11
Returning from the ladies’ room in San Juan airport, Katie made her way toward the baggage claim area where the luggage was arriving from their Miami–San Juan flight.
A thrill of anticipation danced up her spine as she listened to the tide of incomprehensible rapid-fire Spanish interspersed with English, being spoken all around her. To her left, a group of distinguished, fair-haired men were speaking what Katie was certain must be Swedish. Behind her was a large cluster of tourists conversing in flowing French. Puerto Rico, she realized with surprised delight, must be a vacation place for more than just Americans.
She scanned the throngs of people and saw Ramon nod toward a porter who immediately changed direction, wheeled his trolley over to Ramon, and began loading Katie’s six Gucci suitcases onto it. Katie smiled to herself because everyone else was waving frantically and calling to the busy porters, trying to attract their attention, but Ramon merely had to incline his head. And no wonder, she thought with pride. Dressed in a dark business suit and conservative tie, Ramon was the most impressive-looking man Katie had ever seen. There was an aura of implacable authority and calm purposefulness about him that even a porter couldn’t miss. Looking at him, Katie thought he resembled an affluent business executive, not a struggling local farmer. She supposed the porter must have thought so too, and was probably expecting a handsome tip for his services. Uncomfortably, Katie wondered if Ramon realized that.
Why hadn’t she suggested that they carry their own luggage? Between them, they could have managed in two or three trips since Ramon was traveling with only one large suitcase and a smaller one. She was going to have to learn to be thrifty, to remember that Ramon had very little money, that he even drove a truck to earn extra.
“Ready?” Ramon asked, placing his hand beneath Katie’s elbow and guiding her through the crowded airport.
Taxis were lined up outside waiting for fares. The porter started for the first one at the head of the line with Katie following beside Ramon. “Is the weather always this beautiful?” she asked, lifting her face to the azure sky decorated with fluffy white clouds.
The pleasure in Ramon’s smile told her how much he wanted her to like her future home. “Usually it is. The temperature generally remains in the upper seventies, and the easterly trade winds provide a breeze that—” Ramon glanced up to see how far ahead the porter was, and whatever he’d been about to say was left unfinished.
Following his angry gaze, Katie was shocked to see their luggage being loaded into a gleaming maroon Rolls-Royce, which was waiting at the curb ahead of the line of taxis. A chauffeur wearing an immaculate black uniform and visored cap was standing at attention beside the Rolls. As they neared the car he swept open the back door with a flourish, stepping aside for them to enter.
Katie stopped short and looked inquiringly at Ramon, who snapped questions at the chauffeur in Spanish. Whatever the man replied seemed to make Ramon positively furious. Wordlessly, he put his hand against the small of Katie’s back and forced her off the curb and into the cool luxury of the Rolls’ white leather interior.
“What is going on?” Katie asked as soon as Ramon slid in beside her. “Whose car is this?”
Ramon waited until the chauffeur had closed the passenger door before replying. His voice was tight with the strain of controlling his inexplicable anger. “The car belongs to a man who has a villa on the island, but is rarely here. Garcia, the chauffeur, is er, an old friend of my family. When he found out we were arriving today, he decided to meet us.”
“What a thoughtful thing for him to do!” Katie said brightly.
“I specifically said I did not want him to do it.”
“Oh,” Katie faltered. “Well, I’m sure he meant well.”
Turning his attention to the chauffeur, who was now seated behind the steering wheel looking expectantly into the rearview mirror, Ramon pressed a button that opened the glass partition separating the driver from his passengers. In a clipped Spanish voice he issued instructions, then the glass partition glided back into place and the Rolls slid smoothly away from the curb.
Katie had never been in a Rolls-Royce, and she was enchanted with the car. She ran her fingertips over the seat, luxuriating in the feel of unbelievably soft, white glove leather. “What’s this?” she asked, leaning forward and pressing a button in the back of the driver’s seat. She laughed as a small rosewood writing desk lifted electronically out of the seat and flipped down over her lap. Raising the top, she looked inside and found it equipped with thick parchment writing paper, gold pens and even a tiny gold stapler. “How do I put it back?” she asked, after trying unsuccessfully to push it into place.
“Press the same button again.”
Katie did. With a faint mechanical whir the rosewood desk lifted off her lap, flipped up, and retracted into place as the concealing panel of white leather slid down to cover it. “What does that one do?” She smiled, nodding toward the button above Ramon’s knees.
Ramon was watching her, his face completely expressionless. “It opens a liquor cabinet concealed in the seat in front of me.”
“Where’s the television set and stereo?” Katie joked.
“Between the desk and the liquor cabinet.”
The delighted smile faded from her lips. Ramon, she realized, was not sharing her enjoyment of the luxury car’s unique equipment. After an uncertain pause, she said hesitantly, “Whoever owns this car must be extraordinarily wealthy.”
“He was.”
“Was?” she repeated. “Is he dead?”
“Financially, he is dead.” With that curt, inscrutable reply, Ramon turned his head away and stared out the window.
Bewildered and hurt by his coldness, Katie looked out her own window. Her dismal musings were interrupted as her hand, which was lying limply on the seat between them, was suddenly enclosed in Ramon’s warm, firm grasp. With his head still averted, he said harshly, “I wish that I could give you a dozen cars like this one, Katie.”
Comprehension dawned, and for a moment Katie was too stunned to speak. Relief washed over her, followed by unabashed amusement. “I wish you could afford to give me just one like it. After all, an expensive car is a guarantee of happiness, isn’t it?” Ramon’s sharp gaze veered toward her, and Katie widened her blue eyes with exaggerated innocence. “David gave me a Porsche for a wedding present, and look how happy my life was with him!”
The stern line of Ramon’s mouth relaxed into a faint smile as she continued. “Now, if David had given me a Rolls-Royce, I would have been perfectly content with our marriage. Although,” she said as Ramon’s arm went around her shoulders, drawing her close to him, “the only thing that would have made my life absolutely ecstatic was—” Her sentence was smothered by the abrupt descent of Ramon’s mouth as he covered her lips with his, kissing her deeply . . . kissing her, Katie realized, with gratitude.
