Fierce Love Read online

  Ana came outside carrying the video camera. “Just sit still and give me a minute to practice.”

  Fox sat up, suddenly fully alert. Maggie looked away. Ana was amazingly limber and coiled herself around a porch post to steady the camera. “If I brace myself on the top rail of the ring, I should be able to get footage that doesn’t look as though it was taken at sea.”

  Fox left with her while Maggie had to swallow hard not to get sick. Would Rafael expect his son to follow him into a bullring? When he came out on the porch, she was still too shaken to look up at him.

  “I know you don’t want to watch, but this won’t take long and we’ll go.”

  She managed a distracted nod, and he walked around the house to the ring, carrying his folded cape. She went into the house to replace the album on its shelf in the den and feeling lost, went for a walk down the road toward the highway. There had to be moments, the first time she’d seen her father’s photograph, that would remain with her forever. This was another one, when she’d realized exactly where her relationship with Rafael Mondragon might lead. To make matters worse, any son they had would have the Aragon tradition in the bullring as well as his father’s. It was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

  Rafael would only laugh if she refused to keep seeing him because if they ever had a son, she couldn’t bear for him to become a matador too. He’d argue they might not produce any children, or have only girls, who seldom wanted to fight bulls. They might have half a dozen sons who’d choose to become teachers, lawyers, architects or any number of worthwhile professions. She stopped to bend over and rested her hands on her knees. She was borrowing trouble that might never come, but she might be wiser still to avoid all possibility of it. She breathed deeply to stave off a full-blown panic attack and waited several minutes before straightening up.

  She retraced her steps to the house chanting a mantra: “I’ll soon be home. I’ll soon be home.” She sat on the porch steps until she finally gathered the courage to peek around the corner. The ranch hands circling the bullring were shouting encouragement, so clearly things were going well for Rafael. She wanted only good things for him too, but she wouldn’t sacrifice her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rafael found Maggie on the front porch leaning back against the house. “What are you doing?”

  She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Absolutely nothing. How did it go?”

  “I thought it went well. Santos called me a clown.”

  “He didn’t!”

  “He did.” He tucked his cape under his arm and brushed the dust off his clothes and out of his hair. “Let’s see what Refugio has for breakfast before we go.”

  Maggie could tolerate only a slice of the fresh cinnamon bread and a cup of tea while Rafael ate his fill of bacon and eggs. She didn’t understand how he could walk out of a bullring hungry rather than nauseous. Fox joined them and ate almost as much as Rafael. “What happened to Ana and Santos?” she asked.

  “They’re out front by her car,” Fox replied.

  “Who has the camera?” Rafael asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Excuse me.” Rafael rose and headed outside.

  Maggie looked at Fox. “We don’t want to miss this.”

  He beat her to the door. Ana was leaning against her Porsche, her arms crossed over her chest and speaking in too low a voice to be overheard. Santos stood back, scowling. He heard Rafael open the door and glanced toward him. “Why don’t you take the camera; then I won’t be blamed if it goes missing between here and home.”

  Maggie quickly circled Rafael. “Why would it go missing?”

  Santos shrugged. “It’s an expensive camera. It might be stolen.”

  Maggie took the camera from her brother. “Only by someone who didn’t want Rafael to prove he’s ready for Sunday.” Grateful she hadn’t been forced to watch them fight a bull that morning, she laid the camera on the backseat of Rafael’s Mercedes. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll get our bags,” Rafael replied. He went into the house without speaking to Santos.

  “Are you coming with me, Fox?” Santos asked.

  Fox sent Ana a questioning glance, but she shook her head. “Sorry, I have an appointment and can’t take you with me.”

  “I’ll go with Santos, then,” Fox said, and he followed Rafael up the stairs to get his duffle bag.

  “Santos, will you bring my bag down with yours?” Ana asked.

  “I’ll throw it off the balcony.” Santos entered the house and left the door standing open.

