THE TERMS OF his grandfather’s last will and testament had shocked everyone but Tiago Santos, to whom they had come as no surprise. To inherit he must marry. It was that simple. If he did not marry within a specific timeframe the ranch he loved in Brazil, and had built up into a world-class concern, would be handed over to a board of trustees who didn’t know one end of a horse from the other.

His grandfather had suffered from delusions of grandeur, Tiago recalled as he prepared to land the jet he had piloted from Brazil to the wedding of his best friend, Chico, in Scotland. Tiago must give up his freedom to marry in order to preserve the Santos name, which his grandfather had believed was more important than the individuals who bore that name.

‘The name Santos must not die out,’ his grandfather had stated on his deathbed. ‘It is time for you to find a wife, Tiago. If you don’t provide an heir, our family will disappear without a trace.’

‘And if I marry and we’re not lucky enough to have a child?’

‘You will adopt,’ the old man had said, as if a child could be so easily co-opted into his plan. ‘If you refuse me this you will lose everything you have worked so hard to rebuild.’

‘And the families who have lived on Fazenda Santos for generations? Would you disinherit them too?’

‘Your bleeding heart is wasted on me, Tiago. Do you think I care what happens when I’m dead? My legacy must live on. Don’t look at me like that,’ his grandfather

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