When he finally lifted his head she basked in the tenderness of his smile. “What would have made your life absolutely ecstatic?” he teased huskily.
Katie’s eyes danced as she snuggled closer to him. “A Ferrari!”
Ramon burst out laughing and Katie felt the tension leave his powerful body. Now things were in their proper perspective, out in the open where they could be laughed about, which was exactly what she had intended.
Puerto Rico took Katie completely by surprise. She had not expected a mountainous tropical paradise with lush green valleys and tranquil blue lakes sparkling in the sunlight. The Rolls climbed steadily along smooth, curving roads bordered with spectacular flowering trees, their branches covered thickly in pink and yellow blossoms.
They passed through picturesque villages nestled between the mountains; each village with its own town square in the center of which was the church with its spire pointing heavenward. Katie craned her neck, her eyes delighting in the vivid colors nature had splashed over hills and meadows, her voice happy as she exclaimed over everything from ferns to farmhouses. Throughout it all, she could feel Ramon’s piercing eyes on her, watching her beneath their heavy lids, observing her every reaction. Twice she had turned abruptly to make some enthusiastic comment, and had glimpsed the anxiety in his expression before he could cover it with one of his bland smiles. He desperately wanted her to like his homeland, and for some reason, he seemed unable to believe that she really did.
Nearly an hour after they left the airport, the Rolls passed through another small village and turned off the paved road onto a dirt track, continuing to climb. Katie gasped in speechless wonder; it was as if they were driving through a red silk tunnel illuminated with gossamer sunbeams. Blossoming royal poinciana trees marched along both sides of them, their laden branches meeting overhead, their fallen scarlet petals literally carpeting the road beneath the tires in deep red. “It’s absolutely unbelievable,” she breathed, turning to Ramon. “Are we getting close to your home?”
“About a mile and a half farther up this lane,” he said, but the tension was back in his features, and his smile was nothing more than a slight curving of his tight lips. He was staring straight ahead as if he were as intent upon discovering what was at the end of the drive as she was.
Katie was about to ask him if the pretty flowers with the scarlet cups were a variety of tulip, when the Rolls emerged from the poinciana’s two-mile-long red canopy and pulled into an ugly overgrown yard surrounding a run-down white brick cottage. Trying to hide her appalled disappointment, Katie turned to Ramon, who was staring at the house with an expression of such murderous fury that she unconsciously pressed back into the seat cushions.
Before the car had come to a complete stop in the yard, Ramon had flung open his door, lunged out of the vehicle, slammed the door violently behind him and was striding across the pitiful lawn with rage in every step.
The elderly chauffeur helped Katie out of the car, and they both turned in time to see Ramon rattle the cottage door, then throw his shoulder against it with so much explosive power that it flew off its hinges and crashed onto the floor of the cottage.
Katie stood frozen to the spot, looking at the gaping black hole where a door had been a moment before. Her gaze moved over the shutters hanging at drunken angles over the windows and the paint peeling off the wood trim.
In a flash, all of Katie’s optimism and courage deserted her. She missed her beautiful apartment complex with its gas lamps and enclosed patios. She could never live in a place like this; she had been a fool to try to deny her own love of luxury, her own upbringing.
The breeze tugged a few silken strands of hair loose from her elegant chignon. Katie lifted her hand to brush them out of her eyes, trying at the same time to brush away the vision of herself standing in this overgrown weed patch, looking as shabby and unkempt as this awful hovel. In a year or two she would become as slovenly as her surroundings, because living like this would corrode anyone’s personal pride until they just didn’t care anymore.
Reluctantly she began picking her way along what was left of a brick walk leading to the door of the cottage. Red tiles had blown off the roof, shattering when they hit the walk, and Katie carefully avoided stepping on them with the thin soles of her expensive Italian sandals.
She walked hesitantly through the doorway, blinking her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Revulsion swelled in her throat. The inside of the empty cottage was covered in layers of dirt, filth and cobwebs. Where the sun streamed through the broken slats of the shutters dust floated in the air. How could Ramon live like this, she wondered in horror. He was always so immaculately well-groomed, she couldn’t imagine him existing in this . . . this squalor.
With a supreme effort, Katie brought her frantic emotions under control and forced herself to think logically. In the first place, no one had been living here—the dirt hadn’t been disturbed for years. Or the mice either, she thought with a shudder as scratching sounds emanated from the walls.
Ramon was standing in the middle of the room, his rigid back to her.
“Ramon?” Her voice was an apprehensive whisper.
“Get out of this place,” he gritted in a low voice vibrating with fury. “The filth will cling to you, even if you do not touch anything.”
There was nothing Katie wanted to do more than leave here—unless it was to leave for the airport, then home, then her beautiful modern apartment. She started to go, realized that Ramon wasn’t following her, stopped and turned toward him again. He was still standing with his back to her, either unwilling—or unable—to turn around and face her. With a stab of compassion Katie realized how much he must have been dreading the moment when she would see this place. No wonder he had seemed so tense when they drove up the lane. Now he was angry because he was embarrassed and ashamed that this run-down cottage was the best he could offer her. She spoke to break the uneasy silence. “You—you said you were born here.”
Ramon slowly turned and stared through her as if she didn’t exist.
Braving his mood, Katie continued. “I assumed that you meant you had lived here since you were born, but no one has lived here for years, have they?”
“No,” he snapped.
Katie winced at his tone. “Has it been long since you were here last?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“Places—houses that haven’t been lived in for a while always seem dreary and ugly, even when they’re really nice.” She was trying desperately to console him, even though she knew he really ought to be consoling her. “It probably doesn’t look the way you remember it.”
“It looks exactly the way I remember it!”
His scathing sarcasm sliced into Katie’s highly sensitized emotions like a razor blade, but still she tried. “If—if it looks exactly as you remember it, why, are you so furio . . . so upset,” she amended hastily.
“Because,” he said in a terrible voice, “I sent a telegram four days ago asking that as many men as necessary be sent to clean and make repairs to this place.”
“Oh,” Katie breathed in relieved surprise.
