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Latin Lovers

Passionate Spaniards

The Spaniard’s Marriage Demand

Maggie Cox

Kept by the Spanish Billionaire

Cathy Williams

The Spanish Doctor’s Convenient Bride

Meredith Webber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Spaniard’s Marriage Demand

Maggie Cox

About the Author

The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loves most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man, is the mother of two wonderful sons and her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.

PROLOGUE

THE sun on the back of Isabella’s head was like a laser beam of burning heat. Forced out of the stupor of her shocked thoughts by the discomfort, she got up from the couch and pulled down the fashionable bamboo blinds at the window behind her to introduce some much-needed shadow into the room. Summer had hit the UK with a vengeance and the pavement outside was hot enough to double up as a griddle. But even as she padded barefoot across the cool laminate flooring to return to the couch all Isabella could really focus on was the astounding revelation that she was pregnant. The results of the pregnancy test she’d just done, plus the tiredness and nausea she’d been suffering from for over a week now, were incontrovertible. Of all the unbelievably reckless, heart-stopping situations she could have returned from her trip abroad to face, this was one cataclysmic scenario she hadn’t foreseen.

Trying to calm the throb of panic and wave of sickness that added to her already escalating anxiety, she leapt up again from her seat and fled to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, a cup of soothing chamomile tea at her elbow and a cool washcloth applied to the back of her heated neck, Isabella reviewed her situation with an acceptance and determination that stunned even her. Her passionate interlude with a handsome and famous son of Spain had resulted in her finding herself pregnant with his child. As she stoically assured herself she had all the necessary resources to cope alone and cope well she forced herself to resist the deep river of fear that was underlying her determined optimism, threatening to wreck everything. An ache for him—an earnest, bone-deep, silent plea that had surfaced before when she’d had to say goodbye to the man who had ‘interrupted’ her trip with the most profound impact—suddenly reinstated itself deep in Isabella’s core and she knew even then …it would probably be her companion for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER ONE

May 2004—The Port of Vigo, Northern Spain.

‘No! I don’t care what you say to me or even if you never speak to me again, Emilia, but I’m not going to break off my own research for my book and hare off to God only knows where in pursuit of some surly, egocentric film director who may or may not be where you say he’ll be and most certainly wouldn’t give me an impromptu interview even if I professed to be dying!’

Sucking in a deep, irritated breath following her passionate tirade to her sister over the phone, Isabella tapped her fingernails impatiently on the hotel reception desk where she’d taken the call and sensed a trickle of sweat meander slowly down her back. It felt like warm glue. It might be raining yet again but the dead heat was relentless. Right now she’d sell her soul for a cool shower and a cold drink followed by a lie down in her very plain but peaceful little room to gather her thoughts and perhaps catch a nap before doing some work. She’d been walking all day interviewing pilgrims on the famous route to Santiago de Compostela. Her back ached and her feet hurt but she was buoyed up by the companionship and enthusiasm of the pilgrims and after a rest was eager to get some writing done for her book. What Isabella most certainly didn’t want was to fly off on some wild-goose chase in search of a man who apparently protected his privacy with the same level of heightened awareness and suspicion that security at international airports applied to their passenger checks these days. All because her beseeching, impulsive and ruthlessly ambitious sister saw an opportunity for an exclusive for her magazine.

‘Please, Isabella …you can’t not do this for me! You’re right in the Port of Vigo in the same damn town as Leandro Reyes on the one and only day he’s there on a speaking engagement and I’m pleading with you to do me this one huge favour! What do I have to do to convince you? Look …I’ll pay you any amount of money you want …just name your price.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Emilia! I don’t want money! All I want is to be left alone to get on with my trip in peace!’

Her sister’s desperation was getting ridiculous, but then Emilia was hardly used to being denied anything. She was definitely the blue-eyed girl in their family. Three years younger than Isabella, she was the result of their mother’s marriage to Hal Deluce—an amiable American she had met on a cruise round the Bahamas that she’d taken a year after Isabella’s own father had died. Consequently Emilia had been credited a ‘wonderful omen of better things to come’ and since the day of her birth could do no wrong. On the other hand, a lot of unfair expectation had been laid on Isabella’s shoulders simply because she was the eldest …expectations that she’d ultimately always known she would fail. An expensive wedding financed and arranged by her parents being a case in point. Isabella hadn’t been able to go through with that particular scenario because she’d discovered at the eleventh hour that the relationship she’d had with her fiancé had been a complete and utter sham.

In contrast, the words ‘failure’ and ‘Emilia’ would never be used in the same sentence as far as her parents were concerned. Along with her thriving career as a journalist on one of the top-selling woman’s magazines, she had married a handsome young stockbroker from a family who were practically landed gentry and had recently cemented her unchallenged position as ‘she who can do no wrong’ by moving into a rather grand house in Chelsea, where she rubbed shoulders with some of the glitterati she wrote about in her magazine. In their mother’s view, their youngest had definitely ‘arrived’, whilst Isabella was still travelling.

Philosophical about it because she had to be, Isabella still couldn’t deny that sometimes it hurt to be the one that hadn’t quite ‘made it’. And, because of her high standing in the family, sometimes Emilia’s demands on the generosity and good nature of those who cared about her could almost border on the totally unreasonable. Like now—when she knew that Isabella was in Northern Spain specifically to research her book and meet the challenge of a five-hundred-mile pilgrimage covering from fifteen to twenty miles a day on foot over Northern Spain’s dusty mesas. She wasn’t on holiday or pursuing something ‘frivolous’ …she was working as well as walking.

