The Spaniard's Love-Child Read Online Free Page B

more interested in long-term commitment than he was.
    It was conceivable their hair might be messy in the morning, but it was not Raul’s habit to spend the entire night with a woman. He rose early, and the idea of small talk over breakfast did not appeal to him.
    As if sensing his silent condemnation the diminutive redhead lifted her hand to push back the mesh of red-gold waves from a heart-shaped face. Raul, his attention momentarily diverted, was struck by the extreme slenderness of her small-boned wrist.
    Her hands, like her bare feet, were narrow and small, and, wearing those slightly ridiculous oversized pyjamas emblazoned with teddy bears, she didn’t actually look very much older or sophisticated than his rebellious niece. The woman seemed to possess chameleon-like qualities, but Raul knew Nell Rose could look very different.
    His mind drifted back to the day he had seen her on the beach with his brother. Her sleek, rounded curves had been revealed in a bikini of petite and provocative proportions. He had watched as she had stretched with lazy feline grace in the sun before rolling over to whisper something in his brother’s ear.
    Javier’s reply had made her set off down the beach with him in hot pursuit. He had caught up with her at the water’s edge. Raul had been able to hear her laughs and screams as Javier had picked her up, from where he had been standing in the sand dunes. When Javier had strode into the sea until they’d both been immersed by the waves, he had turned and walked swiftly away.
    It had been painful for him to see the brother he’d admired and respected making a fool of himself over a girl who’d been so obviously out for what she could get. A girl who’d been far too young for him. He’d only considered for a split second the clearly preposterous possibility that what had actually bothered him was the fact that Javier had seemed to be having so much fun being a fool.
    On the day of the funeral she had looked much more demure, but Raul had known what sort of woman lurked behind the modest suit and sweetly sad expression. The few tendrils of hair that had escaped the severe chignon had been bright against the back of the slim-fitting suit she hadworn, the light application of blusher along her cheekbones had served to emphasise her extreme pallor.
    Raul’s expression hardened as he dragged his mind back to the present and his eyes back to her face. Someone lacking his knowledge of her history would have been unable to reconcile this unsophisticated figure before him with a young woman who had at eighteen cleverly inveigled her way into a recently bereaved man’s home, bed and heart. To be able to disguise such ruthless self-interest behind a guileless façade would be truly an asset, he decided cynically.
    â€˜Miss Rose…’
    Did she, he wondered, cultivate that candid and rather unnervingly direct blue gaze? He saw an expression of impatience flicker in the cornflower-blue eyes; his own eyes narrowed.
    Raul was not unnerved, nor even intrigued by the wide-eyed stuff. His glance slid dismissively over the suggestion of slight curves beneath the voluminous nightgear. No doubt there were men whose chivalrous instincts were aroused by such fragility, but his instincts, protective or otherwise, were not excited by this style of delicate vulnerability.
    â€˜Keep your voice down,’ she hissed, glancing over her shoulder.
    Raul, unaccustomed to being on the other end of an order, stiffened in astonishment to hear the terse note of command in her low-pitched voice.
    â€˜Are the children ready?’
    â€˜No, they’re not.’ Nell smiled to take the sting out of her admission as she struggled to maintain her composure, at least outwardly.
    Inside she did not have the luxury of pretence; the instant she had laid eyes on him standing there like some avengingangel on her doorstep every protective instinct she possessed had awoken. So