Her evident relief made Ramon’s whole body go rigid. His eyes became twin black daggers that impaled her. “Do you have such a low opinion of me that you think I would bring you to live in this—this filthy shack? Now that you have seen it like this, I would not permit you to live here. You would never be able to forget the way it looks now.”
Katie stared at him in anger and bewilderment. Only minutes ago she’d been certain of her future and that she was wanted, secure and loved. Now she was certain of nothing, and she was furious with Ramon for unfairly venting his frustration on her.
A dozen indignant rejoinders sprang to mind, only to lodge in her throat behind a lump of sympathetic tenderness that swelled unbearably as she regarded him. Standing there in the middle of the shabby empty house where he was born, Ramon seemed so utterly defeated, and so proudly determined not to show it, that her heart twisted. “I think you have a low opinion of me if you believe that,” she said into the charged silence.
Turning away from his narrowed gaze, Katie walked to the two arched doorways leading off the right side of the living room and peeked inside—two bedrooms, one large one at the front of the house, and a smaller one at the rear. “There’s a lovely view from both bedroom windows,” she announced.
“Neither of which have glass in the frames,” Ramon responded tersely.
Katie ignored him and went to another doorway. A bathroom, she surmised with a mental grimace at the rusted sink and tub. An unwelcome image of her parents’ sunken marble bath paraded across Katie’s mind, followed immediately by the memory of her own modern bathroom at the apartment. Bravely, she banished both from her mind and flipped on a light switch. “There’s electricity right to the house,” she enthused.
“Which is not turned on,” Ramon snapped.
Katie knew she was sounding like a real-estate saleswoman trying to make a sale, but she couldn’t help herself. “And this must be the kitchen,” she said, walking over to an antiquated porcelain sink standing on steel legs. “Which has hot and cold running water.” To prove it, she reached for the taps.
“Do not bother,” Ramon said in a tight voice, watching her from the doorway. “They do not work.”
Katie’s chin lifted as she tried to summon the courage to turn around and face him. In the process she found herself staring out a wide grimy window above the sink. “Ramon,” she breathed, “whoever built this house must have loved a view as much as I do.” Verdant green hills spread out in a panorama in front of her, their slopes covered in blooming yellow and pink blossoms.
When she swung away from the sink there was genuine pleasure in her expression. “It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful! I would wash dishes for a living if I could look out at that while I washed them.” Eagerly, her gaze moved over the large rectangular kitchen. At the opposite end, one entire wall of windows was joined at the corner with another large expanse of windows. Situated in front of them was a crude wooden table and chairs. “It would be like eating on a terrace—you can see for miles in two different directions,” she announced, watching a slight uncertainty flicker across Ramon’s frozen features. “Why, this kitchen could be made to look bright and spacious!”
Studiously avoiding looking at the peeling linoleum on the uneven floor, Katie turned and marched back into the living room. She walked over to the large panes of glass that extended across two walls and rubbed away a bit of the grime. Peering out through the patch she had cleared, she gazed at the view. “I can see the village!” she exclaimed in awe. “I can even pick out the church. From up here it’s like a little white toy village with green hills all round it. Ramon, it’s like looking at a—a picture postcard. These windows must have been placed so that no matter where you look there will always be something beautiful to see. Do you know what—?” Unaware that Ramon had walked up behind her, Katie whirled around and collided with his tall, powerful body. “This house has real possibilities!” She met his cynical expression with a bright smile. “All it needs is a fresh coat of paint and some new curtains.”
“And an exterminator and an army of carpenters,” Ramon replied acidly. “Or better yet, a competent arsonist.”
“All right—fresh paint, new curtains, an exterminator and you with a hammer and nails.” She bit her lip as a disquieting thought occurred to her. “You do know about carpentry, don’t you?”
For the first time since they had arrived at the house, Katie saw a glimmer of humor touch his handsome face. “I imagine that I know as much about carpentry as you know about making curtains, Katie.”
“Wonderful!” bluffed Katie, who hadn’t the foggiest notion how to make a curtain. “Then you won’t have any trouble fixing things here, will you?”
He seemed to waver, then he swept the shabby room with a contemptuous glance. His features hardened until his face seemed to be carved out of stone. Katie, realizing that he was about to refuse, put her hand on his arm. “This could be a cozy, cheerful home. I know you’re embarrassed because I’ve seen it looking this way, but that will only make it more rewarding and exciting when it finally looks the way it should. I’ll really enjoy helping you restore it—honestly I will. Ramon,” she whispered beseechingly when he simply stared at her, “please, please don’t spoil it for me like this.”
“Spoil it for you?!” he exploded, raking his hand through the side of his hair. “Spoil it for you?” Without warning he reached for her, and Katie found herself crushed against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I knew I should not have brought you to Puerto Rico, Katie,” he said in an agonized whisper. “I knew it was selfish of me, but I did it anyway. Now that I have, I know I should send you back home, where you belong. I know it,” he said, drawing a ragged breath. “But—God forgive me—I cannot bear to do it!”
Katie wound her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the solid hardness of his chest. “I don’t want to go home; I want to stay here with you.” And—at least for the moment—she was certain she did.
She heard his breath catch and felt the sudden tensing of his muscles. He drew back slightly and tenderly cradled her face between his hands. “Why?” he whispered, his black eyes intently searching hers. “Why do you want to stay here with me?”
A beaming smile lit Katie’s features. “So that I can prove to you that this house can become the home of your dreams!”
Her answer caused an unexplainable sadness to shadow his eyes. It lingered there as Ramon slowly bent his head to her. “This is the real reason you want to stay with me, Katie.” His lips brushed over hers, warm and tantalizing, while his hands drifted down her shoulders and over her back in an enticing, ever-changing caress.
Every nerve in Katie’s body began to quiver in anticipation. It seemed like weeks, not days, since Ramon had kissed and caressed her with stormy passion. Now he was intentionally taking his time, making her wait, teasing her. Katie did not want to be teased and tantalized. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself into his muscular body. She kissed him deeply, trying to break his iron control. Against her, she felt the rising hardness tightening his thighs, but as if to retaliate for her having deliberately aroused him, Ramon slid his lips from hers and began kissing the corner of her mouth, trailing his lips over her cheek, down the sensitive column of her neck, then up again to her ear, his tongue sensuously exploring each curve, each crevice.
