you had a wife.”

“Impossible! Isabella has known me all my life. She knows that I’ve never been married. Why would she say such a thing? In fact, how could she say such a thing? She doesn’t speak any English and I thought you didn’t speak any Spanish. You must be mistaken.”

“Yes, I must have misunderstood,” Mary felt embarrassed, but she was also very pleased at the same time. She was thrilled to hear that there was no wife. Not only was Paulo single, but so was she. She looked up at him and tried to give him her most beguiling smile. However, Paulo was not looking at her. He had started walking off in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.

“Where is Isabella? She should be back by now.” Paulo called out to Isabella in Spanish, but there was no reply. “Have you seen her?” he asked Mary.

“No, I haven’t. The last time I saw her was this morning when she brought me some breakfast. Paulo, this painting,” Mary pointed at the portrait next to her and was about to ask him about it when he interrupted her.

“I don’t have time to talk about that now. I must find Isabella. God forbid that anything should happen to her.” Paulo rushed off through the house leaving Mary staring at the woman in the picture who gazed back at her with identical, golden brown eyes.

When Paulo walked back into the hallway several minutes later there was a look of panic in his eyes.

“I can’t find her anywhere,” he called out to Mary. “She should’ve been back several hours ago. There’s no sign of her. I’ll have to go out in the jeep and look for her. If that bastard, El Leon, has laid a single finger on her . . .”

“I’ll come with you,” Mary said, following him out the door and onto the broad driveway.

“No, you have to stay here, where you’ll be safe.” Paulo called out something in Spanish to the men that were standing around the house.

“I’m coming with you.” Mary climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep.

“Get out of the car.”

Mary shut the passenger door and put on her seat belt. “If anything has happened to Isabella, it’s because of me. I’m coming with you to look for her.”

 “I don’t have time to argue.” Paulo got into the jeep next her, while Javier and Carlos jumped into the back, both with rifles over their backs. As soon as they were in, Paulo drove off at full speed.

As he drove, Paulo explained that Isabella had moved into the house when he was just four years old, after his mother died of cancer. Isabella looked after him as a child, and continued to care for him by cooking and looking after the house. She had never married, but every Friday she went back to her village on the other side of Corazon to visit her sister and her sister’s family. Her brother-in-law, Jorge, would pick her up after breakfast and bring her back after lunch. Paulo always insisted that Isabella could stay longer at her sister’s house, but Isabella always argued that she had to get back in time to start cooking the dinner. In the thirty years that Paulo had known her, she had never come back late, not even once, until today.

After driving at a break-neck speed along hills covered in coffee plants, they came down into the valley. Mary could feel the humidity rising. Her back began to feel damp against the leather of the car seat. She tried to breathe in some fresh air through the window, but all she got was a mouthful of dust and car fumes. She could just see Corazon in the distance when they spotted a battered old saloon car by the side of the road directly in front of them.

“It’s Jorge’s car. Isabella’s brother-in-law’s,” Paulo said and he pulled up directly alongside it. As soon as the jeep came to a halt, everyone got out and began to inspect the abandoned car. It didn’t take much to see what the problem was. One of the front tyres was punctured making the car impossible to drive. The men muttered together amongst themselves while Mary stretched her legs. After a few minutes Paulo walked over to her and explained that Isabella and her brother-in-law had probably walked or hitched a lift back to Corazon to fetch one of the local mechanics to help them with the car. He felt certain that if they drove into the town they would find them there.

Paulo called out to Javier and Carlos, and everyone got back into the jeep. Paulo continued to drive quickly and soon they were within sight of the main town square. However, instead of the drab facades of the hotel, courthouse and bar, the place had been transformed into a riot of colour and decorations. Across every street lamp there where paper banners in all the colours of the rainbow and down every building front there were hundreds, if not thousands, of rows of lights. However, the most spectacular of all was the church. Normally adorned with a few lights, it now had millions of coloured streamers fluttering across it, as well as huge displays of flowers at the front. Down the steps there were rows upon rows of candles waiting to be lit. Also, all over the square, men and women were setting up large wooden tables on which they were putting out items for sale, everything from local handicrafts to food and wine.

“It’s the feast day of the Saint,” Paulo explained as they walked across the square. “Everyone is getting ready for the fiesta tonight. Jorge and Isabella will have problems finding a mechanic who is free to help them. When it’s fiesta time, everything else stops.”

“Where do you think they are?” Mary asked.

“They will have gone to Jorge’s cousin’s house. It’s just around the corner. Follow me.”

They stepped into a narrow side street. Coloured banners also streamed down the sides of the houses here, though not in the same quantity as they did in the main square. After they had passed a couple of houses, Paulo rang the bell next to a brightly painted blue door. Within seconds it was answered by a large, bald man wearing a stained vest and loose, grey trousers. He greeted Paulo warmly, but when Paulo stepped aside and tried to introduce Mary, the man stepped back into the doorway. “Dios mio!” he muttered under his breath. His eyes were wide open in horror. Paulo talked to him rapidly in Spanish. After a few minutes the man gestured for them all to come inside and invited Paulo and Mary to sit down on a battered sofa in front of a huge TV on which a football game was being shown. Javier and Carlos lurked in the doorway.

Mary didn’t understand a word that they were saying, but from the way that Paulo seemed to sit back and relax, it appeared that Isabella and Jorge were in no danger. However, their host kept on staring at Mary as if she were some type of alien creature. It was the same reaction that Isabella had had when she first met her and Mary guessed that it was something to do with her remarkable resemblance to the woman in the painting in Paulo’s hacienda. Paulo had been so busy talking to her about Isabella on their way there and Mary felt so guilty about what might have happened to Isabella that she hadn’t yet asked Paulo about that painting.