A Spanish Inheritance Page 2

  They were more optimistic than she was, Annalisa thought, glancing around the cobbled courtyard at the daunting tasks that still lay ahead of her. Her immediate impression of the main house had been of overwhelming neglect. She had found it so dark and still the first time she’d walked through the curtains of dust motes suspended in the musty air. But somehow that hadn’t put her off. And her determination had been rewarded.

  Traces of what must once have been a fine family home had soon become apparent in the quality of the furniture, as well as the interesting collection of cobweb-festooned paintings. And then she had been filled with the urge to breathe life into it again—to fling open the shutters, to clean out every corner and polish the windows until the whole place gleamed and vibrated with life.

  She didn’t rest until each room was filled with the scent of beeswax and soap and flowers… But the outbuildings remained in a desperate state.

  She closed her eyes briefly and drew a deep breath. Then, firming her lips, she opened them again. What she had started she would finish. So what if she had to learn to use a hammer and chisel? She had come a long way from her small solicitor’s office in an undistinguished town in the north of England. Here the sun warmed her face and it felt good. Winter was barely over, but in Menorca she could already detect the scent of blossom on the air.

  Having changed out of the delicious outfit into a pair of battered old shorts and a non-descript T-shirt, Annalisa headed down to the kitchen. Clearing a space on the rustic table, she prepared to write a brief letter of thanks to Señor and Señora Ramon di Crianza Perez. But even as she put pen to paper thoughts and impressions invaded her mind—and none of them was connected with the brief note she had planned. The truth was she was furious with herself. Somehow a married man had slipped beneath her guard, jolting something deep within her…something fundamental. Like an alarm going off in her heart, she acknowledged with dismay.

  But she had seen her mother left embittered and had no intention of being lured along the same path. It was a bleak trail that led to nothing more than empty lives and worthless promises. With an impatient huff she forced her attention back to the blank sheet of paper on the table in front of her.

  Willing the pen to move back and forth, she crafted the words that would convey her appreciation for the kindness of the Crianza Perez household and nothing more. Then, sealing the envelope, she propped it up next to the clock. She would post it on her next shopping trip to Mahon, the island’s capital, and perhaps find some small token in an attempt to appease her formidable neighbour. But first things first; her legal representative on the island would be appearing in a little under an hour.

  Taking a fresh sheet of paper, Annalisa began drawing up a list of subjects she wanted to discuss. It was only as she began framing the questions in her mind that a new possibility occurred to her…

  ‘But, Señorita Wilson, you do not have the money to make the improvements you have just outlined. Why do you not accept the generous offer that has been made for finca Fuego Montoya and buy something more suitable for yourself?’

  ‘I have decided not to sell.’

  ‘Not to sell!’

  Annalisa was certain the distinguished lawyer could not have looked more shocked if he’d tried. ‘And that is my final decision,’ she confirmed in a low, determined voice.

  ‘But, no!’ he insisted dramatically. ‘This is impossible. How will you—?’

  Annalisa could feel her patience evaporating. ‘Don Alfonso,’ she began firmly, ‘I have always worked for my living and that is exactly how I intend to continue.’

  ‘To work?’ the silver-haired lawyer exclaimed in horror with a shrug that encompassed the world. ‘But if you sell the finca, Señorita Wilson, you will never need to work again.’

  ‘But I want to work,’ Annalisa insisted stubbornly. ‘And forgive me, Don Alfonso, but I thought you worked for me.’

  ‘And so I do,’ he insisted hotly. ‘But it is my duty to tell you that if you were my daughter—’

  ‘I am no one’s daughter!’ Annalisa’s retorted sharply, regretting the words almost as soon as they shot out of her mouth.

  ‘I understand that your father is dead, Señorita Wilson,’ Don Alfonso reminded her solemnly.