“Don’t!” Katie pleaded with a throbbing ache in her voice. “Don’t tease me, Ramon. Not now.” She half-expected him to ignore her. Instead, his mouth claimed hers with a fierce hunger and raw urgency that surpassed her own. His hands rushed over her, sliding up her nape and over her shoulders, possessively cupping her aching breasts, then sweeping low to press her tightly against his rigid, pulsing thighs.
Shuddering with pleasure, Katie dug her fingers into the bunched muscles of his shoulders and back, joyously fed the insatiable hunger of his mouth, willingly arched herself against the demanding, rhythmic thrusts of his hardened, aroused manhood.
An eternity later, the pressure of his lips lessened and then was gone as Ramon slowly raised his head. Even in her dazed state, Katie recognized the passion blazing in his eyes and knew he saw it in hers, too. Still shaking with quick, piercing stabs of desire, she watched his sultry gaze dip to her softly parted lips. His arms tightened convulsively as he started to bend his head to her, then hesitated, trying to fight the temptation. “Oh, God!” he groaned, and his mouth hungrily covered hers once more.
Time after time he began to pull away, only to change his mind and bury his lips in hers for another series of long drugging kisses.
When they finally stopped, Katie was shattered. Helplessly, mindlessly, joyously shattered by the combined force of their exchanged passion and pleasure. He rested his cheek against her bright head, his hands gently caressing her back, holding her close against the violent hammering of his heart, while Katie leaned weakly against him, her arms still around his neck.
Several minutes had passed when Katie thought she heard Ramon murmur something. She managed to lift her head, open her languorous blue eyes and look at him. Lost in her dreamy euphoria, she admired the masculine face looking back at her. He really was incredibly handsome, she thought; so utterly masculine with those hard, sculpted features. She liked his firm jawline, his determined chin with its attractive cleft, and the sensuality in the mold of his mouth. And he had the most compelling, riveting eyes—eyes that could melt her or freeze her. His hair was so thick and glossy black, beautifully styled and shaped to lie flat at the sides, yet just long enough for her to run her fingers through it at the nape.
Katie reached up and smoothed the hair at his temple, then rested her hand against his cheek, her thumb idly tracing the cleft in his chin.
Ramon’s dark eyes had been watching her. They captured her gaze, holding it, while he turned his head and slid his lips back and forth against her sensitive palm. He spoke, and his deep voice was raw, hoarse with an intense emotion that wasn’t passion. “You make me very happy, Katie.”
Katie tried to smile, but the painful quality she heard in his voice made her eyes burn with tears. And after three days of emotional turmoil culminating in the last tumultuous hour, she was too weakened to stop them. “You make me happy too,” she whispered, as two tears spilled over her lashes.
“Yes,” Ramon said with solemn amusement as he watched the shimmering tears. “I can see that.”
Katie gaped at him, feeling as if she were teetering on the brink of insanity. Ten seconds ago she could have sworn there were tears in his voice, but now he was smiling and she was crying. Except she wasn’t crying, she was starting to laugh. “I—I always cry when I’m happy,” she explained wiping away the two tears.
“Surely not!” he exclaimed in mock horror. “Do you then laugh when you are sad?”
“I probably will,” Katie admitted, her face wreathed in a brilliant smile. “I’ve been all mixed-up ever since I met you.” Impulsively, she reached up and pressed a kiss on his warmly responsive lips, then leaned back in his encircling arms. “Garcia will be wondering what we’ve been doing. I suppose we’d better go.”
She sighed with such regret that Ramon grinned at her. “Garcia is a man of great dignity; he would never stoop to speculating about our activities.” Nevertheless, Ramon obligingly released her. With his arm around her waist, they walked through the doorway into the sunlight.
Katie was about to ask when they could start working on the house, but Ramon’s attention was riveted on a man about sixty years old who was walking into the yard.
When he saw Ramon, his tanned, leathery face broke into a slow smile. “Your telegram only arrived an hour ago—just before I saw the Rolls pass through the village. Do these old eyes of mine trick me, Ramon, or is it really you I see standing here?”
Grinning, Ramon held out his hand. “Your eyes are as sharp as the night you saw smoke coming through a window and caught me in the shed with a pack of cigarettes, Rafael.”
“They were my cigarettes,” the man named Rafael reminded him, simultaneously shaking Ramon’s hand and affectionately clapping him on the arm.
Ramon winked at Katie. “Unfortunately, I had none of my own to smoke.”
“Because he was only nine years old, and too young to buy them,” Rafael explained, flashing a conspiratorial smile at Katie. “You should have seen him, señorita. He was lying on his back on a bale of hay with his hands behind his head, looking like a very important man who was enjoying his leisure. I made him eat three of the cigarettes.”
“Did that cure you?” Katie laughed.
“It cured me of cigarettes,” Ramon admitted. “I switched to cigars after that.”
“And then to girls,” Rafael said with humorous severity. He turned to Katie. “When Padre Gregorio read your banns at mass this morning, the señoritas all wept with disappointment, and Padre Gregorio sighed with relief. Praying for Ramon’s immortal soul had been Padre Gregorio’s most time-consuming task.” Pausing in this good-natured monologue to enjoy Ramon’s visible discomfort, he added, “But you are not to worry, señorita. Now that he is engaged to you, Ramon will no doubt mend his wicked ways and ignore those fast women who have been chasing him all these years.”
Ramon shot a quelling look at the older man. “If you are through assassinating my character, Rafael, I will introduce you to my fiancée—assuming Katie is still willing to marry me after listening to you.”
Katie was stunned that marriage banns—the formal proclamation of an intended marriage—were already being read in church here. How had Ramon accomplished that from St. Louis? Somehow, Katie managed a weak smile while Ramon introduced Rafael Villegas as the man who had been “like a second father” to him, but it was several minutes before she could pull herself together and pay attention to their conversation.
