Fierce Love Page 8

  “I’ll ask to see them.” She wanted to discover whatever she could about her father’s side of the family. Carmen was such a caustic person, Maggie’s sympathies were already with Augustín. If he’d written a memoir, she definitely wanted to read it. She swallowed the last berry on her plate and licked her lips. Perhaps it was the sea air, but everything tasted delicious here.

  “What else would you like to know?”

  She sat back in her chair and grabbed what might be her only chance to ask about Rafael. She told him they’d danced together. “What do you think of him?”

  Miguel leaned close to take her hand. “He’s a promising talent but doesn’t take criticism well. He could be among the greatest or never move past the remarkably good. He has the ambition, and it’s a shame he didn’t work with me when he was younger. Now, what do you think of him?”

  She squeezed his hand. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  His smile turned sly. “You must feel something or you wouldn’t have asked about him.”

  The ocean’s rumbling melody in the distance made the conversation no easier. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, but I should probably avoid him.”

  He laughed. “I’ve avoided few tempting women, so you don’t take after me. Antonio should be here soon. Why don’t you find Cirilda and ask for the photos you’d like to see?”

  She kissed his cheek, noted his marvelous scent and feared Rafael Mondragon would be very difficult to avoid. She’d left her bed a pile of twisted sheets as ordered, but when she stopped by her room, the maid had already been there, and the bed was neatly made. She was used to a busy schedule with teaching. Having no plan for the day left her at loose ends. There were the photos or dance lessons for the twins; she could walk on the beach, read the books she’d brought along, but nothing struck her as urgent.

  After last night’s brief exchange, she’d prefer to wait and speak to Cirilda at mealtimes rather than seek her out. She was too restless to remain indoors, and a different nurse than the one she’d seen on Saturday passed by her as she left her room. Perhaps they rotated often. Maggie wondered if they were really needed. They would be ready to serve in a medical emergency, but she dreaded one happening while she was there. She’d arrived thinking poorly of her father, but the real man was far more appealing than the one she’d created in her mind. He seemed resigned to his illness. If only he’d fight for his life rather than let it gradually slip away.

  As she left the house, Rafael stood where he’d waited for her the previous day. His T-shirt and jeans showed off his trim build better than the looser dress clothes he’d worn last night for dancing, and she could have stood there and looked at him all day and not grown bored. His slow smile brought a warmth that swept from her toes and ended as a bright blush. Embarrassed by how strongly she reacted to him, she pretended only a mild surprise. “Are you here every morning?”

  He shook his head, took her hand and led her toward the water. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t expect you to defend me. No one ever has. I should have thanked you, even if your help wasn’t needed.”

  “Maybe I meant to protect Santos.”

  “Then I misunderstood.”

  “No, but I’d have blamed myself if you’d been hurt.”

  “Santos doesn’t like me,” he countered. “I’m used to it, and he couldn’t hurt me with a half-dozen friends at his side.”

  She should have known he had too high an opinion of himself to be worried. “You provoke each other, but enough of Santos. What do you know about my grandfather? Was he as famous a matador as his son?”

  “Yes. Augustín Aragon was among the greats. He was reclusive; is that the word? He’d appear for a fight, then return to his ranch and remain there until the next time he entered a bullring. People were curious about him, fascinated. I suppose they still are. I’ve always wanted to see your family’s ranch. Take me with you if your father sends you there.”

  His real interest was all too clear, and her heart fell. “That’s unlikely.”

  “What, that you’d take me?”

  “No, that my father would send me there.” She pulled her hand free and turned to look up at him. “My father likes you, and that ought to be enough. You can’t count on me to do more.”

  They’d reached the edge of the shore, and he glanced away. “You’re the one I want.”

  His words blew away in the sea breeze, but she’d understood him. When he looked back toward her, she nodded. “Fine, but I’m planning to fly home on Sunday.”

  “Then I have nearly a week to convince you to stay.”

  His lazy smile made it plain he thought it an easy matter. The man never lacked for confidence. It made him a superb dancer and undoubtedly served him well in the bullring, but she didn’t want to be seen as a challenge to be overcome. She wanted him to be sincere, then again, she wasn’t being all that truthful herself. That was Craig’s complaint, that she hid more than she ever showed. She raised her hand to shade her eyes and searched the beach for the twins. “Do you see the girls?”

  “Let’s look for them. Which way do you want to go?”

  She chose the way they’d taken yesterday. “I don’t suppose they could have gotten lost.”

  “No, they won’t walk that far, but I worry about them.”

  “So do I. Independence is a wonderful trait, but someone ought to be setting limits for them.”

  “You could if you stayed.”

  His knowing smile made her laugh. “They have a mother who ought to be doing so. Have you heard Marina sing?”

  “No, I’ve never been to an opera.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “Never?”

  “No, never, so I’ve missed seeing Marina perform.” She didn’t repeat Santos’s description of her talent, or lack thereof. “Is that the twins just ahead?”

  “Yes, we found them too soon.”

  There were standing with three young men who were clearly too old for them. “I don’t think so.” She hurried Rafael to reach them. “I’ve been looking for you for our dance lessons.”