  And always has been to me, Annalisa thought bitterly as she fought to re-order her thoughts. ‘I apologise, Don Alfonso,’ she said, composing herself. ‘Of course I will always be grateful to my father for entrusting me with the future of the finca.’ Even if he never acknowledged me in his lifetime, she added silently to herself. ‘I should not have raised my voice to you,’ she admitted candidly. ‘But you should know that I am quite determined to remain here. I intend to restore the house and all the ancillary buildings. Then I shall return the orange groves to a profitable working concern that will benefit everyone in the village.’

  ‘The orange groves!’ the elderly lawyer exclaimed in utter amazement. ‘But what do you know about fruit production? Forgive me, Señorita Wilson,’ he added, saving her the embarrassment of admitting the answer to that was nothing at all. ‘I mean no offence.’ Plucking a kingfisher-blue handkerchief out of his top pocket, he began dabbing away at imaginary moisture on his neck and high forehead, his concern all too evident.

  ‘None taken,’ Annalisa said evenly, wondering what on earth had prompted her insane proposition.

  ‘But even if you were to proceed against my advice you cannot possibly take on such a task alone,’ Don Alfonso insisted as he replaced the silk square in his pocket.

  ‘Why? Because I’m a woman?’

  He hesitated long enough for Annalisa to know she had struck a Latin nerve.

  ‘You do not have sufficient money,’ he insisted, bridging the controversial divide with sheer practicality.

  ‘I can do many of the jobs myself. I shall seek advice in the village…and I am not afraid of hard work.’

  ‘It is not the hard work that is my major concern—’

  ‘And I’ll find the money somehow.’

  Don Alfonso looked unconvinced as he shook his head. ‘I don’t doubt your good intentions, Señorita Wilson.’

  ‘Then what is your concern?’ Annalisa demanded.

  ‘The power and status of the family you have ranged yourself against may prove insurmountable,’ he explained patiently. ‘Please. Leave it a little while longer before you make a final decision to decline their generous offer.’

  ‘But I have no intention of accepting any offers. And I don’t need more time,’ Annalisa insisted. ‘My mind is made up, Don Alfonso.’

  ‘I beg you to reconsider—’

  ‘I cannot imagine why anyone could be so determined to buy up my land now when it has so clearly been neglected for years.’

  ‘It was in your father’s hands before he died,’ Don Alfonso reminded her. ‘No one knew why he insisted on hanging on to it. There were many offers during his lifetime—’

  ‘Which he refused?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘As I shall,’ she insisted, though quite where this sudden comradeship with the father who had abandoned her before she was born had come from she had no idea.

  ‘And nothing I can say will dissuade you from this course of action?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  Don Alfonso made a bemused sound and then murmured distractedly, ‘I cannot understand it…’

  ‘And I cannot understand why you are allowing yourself to be influenced by anyone’s interests other than mine.’

  He looked offended, and when he spoke again it was in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘We are talking about one of the most powerful families in all Spain, Señorita Wilson. Led by a man whom I should not wish to cross.’ He shook his head in a grave show of disapproval.

  Well, if that was meant to frighten her off it had missed its mark, Annalisa thought, firming her mouth. ‘You may feel the need to abide by this man’s dicta, Don Alfonso, I do not.’

  ‘You can have no idea of what you are taking
on.’

  ‘So, tell me,’ Annalisa challenged. ‘Put a name to my opponent. We’re not discussing some mythical villain, I presume?’

  Her elderly advisor bowed his head in dignified acquiescence. ‘No, Señorita Wilson. We are talking about an exceptional man with a mind like a steel trap and a will of iron. I fear you will find Ramon di Crianza Perez a most formidable adversary.’

  Annalisa’s wide mouth softened, images of sun-kissed flesh and rippling muscles uppermost in her mind.

  Misreading her expression, Don Alfonso warned, ‘It would be a mistake to underestimate Ramon Perez.’

  ‘He’s not such a monster,’ she reflected absently.

  ‘You know him!’