“When I saw the car heading in this direction,” Rafael was saying, “I was glad that you are not ashamed to bring your novia here and show her where your roots are, even though you now—”
“Katie,” Ramon interrupted abruptly. “You are not accustomed to this sun yet. Perhaps you would rather wait in the car where it is cool.”
Surprised by this politely worded dismissal, Katie said goodbye to Rafael and obediently returned to the air-conditioned Rolls. Whatever Ramon was telling Señor Villegas had the man looking almost comically bewildered, then stunned, then extremely grim. She was relieved that when they finally shook hands and parted they were both smiling again.
“Forgive me for asking you to leave like that,” Ramon said, sliding into the car. “Among other things, I needed to discuss some work I need done to the cottage, and it would embarrass Rafael if you were present when we talked about money.” Pressing the button that opened the glass between the chauffeur and themselves, Ramon issued instructions in Spanish, then shrugged out of his suit jacket, pulled off his tie, loosened the top buttons of his cream-colored shirt, and stretched his legs out. He looked, Katie thought, like a man who had just been through an ordeal, but was relatively pleased with the outcome.
Questions tumbled over in her mind, and she started with the least important first. “Where are we going now?”
“We are going to the village where we will have a quiet meal.” Ramon put his arm around her shoulders, his fingertips playing with the little turquoise stud in her earlobe. “While we are dining, Rafael will have his married daughter prepare her spare bedroom for you. I had intended for you to stay at the house but it is not habitable. Besides, I had not considered the need for a chaperon for you until Rafael reminded me.”
“A chaperon! You can’t mean it,” Katie sputtered. “It’s—it’s—”
“Necessary,” Ramon provided for her.
“I was going to say Victorian, archaic and silly.”
“True. But in our case it is still necessary.”
Katie’s delicate brows rose. “Our case?”
“Katie, this village is like a small town where very little happens, so everyone watches what everyone else does, and they gossip about it. I am a bachelor, therefore, an object of interest.”
“So I gathered from what Señor Villegas said,” Katie retorted primly.
Ramon’s lips twitched, but he made no comment. “As my fiancée, you too are an object of interest. What is more important, you are also an American, which makes you a target for criticism. There are many here who believe that American women all have loose morals.”
Mutiny was written on Katie’s beautiful face. Her high cheekbones were tinted with pink and her blue eyes were sparkling dangerously. Ramon, correctly interpreting the danger signals, swiftly pulled her close and pressed his lips to her temple. “By ‘chaperon’ I did not mean someone to follow you around, Katie. I only meant that you could not live alone. If you do, the moment I set foot through your door the gossips will say that you let me share your bed, and because you are an American, everyone else will believe it. You may think you do not care, but this is going to be your home. You will not like it if, even years from now, you cannot walk through the village without having people whisper about you.”
“I still object to the idea, on principle,” Katie said, but without much conviction because Ramon was sensuously exploring her ear.
His muffled laugh sent thrills racing down her spine. “I hoped you were objecting to the idea because you thought a chaperon would make it more difficult for us to . . . be alone together.”
“That too,” Katie admitted with breathless candor.
Ramon’s chuckle was rich and deep. “I am going to stay with Rafael’s family. Gabriella’s house, where you will be staying, is only a mile away.” Smoothing his hand from her silken cheek back to the coil of her chic chignon, he said huskily. “We will find the time, and the places, to share ourselves with each other.”
Katie thought that was a beautiful way to describe making love; two people sharing their bodies with each other so that each could derive pleasure from the other. She smiled, wondering if she would ever understand him. He was such a unique combination of gentleness and strength; of raw, potent virility overlaid with smooth sexual expertise and tender restraint. No wonder she’d been confused since the day she met him. She’d never known anyone even remotely like him in her entire life!
At the edge of the village square Garcia pulled over and stopped. “I thought you might prefer to walk,” Ramon explained, helping Katie to alight. “Garcia will deliver your things to Gabriella’s house, then go back to Mayagüez, where he lives.”
The sun was beginning its descent in a blaze of pink and gold against the blue sky as they strolled across the plaza in the center of which was a stately old Spanish church. “This is where we will be married,” Ramon told her. Katie’s gaze roamed appreciatively over the church and the small buildings that surrounded it on all four sides, creating the village square. The Spanish influence was evident in the arched doorways and windows, and the black wrought-iron trim on the shops that sold everything from fresh bakery goods to small, intricately carved religious figurines. Flowers bloomed everywhere, hanging from balconies and windows, and in huge urns in front of the shops, adding their vibrant splashes of color to the picturesque little square. Tourists with cameras ambled across the plaza, stopping to peer into shop windows or sit at the little sidewalk café, sipping cool rum drinks as they watched the villagers.
Katie glanced at Ramon, who was walking beside her with his suit jacket hooked on a thumb over his shoulder. Despite his outwardly casual appearance, Katie could almost feel his anxiety as he waited for her first reaction to his village. “It’s beautiful,” she said honestly. “Very picturesque and charming.”
The sideways look he slanted her was dubious. “But tiny, and not what you expected?”
“Prettier and more convenient than what I expected,” Katie argued stubbornly. “It even has a general store. And,” she added with a teasing glance, “it has two hotels! I’m very impressed.”
Her joking succeeded where her sincere compliments had not. Grinning, he put his arm around her waist and drew her close against his side for a brief, tight hug. “The Casa Grande,” he said, nodding toward a quaint three-story hotel with wrought-iron balconies, “boasts ten guest rooms. The other has only seven, but it has a small dining room and the food used to be good. We will dine there.”
The restaurant had five tables, four of which were occupied with tourists who were laughing and talking. Katie and Ramon were given the remaining table. The waiter lit the candle in the center of the red-and-white-checked tablecloth and took their order. Ramon leaned back in his chair and smiled at Katie who was watching him with puzzled eyes. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“I was wondering where you lived before now, and what you’ve been doing. You couldn’t have been working at your farm, or you wouldn’t need to stay with Rafael.”
Ramon answered slowly, almost cautiously. “I have lived near Mayagüez in the past, and until now I have been working for a company that is going out of business.”
“Is the company in the farming business?” Katie asked.