  Ana laughed. “He’s teasing. You needn’t worry, though. The video will show Rafael knows more than enough to satisfy Miguel.”

  “That’s exactly what does worry me,” Maggie replied.

  Ana stepped close. “Spanish men do what they wish. Don’t ever try and stop them. Stupid women force them to choose, then weep when they’re not their man’s choice. You don’t strike me as being stupid, though.”

  “No, I’m generally considered too smart for my own good. If I don’t see you before I fly home, thank you again for buying such a beautiful dress and shoes for me.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll get the photos to you before you leave.”

  “Thank you. They’ll make perfect souvenirs.” Maggie went in to thank Mrs. Lujan and Refugio for making her feel so welcome.

  “I hope you’ll come back soon,” the housekeeper stressed. “You have been in our thoughts and prayers all these years, and it took much too long to meet you.”

  “I came the first time I was invited.” A worried glance passed between the housekeeper and cook, but she didn’t regret telling the truth. After all, they knew her father better than she did and couldn’t have been all that surprised by her remark.

  She waited for Rafael at the bottom of the stairs, and they walked together to his car. After he’d put her bag in the trunk, she draped her new dress over it and took her seat in the Mercedes. “I’m glad you came here with me.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and then grew puzzled. “Were you going to come here without me?”

  He was smiling as though the thought were absurd, and she let him think so. “It wouldn’t have been nearly as nice a trip without you.”

  “Last night I got six stars, and today I’m only nice?” He turned the car in a wide arc to head out on the road.

  She looked out her window. “You’re excellent company in or out of bed. Is that better?”

  “I prefer excellent to nice. It should rate at least four stars. ”

  “At least.” She tried to stay awake but was soon yawning and closed her eyes. She had only a few more days with him, and if she gave in to her fears, she’d miss those. He’d gone way past a mere fling with her, and she wondered if he would say the same about her. Like many of her questions, it remained unasked.

  Miguel was playing cards with his nurse when Maggie rapped lightly on his bedroom door. He appeared delighted to see them. “You’re back, and you have the camera. Open the cabinet opposite the bed, and you’ll find whatever you need.”

  The petite blonde nurse picked up the cards, returned them to their box and remained seated at the small table. She folded her hands in her lap, eager to watch it too.

  Rafael opened the cabinet and turned to Maggie. “Do you know how to do this?”

  “No, maybe we should wait for Santos.”

  Miguel left his chair, and while holding onto a bedpost for support, explained exactly what to do. “Do not be embarrassed. I make little effort to keep up with technology myself.” He went on around the bed, sat down and adjusted his pillows. “When did you film this?”

  “This morning,” Rafael replied.

  Ana had scenes of the bullring, the bull and the ranch hands. For a woman with no experience with that camera, she handled the transitions smoothly. Then Rafael entered the ring, and Maggie couldn’t bear to look. She’d thought she could watch, but even after Rafael had taken her hand, it was too much for her. The sound was
good and included the snorting bull as well as the men’s enthusiastic shouts. She was certain Rafael had to be good but stared at the floor until the end of the tape.

  “Play it again,” her father asked.

  Maggie slipped her hand from Rafael’s and joined the nurse at the table. “I’m Fernanda,” the nurse whispered. Her eyes glowed with excitement. “He’s very good, isn’t he?”

  “Incredibly good,” Maggie assured her, without any personal evidence at all.

  This time when the tape ended, Miguel remained silent a long moment. “You’re relying on your strength,” he cautioned. “But no one expects you to grab the bull by the tail and hurl him out of the arena.”

  “Strength is an asset,” Rafael argued through clenched teeth.

  “Yes,” Miguel agreed thoughtfully. “So is artistry, but let’s not quibble. You’re the equal of many matadors fighting today, which isn’t difficult. I’ll have your name added to Sunday’s program for your Alternativa and arrange for good men to work with you.”