  Perry introduced their companions as Carlos, Juan and Javier. “Carlos wants to take us sailing.”

  Carlos was the tallest of the trio, but he still had to look up at Rafael. “You can come along if you like.”

  “Thank you, but no,” Rafael responded.

  “Definitely no,” Maggie echoed. “Let’s go home.”

  “Wait a minute,” Javier asked. “Are you Rafael Mondragon?”

  “I am.”

  “I heard you set Mexico City on fire. When are you going to fight here in Barcelona?”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “On fire?” Connie giggled, and she and Perry ran down the beach betraying their youth in every step.

  Maggie paused to whisper to Carlos. “The twins are only thirteen, and if I see you with them again, I’ll have you arrested.”

  His mouth fell agape, but he nodded, and he and his friends jogged away.

  She reached for Rafael’s hand as they followed the twins. “Miguel is too sick to scold them; Grandmother and Cirilda don’t care. I hate to tell Santos they’re roaming the beach looking for trouble.”

  “I think they found it.”

  So have I, she thought to herself, but she hadn’t meant to remind Rafael of his sister. It was one thing for a Spaniard to be protective of his family and another for him to resort to murder.

  “It sounds as through news of your popularity in Mexico is common knowledge here.”

  “I didn’t spread it.”

  “I didn’t say you had, but with satellite TV and the Internet, sports fans can follow anyone or team they choose.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “At least they aren’t following me here.”

  When they reached the house, Maggie recognized Vida Ramos from the documentary the twins had shown, and while Maria Luisa and Enrique were nearly grown, they were easily recognizable too. The three were standing on the patio, arguing quie
tly. They moved aside to allow the twins to enter the house but didn’t glance toward Maggie and Rafael.

  Maggie thought she ought to introduce herself, but Rafael backed away. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised softly and crossed the sand alone.

  Maggie waited for Vida to stop for a breath and stepped forward to introduce herself. Maria was dark-haired and dark-eyed and shared Maggie’s resemblance to their father. They could easily be recognized as sisters, but Enrique had sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. He swept her with a dismissive glance.

  “The American,” he exclaimed. “Come on, Maria, let’s get this visit over with.” Maria smiled shyly and followed him into the house.

  Vida ripped a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes, taking care not to dislodge her false eyelashes. “Is Miguel summoning his children from the far reaches of the earth?”

  “You could say that,” Maggie agreed. “Don’t you want to see him?”

  Vida shoved her long, curly blonde hair out of her eyes to look up at Maggie. She was lovely, on the cusp of forty with big blue eyes and creamy smooth skin. “I’ll speak to him later.”

  “It’s a shame we’re all here for such a sad reason,” Maggie replied.

  Tears flooded Vida’s eyes at that unwanted reminder. “I wish I’d never left. Don’t ever threaten a man with divorce if you don’t truly mean it.”

  As Maggie recalled, her father had two more wives after Vida, but the hurt sounded fresh in her voice. “You have some regrets?”

  “Yes and no,” Vida insisted. “I wanted him to choose me over the parade of women following him like bleating sheep. He thought being his wife ought to be enough for me. I was a fool to disagree.”

  “No, he was the fool to behave badly and let you go,” Maggie replied, even knowing she ought to stay out of her father’s twisted love life.

  “Thank you, but you’re as wrong as I was.” She checked her diamond-encrusted watch. “I need to keep track of the time; our visits mustn’t be too long.”

  “Will I see you at dinner?”

  “No, we come and go without making a ripple in Miguel’s life. I hope you’re not sorry you made the trip. Miguel has so many heirs, he can’t be generous to us all. Although you’ll probably be mentioned in his will.”

  Taken aback by the second mention of his will, Maggie was slow to respond. “I’m grateful to have met him.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t disappointed. Have a safe trip home.” Vida’s tight white sheath barely touched her knees, and her platform heels were so high she tottered slightly as she entered the back door.

  Vida was petite and nearly as beautiful as Maggie’s own mother. Her mother was a far stronger woman, though, and had divorced an unfaithful husband rather than suffer with his poor behavior. Still, her mother had kept Miguel’s photographs with treasured family keepsakes, and Maggie would never ask if she harbored any regrets.

  Chapter Eight

  Tomas, the Aragon’s personal chef, glanced over his shoulder as Maggie entered the kitchen. “You should use the proper rear entrance to the house.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Where is it?”

  The man glanced upward in a silent prayer. “Adolfo, show her the door.”

  Adolfo was a short, rotund young man who wiped off his hands and gestured for Maggie to follow. He exhaled in puffs as he hurried down the back hallway. They passed a small lounge where that day’s nurse was seated on the sofa, watching television. Adolfo stopped at a rear door located behind the central staircase. When he unlocked it and turned the knob, it was stuck fast.

  “Thank you, Adolfo,” Maggie murmured. “It appears the door needs some attention.” She heard Mrs. Lopez’s furious little footsteps approaching and wasn’t surprised when Adolfo hurried away.