Ramon hesitated and then he nodded. “Among other things, it is a canning operation. Instead of going to work for another company, I had already decided when I met you that I would prefer to work on my own farm rather than pay someone else to do work that I could be doing. During the next two weeks, I will still devote some time to the company; the rest I will spend working with the men who will be repairing our house.”
Our house. The phrase made Katie’s stomach clench. It sounded so strange. So final. Averting her eyes, she played with her glass, slowly turning it in her fingers.
“What frightens you about that, Katie?” he asked after a pause.
“Nothing. I—I was just wondering what I would be doing while you’re gone.”
“While I am working you can shop for things we will need for our house. Many items you will be able to buy in the villages. Furniture will have to be purchased in San Juan. Gabriella will take you to the shops and act as translator for you where one is needed.”
“Furniture?” Katie stared. “Don’t you have furniture in your place in Mayagüez?”
“I am going to sell it. It would not be appropriate for the cottage, anyway.”
Katie, seeing the way his mouth tightened, assumed that his furniture would be an embarrassment to him, as the cottage had been, and that he didn’t feel it was good enough for her. She knew perfectly well Ramon was having her stay with Rafael’s daughter because he couldn’t afford the expense of putting her in a hotel for three weeks; his explanation about wanting to forestall gossip didn’t deceive her in the least. He couldn’t afford a hotel, and he certainly couldn’t afford a houseful of new furnishings, either. Yet he was going to buy them for her—to please her. Knowing that made her feel acutely uneasy.
What if something happened to convince her she shouldn’t marry him after all? How could she possibly face him with an announcement like that, after she let him spend so much of his money trying to give her what he thought she wanted? She felt as if she were caught in a trap, a cage into which she had willingly placed herself, but as the doors began swinging closed on her, panic was setting in. Marriage in all its awesome finality suddenly loomed ahead of her, and Katie knew that somehow she had to feel free to leave if she changed her mind at any time during the next weeks.
“I want to pay for part of the furniture,” Katie blurted suddenly.
Ramon waited for the man who was serving their meal to leave before replying. “No,” he said succinctly.
“But—”
“I would not have suggested we buy it if I could not pay for it.”
He meant that to end the discussion once and for all, but Katie was desperate. “That isn’t the point!”
“No?” he asked. “Then exactly what is the point?”
“The point is that you’re already spending a great deal of money renovating the cottage, and furniture is very expensive.”
“Tomorrow I will give you three thousand dollars to spend on things for the house—”
“Three thousand dollars?” Katie interrupted, astonished. “How can you possibly afford to spend so much? Where will you get it?”
There was an imperceptible hesitation before Ramon answered. “The company that is going out of business owes me several months’ back pay. I will get it from there.”
“But—” Katie started to argue.
Ramon’s jaw hardened into an uncompromising line. With cool finality he said, “As a man, it is my responsibility to provide a home for you and the furnishings for it. You will not pay for anything.”
Katie’s long lashes flickered down as she carefully concealed her rebellious blue eyes from his penetrating gaze. Ramon, she decided, was about to discover she was a brilliant bargain hunter. His furnishings were going to cost him exactly one-half of what they were worth—because she was going to pay for the other half!
“I meant that, Katie.”
His authoritative tone froze her hand in the act of slicing her meat.
“I forbid you to use any of your money either now or after we are married. It is to remain untouched in your bank in St. Louis.”
So determined was she to make her point that Katie forgot to be rankled by his use of the word “forbid.” “You don’t understand . . . I wouldn’t even miss the money. Besides the money I saved from my job, I have a trust fund my father established for me years ago, and some sort of profit-sharing account from his business. Both of those have huge balances. I wouldn’t have to touch the principal, I could just draw out some of the interest and—”
“No,” he said implacably. “I am not destitute. Even if I were, I would not accept your money. You have known my feelings on that from the beginning, have you not?”
“Yes,” Katie murmured.
He sighed, a harsh sound that was filled with an anger that Katie sensed was directed more at himself than her. “Katie, I have never tried to live on the income from the farm alone. I do not know yet how much money will be required to make the necessary improvements to the land so that every acre can become productive again. Once it is fully operational it will support us in reasonable comfort, but until then, whatever money I can spare must go into the land. That farm is the only security I can offer you; its needs must come before luxuries. It is humiliating for me to be explaining this to you now, after I have already brought you here. I thought you understood what sort of life I could offer you before you came.”
“I did, and I’m not worried about doing without luxuries.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“Nothing,” Katie lied, more determined than ever to use her money to help pay for the furnishings. Ramon was carrying the issue of pride too far! His attitude was unreasonable, unrealistic and positively antiquated—particularly if they were going to be married. But since he felt so deeply about the matter of her money, she simply would never tell him what she had done.
His expression gentled. “If you wish, you could put your money into trust for our children. I believe there are tax advantages to doing so.”
Children? Katie thought with a quickening of her heart that was part pleasure, part panic. At the rate Ramon was rushing her, she would undoubtedly have a baby within a year. Why did everything have to be happening so quickly? She remembered Rafael’s remark about hearing the banns read in church this morning, and her panic grew. She knew that banns had to be read on three consecutive Sundays before they could be married. By somehow arranging to have them begin today, Ramon had smoothly eliminated one week of the precious time Katie was counting on having before she had to make a final decision. She tried to concentrate on her meal, but she could hardly swallow. “Ramon, how did you manage to have the banns read here this morning, when we didn’t arrive until this afternoon?”
Something in her voice seemed to alert him to her inner turmoil. He shifted his plate aside, no longer bothering to make even a pretense of eating. Watching her with an intent, speculating gaze that was utterly unnerving, he said, “On Friday, while you were at work, I phoned Padre Gregorio and told him that we wished to be married here as soon as possible. He has known me since I was born; he knows there is no obstacle to my being married in the church. I assured him that there was no obstacle for you, either.
“When I had breakfast with your father earlier that morning, he gave me the name of his pastor, who also knows you. I gave that information to Padre Gregorio so that he could assure himself, if he wished to do so. It was as simple as that.”
Katie hastily looked away from his piercing stare, but not in time.
“Something about that displeases you,” he concluded dispassionately. “What is it?”
