A Diamond For Del Rio's Housekeeper. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.
He was almost glad now that fate had intervened for Rosie Clifton. He would have had to be a heartless monster not to.
A visit to the orphanage by the royal patron of one of the charities he sponsored had led to Rosie being singled out. The prince had told Xavier that this particular girl had caught his attention because of her calm and resilient manner. He wondered now if Rosie’s luminous appearance had attracted the prince’s attention. That, and her obvious innocence. When the prince had first mentioned Rosie, he had thought immediately of his aunt and the possibility that a young girl might succeed where so many older, professional carers had failed. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Rosie Clifton would be quite so successful. He searched now for guile beneath the frankness of her stare, and found none. ‘Do you swim on your own in the sea?’
‘Why not?’ she countered pertly. ‘You did.’
When she cocked her head to issue the challenge, she somehow managed to look more appealing than ever. It was time to rein in his feelings before they started to cloud his judgement. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ he said, turning stern. ‘What if you got into trouble in the water?’
‘I can get into trouble on the land just as easily,’ she said.
As she masked her smile it was hard not to like her, which was everything he had vowed not to do. When she shrugged, drawing his attention to the womanly frame beneath the tightly bound towel, and to her slender shoulders with their sprinkling of freckles like gold dust on her skin, he knew he was in trouble.
‘One thing I learned as a child,’ she added frankly, ‘was how to keep my head above water.’
‘I have no doubt of that,’ he agreed as she tossed her hair back, sending the glistening waves cascading in a fiery cloud almost to her waist. ‘But you’re taking a big risk with your safety,’ he warned.
‘It’s not such a big deal if you know the seas around the island, is it, Don Xavier...?’
‘Touché,’ he murmured to himself. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted. ‘I swam here many times as a boy, but that doesn’t make it safe for you.’
‘Are you saying you’re a better swimmer than I am?’ There was both challenge and humour in her eyes now.
‘Enough!’ he insisted, knowing it was time to end this before she won him over completely. ‘Allow me to introduce myself formally. Don Xavier Del Rio, at your service...’
‘I doubt that somehow.’ She laughed. ‘And I don’t want you to be at my service. But I am pleased to formally meet you at last,’ she teased him. ‘Perhaps we can start over?’ She suggested this hopefully, extending a hand for him to shake. ‘Rosie Clifton,’ she declared, ‘at no one’s service.’
He laughed. ‘There’s never been the slightest doubt of that.’
As he brushed his lips against the back of her hand he felt her tremble. When he let her go, she quickly put her hands behind her back, as if to keep them out of mischief. She wasn’t so good at hiding her feelings, after all. He didn’t intimidate her. She didn’t feel particularly antagonistic towards him. She was naturally wary and inquisitive, but when he touched her, she was aroused. He wondered what new discoveries he would make about Rosie Clifton. Compliance must have been her best defence at the orphanage, and she would have had to be accommodating to keep her job with his aunt. She must have worked out by now that half an island was of no use to either of them, and he was curious as to where she thought they’d go from here. ‘What do you know about me, Rosie?’
‘Probably as much as you know about me,’ she said frankly. ‘I know you by reputation, of course. Who doesn’t? But as that’s only hearsay and I like to draw my own conclusions about people, I’m keeping an open mind right now.’
‘Should I thank you for that?’
‘Do as you like,’ she said easily. ‘I do know that everything you’ve achieved in life, you’ve done without anyone’s help. Doña Anna told me that too,’ she explained, unintentionally twisting the knife in the wound she’d inadvertently opened. He’d had enough of this. She was getting under his skin, making him feel too much. He couldn’t have that. ‘But that doesn’t tell me who you are, or if I can trust you—’
He sidestepped her and made for the house.
‘Hey!’ She chased after him as he headed for the cliff path. And, Dios, now she was standing in front of him.
‘Get out of my way, please,’ he instructed quietly.
‘No.’ Folding her arms, she said loud and clear, ‘You’re not going a step further. I told you already, it’s not convenient for you to visit the house.’
He could swing her over his shoulder and carry her there, but that would lead to nowhere good for Rosie Clifton, and maybe life had beat up on her enough. She was far too young and too innocent for him, with his sophisticated tastes in the bedroom. She featured nowhere on his agenda, other than to buy her off.
‘I said no,’ she warned again, when he went to move past her.
He stopped. She amused him. Her lips might be kissable, but they were currently set in such a firm, determined line. And now another question occurred to him: Was Rosie Clifton really as innocent as she looked? Had she been swept along by circumstances beyond her control, or was she a consummate actress who had managed to fool his aunt? Tricksters didn’t tend to have swindler tattooed on their brow. Either way, he would deal with Ms Clifton. If nothing more than good fortune and happy fate shone on Rosie Clifton, then a financial settlement to make her eyes water would soon get rid of her. If she was an idealist who believed she was saving the island from a ruthless playboy entrepreneur, namely him, then his cantankerous aunt had indeed met her match, and there would be trouble ahead—but not for him.
‘If you don’t get out of my way, I shall have to move you.’
Just the thought of taking that lithe, rebellious body in his arms was enough to whip his senses into an agony of lust, but she just laughed. ‘I’d like to see you try,’ she said.
He held up his hands, palms flat. He could wait. Except for the issue of the heir—he held all the cards and she held none. She couldn’t fight him through the courts. She lacked the money to do so. She was at his mercy. Even if he failed to produce an heir and his half reverted to her, she’d never have the money to continue to manage the island. Whichever way she turned, there was no future for Rosie Clifton on the island. The only fight she could put up was with words. They both knew the outcome was inevitable. He would own one hundred per cent of Isla Del Rey. It was just a matter of time. But there was no mileage in making her miserable.
‘Try to be reasonable,’ he suggested. ‘It’s important that I see the house as soon as possible to make an initial assessment of the changes that need to be made.’
‘What changes?’ she retorted. ‘The hacienda is perfectly serviceable as it stands.’
Rosie doubted anything had been refurbished or rearranged since the man who was making her body yearn for things it could hardly imagine had lived there as a boy. She had always thought the old house perfect. It wore the patina of age and regular use with such comfortable ease, reflecting everything that was cosy and special about the home Doña Anna had made for them both. What right did he have to come storming in, talking about change?
‘The sooner the better,’ he repeated, in what she gathered was his best attempt at a pleasant tone. He failed to charm her.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ she stated firmly.
He moved past her, but she caught up with him again. If it was possible for a man to grow taller and become more intimidating, he’d just done that.
‘You can’t keep me away for ever.’ His stern eyes heated every part of her, and, instead of resenting him, she found to her bemusement that she was excited. ‘Or had you forgotten I also own fifty per cent of this island?’ he demanded.
‘I