  ‘I have—’ Annalisa stopped, taking care over her choice of words. ‘I met Señor Perez briefly. He seemed perfectly civil—’

  The lawyer’s frown deepened. ‘Forgive me, Señorita Wilson, but you are a young lady in her mid-twenties with limited experience—’

  ‘I am a working woman with a law degree,’ Annalisa returned sharply.

  ‘You would be most unwise to take Ramon Perez lightly.’

  I would be most unwise to take him at all, she reminded herself wryly. Apart from the knowledge that she would be playing well out of her league, Ramon Perez was a married man. ‘I shall treat Señor Crianza Perez exactly as I would treat anyone else,’ she said confidently.

  Don Alfonso shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that may not prove an effective tactic in this case.’

  ‘Well, we will just have to find a way to make Señor Perez understand that finca Fuego Montoya is not up for sale, Don Alfonso. This is my home,’ she said with a sweeping gesture. ‘And I intend to stay here for the rest of my life.’

  The lawyer sucked in a deep breath as he flagged up his defeat with his hands. ‘So be it, Señorita Wilson. If those are your instructions—’

  ‘They are, Don Alfonso,’ Annalisa said firmly.

  She was out in the yard when the low-slung black car screamed to a halt. Tossing back her wrist-thick ebony plait, Annalisa wiped her arm across her face as she waited for the dust cloud to settle. When she saw who was coming towards her she tensed. What on earth was Ramon Perez doing here? And why had she decided today of all days to emulate the local women by tucking her lightweight cotton skirt into her underwear while she worked?

  Her mind revolved like a Catherine wheel, throwing off excuses…the hen hutches needed repairing…her shorts were drying on the line…

  ‘Buenos días, señorita!’ Ramon called out as he strode towards her, swiping the thick coating of limestone dust off his close-fitting jeans.

  As he drew nearer she could see his sensuous mouth beginning to curve in the suspicion of a grin. And then he scanned her from head to foot.

  ‘I like your outfit,’ he commented approvingly.

  Damn! Damn! Damn! Annalisa thought, wrenching her skirt free.

  This was not the sort of meeting she had anticipated! She had instructed Don Alfonso to arrange something very different. Something cool and collected in the centre of town. In his shady, peaceful office—wearing suits, for goodness’ sake!

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, hoping there was enough of a casual note in her voice to fool Ramon into believing she was as composed as he was. She smoothed the crumpled fabric to a modest length around her calves and plucked at the low-cut cotton top that had once been white. ‘I bought it in the village.’

  ‘I would never have guessed,’ he murmured, turning away to study the various outbuildings before she had a chance to gauge his expression.

  Even when the attention of those dark and disturbing eyes was deflected he had presence to spare, Annalisa thought, wishing she could relax.

  ‘You have plenty of work ahead of you,’ he called back to her. ‘These barns don’t look too safe. You mustn’t think of housing animals.’

  ‘I have no intention of doing so.’ She wished she could keep the edginess out of her voice. But the sight of those strong tanned hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans—

  He fielded her peppery response with a laconic, ‘Forgive me, Annalisa. I am sure you will take every precaution. I did not mean to challenge your intentions.’

  But his eyes said otherwise. They were watchful and amused as he turned to face her while he raked his thick black hair into order.

  ‘That’s OK,’ Annalisa lied, knowing her pale skin betrayed her feelings at the most inappropriate moments. ‘So, why are you here, Señor Perez?’

  A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’ When she didn’t answer, he explained, ‘To see you, of course.’

  ‘Me?’ He was viewing her discomfort with a worrying degree of interest, she thought.

  He gave a brief nod. ‘Don Alfonso came to see me on your behalf…to arrange a meeting. To discuss water rights.’

  Annalisa tensed. He didn’t need to say any more. The water was her Achilles’ heel. If she was going to restore the orange groves, the closest source of fresh water ran across Ramon’s land. ‘In town. In his office,’ she agreed quickly. ‘Not here.’

  ‘Why not here?’

  She squared her shoulders, as if signalling her refusal to be drawn into a debate out of the hearing of her lawyer. ‘What have you really come for, Señor Perez?’