After a tense silence, Katie shook her head. “Nothing, really. I’m just a little surprised that it was all handled without my knowing anything about it.”
“It was not handled that way intentionally. I assumed your father had mentioned it, and he evidently assumed that you already knew.”
Katie’s hand trembled as she pushed her own plate aside. “Won’t Padre Gregorio need to meet with me—us, I mean—before he agrees to marry us?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ramon lit a thin cigar, then leaned back in his chair, regarding her attentively.
Katie ran a nervous hand over her red gold hair, smoothing nonexistent strands into place. “Please stop staring at me like that,” she whispered imploringly.
Turning to glance over his shoulder, Ramon nodded briefly at their waiter, signaling for the check. “It is difficult not to look at you, Katie. You are very beautiful. And very frightened.”
He said it so coolly, so unemotionally, that it was a long moment before Katie was certain she’d heard him correctly. By then it was too late for her to react; Ramon was already tossing money on the table, standing up, and coming around to assist her out of her chair.
In silence they walked out into a black satin night studded with brilliant stars, and crossed the deserted square. After the warmth of the afternoon sun, the evening breeze was surprisingly chilly as it teased the silken folds of Katie’s turquoise dress. She shivered, more from her bewildering emotions than from the cold. Ramon swung his jacket off his shoulder and draped it over her back.
As they passed the lovely old Spanish church, Ramon’s words echoed in Katie’s mind: “This is where we will be married.”
Fourteen days from today, it was possible that she would be walking out of that church as a bride.
Once before she had emerged from a church as a bride . . . except it had been a huge gothic edifice with limousines lined up on the street blocking Saturday traffic while they waited for the bridal party. David had stood beside her on the steps in the sunlight while the photographers took pictures; he in his splendid tuxedo and she in her magnificent white gown and veil. Then they had dashed through the throngs of cheering well-wishers, laughing as they dodged the showers of rice. David had been so handsome, and she had loved him so much that day. She had loved him so damned much!
Lights twinkled from the windows of the houses they passed as Katie walked beside Ramon down the little country road, her mind suddenly haunted by memories she had thought were buried.
David.
During the six months of their marriage he had kept her in a state of bewildered humiliation, and later, fear. Even during their short engagement, Katie had occasionally noticed his speculative glances at other women, but the times were few, and she managed her painful jealousy by reminding herself that David was thirty; he would think she was being childishly possessive. Besides, he was only looking at them. He would never actually be unfaithful.
They had been married for two months before Katie finally criticized him, and then it was only because she was so hurt and embarrassed that she couldn’t stop herself. They had been at a formal dinner-dance for the members of the Missouri Bar Association, where the attractive wife of a prominent Kansas City attorney captured David’s interest. The flirtation began over predinner cocktails, gathered force when they sat together at dinner, and burst into full bloom on the dance floor. Shortly thereafter, they vanished for nearly an hour and a half, and Katie was left to endure not only the pity of the people she knew, but the glowering fury of the woman’s own husband.
By the time David and she returned to their apartment, Katie’s insides were churning with resentment. David listened to her tearfully indignant outpouring, his hand clenching and flexing, but it was another four months before Katie discovered what that convulsive flexing of his hand presaged.
When she was finished, she expected him to either deny that he had done anything wrong, or else apologize for his behavior. Instead he stood up, passed a look of withering contempt over her, and went to bed.
His retaliation began the next day. Her punishment was meted out with the refined cruelty of a man who, on the surface, seemed to be simply tolerating her unwanted presence in his life, but who was really succeeding in mentally torturing her.
No real or imagined flaw in her face, figure, posture or personality escaped his notice or went unremarked. “Pleated skirts make your hips look even broader,” he observed impersonally. Katie protested that she didn’t have broad hips, but she enrolled in an exercise class just to be sure. “If you cut your hair short, your chin wouldn’t seem so prominent.” Katie protested that her chin wasn’t prominent, but she had her hair cut. “If you tightened up your knees, your rear end wouldn’t wiggle so much when you walk.” Katie tightened up her knees and wondered if she was still “wiggling.”
His eyes were never still, they followed her everywhere until Katie became so self-conscious she could hardly cross the room without bumping into a table or banging into a chair. That too, did not escape his notice. Neither did the meal she burned, nor the clothes she forgot to take to the cleaners, nor the dust she overlooked on the bookshelf. “Some women can handle a career and run a house,” David observed one night while she was polishing furniture. “Obviously you aren’t one of them. you’re going to have to give up your job.”
Looking back, Katie could not believe how easily he had manipulated her. For two weeks, David “worked late at the office.” When he was home, he shut her out completely. When he spoke to her at all, it was with cold ridicule or polite sarcasm. Katie tried repeatedly to patch their quarrel in every way she could think of, but David viewed her obvious efforts with freezing contempt. In two short weeks, he managed to reduce her to a piteous bundle of teary tension, and had her believing that she was clumsy, stupid and inept. But she had been only twenty-one then, and fresh out of college, while David was nine years older, very sophisticated and authoritative.
The thought of giving up her job broke her control. “But I love my job,” she had said, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“I thought you ‘loved’ your husband,” David had retorted coldly. He looked at her hands feverishly polishing the table. “I’m very fond of that Steuben bowl,” he drawled insolently. “Move it, before you knock it over.”
“I’m not going to knock it over,” Katie burst out, rounding on him in a tearful fury and knocking the valuable glass bowl off the table. It hit the floor with a sickening crash and broke. Katie was as broken as the bowl. She flung herself into David’s arms and burst into racking sobs. “I love you, David—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, lately. I’m so sorry. I’ll give up my job, and I’ll—”
David was avenged. All was forgiven. He patted her consolingly, told her that as long as she loved him that was all that mattered, and of course she didn’t have to give up her job. The sun beamed down upon her marriage again, and David was his thoughtful, considerate, charming self once more.
Four months later, Katie left her office early intending to surprise David with a special dinner to celebrate their six-month anniversary. She surprised him. He was in bed with the wife of his law firm’s senior partner, leaning back against the headboard casually smoking a cigarette, with the naked woman cradled in his free arm. Deadly calm washed over Katie, even though her stomach was twisting. “Since you’ve obviously finished,” she said quietly in the doorway, “I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of here. Both of you.”