  “He shouldn’t be out of the kitchen,” the housekeeper exclaimed. She grabbed the doorknob and gave the bottom of the door a swift kick to swing it open.

  “I’ll remember that,” Maggie promised, “but how does one open the door from outside?”

  Mrs. Lopez straightened to her full five feet in height. “Manuel will have it fixed by this afternoon.”

  “Thank you.” The window by the door provided another stunning view of the sea and Maggie remained there until the housekeeper walked away. “Dance lessons,” she recalled. She went to find the twins and came across Santos sitting at the bottom of the stairs with his head in his hands.

  He looked up. “Vida called me a bastard on her way up the stairs. I hope she falls and breaks both legs on her way down.” He stood and pulled a key from his pocket. “Don’t lose this, and be sure you give it back to me before you leave for home.”

  “I will. Are we supposed to be using the door behind the stairs to enter the house from the beach?”

  “No, it sticks. There’s another door that opens into the den, but then we track sand into the house and never hear the end of it. Walk through the kitchen as often as you like. It gives Tomas an opportunity to scold us, which is all we ever hear here.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Santos,” Maggie admitted with a warm smile. “Do you know where the family photo albums are? I’d like to see what our grandfather looked like.”

  “I’ll show you.” He rose, led her into the den and quickly found the leather-bound album on the shelf closest to the desk. “There are a few pictures of Augustín in this one, but most of his things are at the ranch. We should go out there tomorrow. It’s where I was born, and there’s a lot to see.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.” She opened the scrapbook and found sepia-toned photographs of men and women in their best clothes. “Who are these people?”

  “Our great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins; I can never keep everyone straight. Augustín is in the back. Here, let me show you.”

  Maggie recognized him instantly as a slightly older version of their father and a very handsome man. “Did you know him?”

  “I learned to stay out of his way,” Santos recalled. “Here he is before a fight.”

  Maggie leaned close to study her grandfather’s expression. Despite his magnificent suit, he looked thoroughly mean, and she didn’t understand why he and Carmen hadn’t been perfect for each other. “He looks awfully tough.”

  “Tough is a good word. Our father inherited his looks and talent, but he loves people and Augustín didn’t. Or maybe he couldn’t.”

  The twins came in, swishing the long skirts they’d found in a guestroom closet. They snapped their fingers and twirled around Santos. “Are you never still?” he asked. “I’ll talk to Father later about going to the ranch. Do you two want to come along?”

  The pair slid to a halt. “The ranch is all dusty,” Perry complained.

  “And our ponies are gone,” Connie added.

  “You’re too big for ponies now anyway,” he countered.

  “Are you going?” they asked Maggie.

  “Yes, I’d like to see the ranch while I’m here. Now, let’s practice dancing while you’re dressed for it.”

  They walked out to the entryway and went through the steps she’d taught them, with Santos softly clapping the rhythm. Maggie understood they ought not to make too much noise, but Cirilda soon interrupted them with a message for the twins.

  “Your mother wants to speak with you. Use the telephone in the den.” She went to the doorway to listen to the girls’ side of the conversation. Maggie and Santos could hear their excited shrieks from where they stood.

  Perry handed the telephone to her sister and yelled, “Our agent has some print ads lined up for us, and we may get to model in one of Donatella Versace’s shows!”

  Maggie had seen her sisters eat, so she knew they did, but they were still growing and had the thin, leggy figures designers loved. When their shapes filled out in a few years, they’d be out of work. Cirilda was smiling, so clearly she wasn’t opposed to exploiting the girls while they could. Maggie leaned close to Santos. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”


  “No, but Marina will use it for her own publicity and encourage it.”

  After a brief conversation with their mother, the twins ran from the den, startled their aunt with a hug and danced around Maggie and Santos. “We’re going to be famous!”

  Perry went over to the banister and struck a pose. “We’ll be doing print ads first. We could become as famous as Ana Santillan!”

  Maggie didn’t dare look at Santos. “I hope you’re not forgetting about school.”

  Connie’s shoulders slumped. “How can you think about school when we’ll be making millions? We can go to school when we’re old. Mother will come to get us this afternoon. We have to pack.” They rushed up the stairs, laughing and tickling each other.

  “First, we must tell your father,” Cirilda reminded them and followed them up the stairs.

  “What do you suppose he’ll say?” Maggie asked her brother.

  He shrugged. “He avoids arguments, especially now, so he’ll say he’s proud of them and let them go with Marina. They expected to stay only a few days anyway. He’ll have too much excitement for today with the twins jumping around his bed, so I’ll talk to him tomorrow about taking you with me to the ranch. Marina is never on time and probably won’t be here for hours. I have some errands to run. Come with me, and you can see more of Barcelona.”

  “Is there somewhere I could buy a journal and some postcards?”

  “I’ll find one.”

  Maggie enjoyed his company and was relieved she wouldn’t have to spend the day alone. She’d expected the twins to still be there when they returned, but the girls were already gone. She was sorry she’d had no chance to tell them good-bye or meet Marina. “I see what you mean, Santos; people just appear and disappear here, as though it were a stage for a play.”