  Ramon dipped his head to bait her with his compelling stare. ‘To make sure you got home safely.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Annalisa said awkwardly, realising she should have said something sooner. ‘I can’t thank you and Margarita enough—’

  He brushed off her gratitude with a gesture. ‘And to return this,’ he said, uncurling one large fist to reveal her tiny bikini.

  A sharp sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan escaped her lips as she stepped forward to take it from him. But as one looping bra strap fell over her fingers, he reeled her in with a snap of his wrist. For a long moment they both stood motionless. Then at last he murmured, ‘Do you like playing games with me, Annalisa?’

  Every tiny hair on her body stood erect as his warm breath caressed her senses. She had no way of seeing the expression on his face. At that moment her eyes were level with the third button down on his shirt. Was he talking about the water rights…the sale of the finca? Or something else…something on a far more personal level? That possibility made her shake her head emphatically as she struggled to remain immune to the very masculine heat coming from him. It was a heat with very different properties from the scorching midday sun. It was a heat that beat at her senses with unrelenting purpose…

  ‘Would you like to?’ he growled, so close to her ear that she shivered involuntarily. And then, as if he had received the answer he was looking for, he laughed as if it was indeed just a game to him and let her go.

  ‘I think it’s you who is playing games,’ Annalisa declared, struggling to hide the fact that she was very shaken indeed. ‘But thank you anyway for returning my—’

  ‘I was curious to see for myself the condition of the estate,’ Ramon broke in, as if nothing unusual had passed between them.

  How could he change pace as smoothly as that? Annalisa wondered, fighting for equilibrium as he moved away from her to stroll around the yard.

  If Don Alfonso had wanted to remind her that Ramon Perez was unlike any other man she had ever met, he could not have orchestrated a better demonstration! And the fact that Ramon was forbidden fruit failed to stop her heart from careering around her chest—whilst apparently he was able to remain detached and totally in control.

  Her mouth firmed into a determined line as she weighed him up. Just acknowledging the attraction she felt for him was enough to make her feel guilty. But guilt was an emotion that seemed to have bypassed Ramon Perez completely. To hell with gratitude! This was power play at its most refined. It was time to sharpen up her game and get her mind back in gear. The way he was prowling around her yard proved that this visit was nothing more than an excuse to take stock…to weigh up the opposition.
But at least this was the sort of predator she could understand…and deal with. All Ramon Perez cared about was gauging how little he would need to pay to take the finca off her hands!

  ‘Have you seen everything you came for now?’ Annalisa demanded.

  ‘For now,’ he agreed. ‘And I’m glad I came—’

  ‘To evaluate the competition?’ she supplied tersely.

  He allowed the silence to hang between them for a few moments, and when he did speak his voice sounded mildly bemused. ‘Competition, Annalisa?’

  The challenge pierced her defences, releasing a flood of sensation into her tense frame. Too late to bite off her tongue! The damage was done. She had to tread a lot more carefully. Know your enemy… Don’t reveal all your cards at once… As far as Ramon knew, she was just some small-town girl getting in his way…an easy target. Far better to leave it like that than to give him any advance warning of her plans…

  Her plans? Annalisa’s glance swept the ground as Ramon continued to study her. She had plenty of dreams…but no plans…not yet. They couldn’t be formulated until she knew exactly what it would take to launch the orange groves as a commercial venture. The only thing she was sure about was that nothing could be accomplished without the fresh water that ran across Ramon’s land.

  Suddenly the enormity of the task she was taking on hit her square in the chest. The last thing she needed was to alert Ramon to the fact that everything hinged on him—or that where fruit production was concerned she was a complete novice. To have the slightest hope of allaying his suspicions she had to show more self-assurance, put everything back on a business footing—broach the subject of his water when his guard was down.

  ‘Won’t you come inside for a cooling drink?’ she suggested briskly, heading off towards the house. But her heart was beating so hard she felt sure he would hear it. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow. Self-assurance was all very well in theory!