She walked into the kitchen in a daze, took mushrooms out of the grocery bag and began slicing them for dinner. She sliced her finger twice without noticing the blood. Minutes later, David’s low, savage voice hissed behind her, “You little bitch, before tonight is over you’re going to learn some manners. Sylvia Conners’ husband happens to be my boss. Now get out there and apologize to her.”
“Go to hell,” Katie said in a voice strangled with pain and humiliation.
His hands dug viciously into her hair, snapping her head back. “I’m warning you, do as I say or it will only go harder on you when she leaves.”
Tears of tormented anguish filled Katie’s eyes, but she met his glittering gaze without flinching. “No.”
David let go of her and strolled into the living room. “Sylvia,” she heard him say, “Katie is sorry that she upset you, and she’ll apologize for her rudeness tomorrow. Come on, I’ll walk you down to your car.”
When they left the apartment, Katie walked woodenly into the bedroom she had shared with David and pulled her suitcases out of the closet. She was mechanically opening drawers and removing her clothing when she heard him return.
“You know, darling,” David said in a soft, silky voice from the doorway, “four months ago, I thought you learned never to make me angry. I tried to teach you the easy way, but evidently it didn’t work. I’m afraid this lesson will have to be a little more memorable.”
Katie looked up from her mindless packing and saw him calmly unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of its loops. Even her vocal cords froze with stark terror. “If you dare to touch me,” she said in a suffocated voice, “I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
David stalked her slowly across the bedroom, watching with malicious enjoyment as Katie backed away. “No you won’t. you’re going to cry very hard, and say you’re sorry, and tell me that you love me.”
He was right. Thirty minutes later, Katie was still screaming “I love you” into the pillow when the apartment door closed behind him.
She had no idea how much time passed before she dragged herself off the bed, pulled a coat on, picked up her purse and left the apartment. She had no recollection of driving to her parents’ house that night, nor did she ever return to the apartment.
David called her day and night, alternately trying to cajole and threaten her into coming back. He was deeply sorry; he had been under tremendous tension at the office with his case load; it would never happen again.
The next time she saw him she was with her lawyer in divorce court.
Katie glanced up as Ramon turned into a narrow dirt driveway. Straight ahead in the distance she could see light glowing against the hillside. Gabriella’s house, she assumed. She looked around at the surrounding hills, which were sprinkled with the twinkling lights from the other houses, some high, some low, some much farther away than others. It made the hills seem welcoming, like a safe harbor on a dark night. She tried to enjoy the sight, to concentrate on the present and the future, but the past refused to let go of her. It clutched at her, warning her. . . .
David Caldwell had not completely deceived her; she had let herself be deceived. Even at a naive, virginal twenty-one, she had sensed that he was not entirely the charming man he seemed to be. Subconsciously she had registered the controlled rage in his eyes when a waiter didn’t scurry fast enough in a restaurant; she had seen the clenching of his hands on the steering wheel when another driver didn’t move out of his way; she had even seen the veiled speculation in his eyes when he looked at another woman. She had suspected that he was not the man he wanted her to believe he was, but she had been in love and she had married him anyway.
Now she was on the verge of marrying Ramon, and she couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion that he wasn’t the man he wanted her to believe he was, either. He was like a puzzle whose pieces didn’t quite fit together. And he seemed so hesitant, so uninformative when she asked questions about him and his past. If he had nothing to hide, why was he so reluctant to talk about himself?
That brought a storm of argument from Katie’s heart. Just because Ramon didn’t like to talk about himself didn’t necessarily mean that he was concealing some sinister personality trait from her. David had loved talking about himself, so in that respect the two men were very different.
They were very different in every respect, Katie told herself firmly. Or were they?
She just needed some time to adjust to the idea of marrying again, she decided. Everything had happened so fast that she was panicking. In the next two weeks her irrational fear would leave her. Or would it?
Gabriella’s house was clearly in sight when Ramon abruptly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Why?” he demanded in a terse, frustrated voice. “Why are you so frightened?”
“I—I’m not,” Katie denied, startled.
“Yes,” he said harshly, “You are.”
Katie stared up at his moonlit face. Despite his harsh tone, there was gentleness in his eyes and calm strength in his features. David had been neither gentle nor strong. He had been a vicious coward. “I think it’s because everything seems to be happening so quickly,” she said with partial honestly.
His brows drew together into a frown. “Is it only the haste that worries you?”
Katie hesitated. She could not explain the source of her fear to him. She didn’t entirely understand it herself, at least not yet. “There’s so much to be done, and so little time to do it,” she prevaricated.
He sighed with relief as his hands slid up her arms, drawing her close against his heart. “Katie, I always intended for us to be married two weeks from today. Your parents will be here for the ceremony, and I will handle all the necessary arrangements. All you have to do between now and then is meet with Padre Gregorio.”
His velvety voice, his breath stirring her hair, the musky, masculine scent of his body, were all combining to work their magic on Katie. “Meet with Padre Gregorio to discuss the ceremony, you mean?” she asked, leaning back to look at him as his arms encircled her.
“No, to convince him of your suitability to become my wife,” Ramon corrected.
“Are you serious?” she breathed, her attention absorbed in the sensuous male lips slowly coming nearer and nearer to hers. Desire was beginning to course through Katie’s veins, sweeping aside her doubts and fears.
“Serious about you? You know I am,” he murmured, his mouth so close now that his warm breath mingled with hers.
“Serious about having to convince Padre Gregorio that I’d make a good wife for you?” she told his descending mouth.
“Yes,” he whispered huskily. “Now convince me.”
A hazy smile touched her lips as she curved a hand behind his head, bringing his mouth even closer to hers. “Are you going to be hard to convince?” she teased.
Ramon’s voice was hoarse with burgeoning passion. “I am going to try.”
Katie’s other hand glided up his chest in a deliberately tantalizing caress that made his muscles tense and his breath catch. “How long do you think it will take me to convince you?” she whispered seductively.
“About three seconds,” he murmured hotly.