Secrets Of Castillo Del Arco. Trish MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
who had cradled her, letting her cry her eyes out, offering her the remnants of his own shattered heart. ‘That cannot be right.’
‘Then you do not know him very well, after all. Come,’ he said, opening her car door so she could precede him into the vehicle. ‘Forget Raoul; there are more important things to think about right now.’ He tapped the waiting driver on the shoulder to let him know they were ready. ‘Like arranging for your things to be moved from the house into my apartment. Given you’re on leave, it would be the perfect time.’
She blinked, momentarily stunned. Where had that come from? ‘What are you talking about?’
But he was engrossed in the traffic, scanning it, almost as if he was looking for someone. Raoul? Surely he was a long way behind. And then he turned back to her, smiling, and she wondered if she’d imagined his nervousness. ‘Come on, darling. Now that your grandfather’s gone, there’s no reason why we should live apart any longer.’
‘We haven’t talked about this.’
He took her hand in one of his, patted it with the other. ‘Come, Gabby, you know as well as I do that half the reason you haven’t moved in already is because your grandfather needed you. Now there is no reason for us to be apart. Now it is time you were looked after the way you should be. The way I want to look after you.’
She shook her head. ‘Consuelo …’
‘Of course, I can always move in with you, but I thought you might prefer a fresh start somewhere else, somewhere without the memories.’
‘I like where I live,’ she said, stiffening and wondering what she had said or done to make him think she was ready to move in with him. ‘And my grandfather is barely cold in his grave. I would actually prefer not to have to deal with this today.’
He sighed and lifted her hand to his lips, although his eyes lacked any warmth to go with it. ‘I’m sorry, Gabby. I’m rushing you. Of course we can talk later.’
Much later, she thought, clutching her coat at her neck and wondering what it was that was throwing Consuelo so off-kilter today; he was so very anxious as he resumed his busy scanning of the traffic.
They were almost at the hotel when Consuelo’s phone buzzed again. He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his ear, and Gabriella looked across, wondering if it was Phillipa again wanting to know how far away they were. But even as she watched the colour drained from Consuelo’s face.
‘Mierda!’ he said, before he snapped it off and shoved it away, tapping the driver on the shoulder. ‘Stop here. Let me out here.’
‘Consuelo, what’s wrong?’ she asked as the driver cut across two lanes of traffic, to the squeal of tyres and the blare of horns, to double park on the side of the road. ‘Who was that?’
But he was already climbing out. ‘A problem at the office. I have to go.’ And then he slammed the door and disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
The priest’s words were moving, the condolences she received from old friends and associates heartfelt, and Gabriella felt one kind of peace descend on her soul. Her grandfather had been much loved by all who had known him, had touched so many lives, and it was clear that it wasn’t just her who would be left with an Umberto-sized hole in her heart.
But now the wake was winding down and she felt suddenly deflated with it. She’d turned her phone on to silent, hoping that she might get some news from Consuelo, some kind of explanation, but there had been no messages explaining his sudden disappearance or when he might join her. She was beginning to think he wouldn’t make it at all.
And maybe she could have lived with that if Raoul had bothered to turn up like he’d promised. She’d hoped he’d soon follow them from the cemetery. From the very first minute she’d stepped into the hotel’s plush reception-room, she’d been anticipating his arrival, scanning the room for a hint of his broad, dark-clad shoulders or a glimpse of his blue-black hair. She longed for the dark solidity of his presence. She longed for the comfort she’d found in it at the cemetery, a comfort she yearned for now.
He’d promised he’d come. She ached with wanting him to come. So where was he?
Phillipa appeared at her side and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘Do men always let you down?’ she mused as she stared blankly into a cold cup of coffee in her hands that she battled to remember picking up. First Umberto, the grandfather who had taken her in as a grieving twelve-year-old and had been both mother and father to her, was gone. Then Consuelo, who couldn’t even stop thinking about his foundation for just one day, disappeared to who knew where and for how long? And now Raoul, who she’d lost before she’d even found again.
‘Hey, don’t worry,’ said Phillipa. ‘You know how he is,’ she continued, clearly only seeing one side to Gabriella’s concerns. Her friend squeezed her hand as she prised the neglected cup from her fingers. ‘The foundation is everything to him. He’s got caught up in something, that’s all. And, for the record, men don’t always let you down. Not all of them, at any rate.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, remembering Phillipa’s gorgeous husband. ‘I’m just feeling maudlin. You have a keeper of a man. He is a wonder to bring you all the way from London just for me and with such a young baby.’
She kissed Gabriella’s cheek. ‘Nothing is too much trouble for you, but you’re right; Damien is a keeper, but he will need rescuing from our baby soon. Will you be all right if I leave?’
‘I’ll be fine. You’ve been so wonderful today. Oh, and I meant to say before, thanks for calling while we were at the cemetery. I lost track of time completely out there.’
Her friend looked blank.
‘You phoned Consuelo,’ Gabriella prompted. ‘To tell him the priest was waiting for me to begin his talk.’
Phillipa frowned and shook her head. ‘I never called. I don’t even have his number.’ It was Gabriella’s turn to blink. Why had Consuelo made out that she had? Unless he’d been so desperate to get her away from Raoul that he’d resorted to lies to do it. What had happened between the two men that nobody was letting on about?
Phillipa put a hand on her elbow. ‘Gabriella, are you okay?’
Suddenly it was too hard to think. She put a hand on her brow. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got a rotten headache. I must have misunderstood.’ Her friend smiled and squeezed her arm.
‘Let me get you some painkillers and some water. It might take the edge off it.’
Gabriella sighed, letting herself sag, hidden for a moment behind a marble pillar, trying desperately to relax. Her head hurt. Her feet ached. And her heart felt like a giant void. If only she could take a pill for that. Today she’d said goodbye to her grandfather, the man who had taken on the role of both her parents and more when they had been ripped from her life. Such a good man. Such a brilliant man. Why did the world—why did she—have to live without him just yet?
She looked around the room, looking at the few remaining guests talking over their coffee and cognac, wondering if anyone would notice if she simply disappeared. But she was kidding herself. Of course she couldn’t just slip away. She would have to stay until the grim and bitter end.
Then the air in the room seemed to still and intensify until it shimmered with expectation. The hairs at the back of her neck stood up as she felt the scorching gaze of dark eyes drinking her in. Phillipa joined her, blinking as she held out a glass of sparkling water—not that she was looking at Gabriella. ‘Oh, wow, forget keeper husbands for a moment. Who on earth is that?’
Gabriella didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. She could feel his identity in her rapidly liquefying bones. She could feel it in her heated flesh and empty lungs.
He had come.
And then he was beside them, so broad, tall and