  “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “I’m sure I won’t. You must forgive me if I’m unable to attend in person, but I’ll watch here. Now I need to rest. Come back to see me tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  The nurse left, and Rafael pulled Maggie out the door and into his arms. “I would have argued all afternoon until he gave in. I wouldn’t do this if I had any doubts, but I’ve worked hard for this chance.”

  He had such a handsome smile, and he needed her to share in his excitement. All she really felt was dread, and she produced only a shaky smile. “I know you’ll do well.”

  They were still standing outside Miguel’s room when Santos and Fox ran up the back stairs. “What did he say?” Santos asked.

  “I wouldn’t embellish it,” Maggie whispered.

  Rafael didn’t need to, but his smile grew wide. “I’ll see you in the ring on Sunday.”

  Astonished, Santos looked ready to spit. “You’re lying.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Maggie assured him. “Father’s setting up the Alternativa as promised.”

  Not convinced, Santos went into his father’s room and Fox followed. “I don’t mean to disturb you if you’re resting.”

  “You already have,” Miguel responded, resigned to the interruption.

  Santos rested his fists on his hips. “I can’t believe you’d allow Mondragon to fight on Sunday.”

  Miguel yawned. “It was arranged before you left for the ranch.”

  “What? Then why did you send us there?”

  “I wanted Magdalena to see it. It’s also wonderfully peaceful here when you’re all away. Forget about Mondragon and concentrate on yourself. You need to train. The best are always fully prepared, and you rightfully belong among them.”

  “But Mondragon doesn’t. What are you trying to do, get him killed?”

  “Would that be any great loss to the world?”

  Shaken by that heartless response, Santos waited for his father to take it back, but Miguel closed his eyes to dismiss them. Santos hurried Fox out of the room.

  “That was cold,” Fox observed.

  “Maybe he’s just tired of hearing me complain about Mondragon. I’m going to the gym. Do you want to come along?”

  “And get all sweaty lifting weights? No thanks.”

  “It’s the best place to meet girls.”

  Fox shrugged. “In that case, I’ll make the sacrifice.”

  They met Maggie coming up the stairs with her bag. Her new red dress was slung over her arm. “Where’s Mondragon?” Santos asked.

  “He’s gone home. He needs to concentrate on being ready for Sunday, without my being a distraction.”

  Santos took her bag and carried it to her room. “He must have left at a run. Now you can see I was right, can’t you? All he wanted was to schedule his Alternativa. I’ll bet you won’t see him again.”

  Rafael had been so excited by her father’s endorsement she hadn’t questioned his haste to leave. “He’ll come by in the morning, and I’ll see him then.”

  “He’ll run out of here again. Don’t blink.”

  “How are things going for you and Ana?” she countered.

  “I really don’t care.” He pulled her door closed on his way out.

  She’d known what Santos thought of Rafael from the beginning, but his continued sarcastic dismissal of him hurt. Rafael had always seemed sincere to her, and if he hadn’t been, then he truly was as polished an actor as Javier Bardem. When she hated to consider her own motives, she refused to analyze Rafael’s. Santos could think whatever he chose to; it wouldn’t change how she felt about Rafael.

  She unpacked her bag and found her white lace bra, but the matching panties were missing. She was sure she’d packed them together. She searched through the whole bag, but the panties were gone. She wondered if Rafael had kept them for a souvenir. The thought made her laugh. Knights used to keep scarves from their ladies. Maybe matadors kept their girlfriend’s panties in a pocket. If a suit of lights had a pocket.

  Her purse muffled the sound of her cell phone, and she could have pretended not to hear it, but if it was Craig, and she was fairly certain it was, he’d just keep calling.

  “Hello.”

  “What’s you flight number? I want to meet your plane on Sunday.”

  “Thank you, but I’m staying a few extra days.”

  “That’s not good news. There isn’t really a bullfighter, is there?”

  She walked out on her balcony. She wouldn’t even attempt to describe Rafael, but she smiled as she thought of him. “Yes, my father’s protégé.”

  “Young women who’ve grown up with an absent father often pursue unavailable men. You know the pattern. I hope you haven’t fallen for a man who’s exactly like your father.”

  He was an expert on relationships, but she was tired of his self-serving advice. “Do you mean an egotistical bastard who can’t keep track of his children?”

  “That’s rather harsh. Just be careful, Maggie.”

  It was a glorious afternoon, and she was anxious to go down to the beach. “Make up your mind, Craig. You advised me to become more open to love.”

  “Well, yes, but not with a matador, or a rock musician, or a movie star!”

  She had to laugh. “Perhaps a dentist? I’ll send you a postcard.”

  She ended the call and hoped it would be the last time she heard from Craig. He was a nice guy, the responsible sort mothers always wanted their daughters to marry, but he was wrong man for her. Her fierce attraction to Rafael proved it.

  She picked up the book she’d read on the plane and went out to the beach through the door behind the main staircase. It opened smoothly now. She moved one of the patio chairs out onto a shady patch of sand and skimmed through the last fourth of her book. It was an entertaining urban fantasy, a light-hearted story and perfect vacation reading. It was precisely what she needed to keep from thinking past the next fifteen minutes.

  Thursday morning, she woke up early, took her time getting dressed and truly expected to find Rafael waiting for her on the patio, but he wasn’t there. Confident he would soon arrive, she went upstairs to eat breakfast with her father. He welcomed her and picked at a muffin while she ate fruit.

  “What did you think of the ranch?” he asked.

  “It’s the first time I’ve visited one. It’s a beautiful house, and—”

  Her grandmother knocked as she entered the room without waiting for an invitation. She waved a tabloid and threw it down on the table. “Tomas just showed me this. Your daughter is consorting with Gypsies, and I refuse to have our family suffer this tawdry disgrace!”

  The paper lay open to reveal a large photograph of Maggie and Rafael dancing at the ranch. It was one of Ana’s best shots. Santos could be seen scowling in the background.

  Her father picked it up and provided a softened translation of the headline. “The reporter is convinced Rafael and Santos
will take their fight over you into the bullring.”

  “That’s absurd. He’s my brother,” Maggie exclaimed.

  “Yes, that’s what makes the scandal.” He handed the tabloid back to his mother. “The only one disgraced by this story is the reporter, Mama. Tell Tomas not to bring this trash into the house.”

  “Someone must call the editor,” an indignant Carmen insisted.

  “We do not respond to lies,” Miguel replied.

  “The Gypsy is her lover. That’s no lie.”

  “Mama, that’s no business of yours.”

  Carmen stared at Maggie, waiting for her to respond, but she continued eating her melon and berries. “Puta,” she mouthed and marched out.

  Her grandmother had just called her a whore, but Maggie hadn’t felt welcome in her father’s home in the first place. She held her breath, but her father hadn’t caught the insult. He hadn’t asked who’d taken the photograph and sold it to the tabloid, nor had he inquired as to who had shot the video yesterday. Apparently the subject didn’t interest him. She sat back in her chair.

  “Your mother’s a difficult woman.”

  “Ignore her. Now, where is your Gypsy?”

  “He should be along soon.”

  Antonio Moreno knocked at the door and peeked in. Maggie got up to leave. She exchanged a brief greeting with the physician, and Fox caught her out in the hall.

  “Did you see this?” He waved the tabloid.

  Maggie nodded. “Yes. I didn’t think Ana was too pleased with Santos when we left the ranch, but I’m still surprised she sold our photo.”

  He opened the paper and shook the pages into place. “There’s one of me out at the ring. I don’t know what it says.”

  Maggie gripped the edge of the paper to hold it still. “You’re supposedly collecting bets from the ranch hands.” There was a photo of Rafael in a classic matador’s bowed stance. “That’s another lie like the one on the front page that claims Rafael and Santos are battling over me. I understand there’s a great deal of money to be made selling photos to tabloids, but why would Ana make up such ridiculous stories?”