That was not to say that Isabella didn’t totally love what she was doing. Right now researching the Santiago de Compostela and why people sought to undertake the five-week-long trail, and actually walking it herself—she was in seventh heaven. That was why she didn’t want to get distracted by something like this totally unexpected telephone request from Emilia.

‘Don’t you understand, Em? I’m working! I’ve taken a three-month career break from the library to do this and I don’t want to waste even a second. I’ve been hiking all day, it’s hot, I’m tired, I’ve got blisters on my feet the size of sumo wrestlers and I need to get some rest before working on into the night and walking again tomorrow. You’re a resourceful woman—if you found out that Leandro Reyes is in Vigo today then I’m sure you can manage to find out where he’ll be tomorrow! I’m sorry, but I can’t help you …I really can’t.’

There was a deep frustrated sigh at the other end of the line that spoke volumes. It said, If you don’t do this for me then it proves you’ve let this family down again. It also said, I thought you were my sister? I thought you cared about me? Now I can see that you obviously don’t.

A stab of unhelpful guilt wove its nefarious way down Isabella’s already suffering spine and she bit her lip to stop herself from automatically changing her last statement to a more agreeable one.

Stealing an agitated glance at her watch, she lifted her eyes to the small, winding stone staircase where her plain, peaceful room tantalisingly beckoned. She hadn’t even unpacked her rucksack yet. She’d been about to do just that when she’d had the call from Emilia. Isabella had given all the phone numbers of where she’d sometimes be staying ahead of her travels to her mother. That was on the odd occasion when she was staying in small cheap hotels and not the refugios and monasteries widely used by the pilgrims. Now after this call from her sister, Isabella had cause to wish she’d told nobody in her family where she would be.

‘I’d sell my house to get any information I could on Leandro Reyes, Isabella! When I found out from Mum that you were due in the Port of Vigo today I got so excited! I only heard last night that he was going to be there and I’ve got several crucial meetings lined up this afternoon or else I would have flown out there to try and see him myself. It’s too late now even if I could get a flight …as far as I know he’s only planning on being there for the evening. This means so much to me, sis …to my career. Leandro Reyes is a God amongst art-house film directors! Most feature writers would sell their soul to interview him! Please try and get to meet him …please! Even if you get only one or two sound bites it wouldn’t matter. At least you’d get some good impressions of the man himself that I could embellish for the magazine!’

Isabella’s heart sank. Emilia worked for a supposedly respectable upmarket glossy, but they still weren’t above ‘dishing the dirt’ on a star or a celebrity if the opportunity arose. That kind of sensationalist tabloid journalism was despicable in Isabella’s opinion. She knew it was naïve, but couldn’t they leave these people alone? Everyone was entitled to some privacy …even much-lauded and sought-after film directors, in her opinion. Especially ones like Leandro Reyes who—she’d heard somewhere or another—had a reputation for being almost spectacularly reclusive and enigmatic. Her heart bumped a little at the idea of even being in the same sphere as a man like that—never mind trying to get him to talk to her! Swallowing over the dryness of her parched throat and quite desperate for a drink, Isabella caught the curious gaze of the elderly plump Spanish matriarch bedecked in black behind the small reception desk and politely smiled. ‘I have to go now, Emilia. I need a shower and a drink and then I—’

‘I’m begging you, Isabella! Leandro will be at the Paradisio. It’s one of the more discreet places in the Port and he’s meeting a colleague there for a drink.’

‘I suppose I’m wasting my time asking you where you get your information from?’

‘If you must know I was at a film première last night and at the party afterwards I overheard a conversation between a couple of Americans in the film business who’d just done some work with Leandro. They happened to mention that he had a speaking engagement today at a local college and was meeting a mutual friend of theirs afterwards in the Port of Vigo for drinks. He’ll be there from seven o’clock onwards. Ring me at home tonight after you’ve seen him. I’ll wait up to get your call. Thanks, sis …you’re an angel! I knew I could count on you!’

‘Don’t you know that it’s not ethical to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?’

‘Oh, get real, Isabella! You and your high-minded principles!’

Letting that comment ride, Isabella lifted up some hair from the back of her heated neck where it coiled damply in silken black strands. ‘But how will I know what he even looks like?’ Reclusive art house directors weren’t photographed with the constancy of someone like Stephen Spielberg, Isabella was sure.

‘He’s six foot one of pure trained muscle with dark hair and eyes the colour of polished slate and not surprisingly the most sought-after bachelor in the business. Trust me …you won’t be able to miss him!’

Before Isabella could draw another breath, the receiver at the other end was swiftly replaced and the line ominously hummed its disconnection signal in her ear instead.

As Leandro Reyes glanced round at the almost empty bar, the back of his neck crawled with slight unease. Alphonso should have shown up half an hour ago …that had been their arrangement. His fellow director and friend had wanted to meet urgently, he’d said, to discuss a project he had been offered and wanted Leandro’s professional opinion on. When he’d discovered Leandro would be in the vicinity today—en route to his house in Pontevedra after his speaking engagement—he had suggested they meet at the Paradisio to talk. It was a quiet, out of the way place where no one would bother them and the owner of the small bar had promised to provide food if they were hungry. At the thought of food, Leandro’s empty belly obligingly grumbled. He might as well sit it out until Alphonso finally showed his face—if he was going to show it at all—and in the meantime he could have something to eat and think about his own overloaded schedule for the next six months. A waiter appeared almost as soon as Leandro got to his feet and it left him wondering if the man had been spying on him. He smiled secretly at his own paranoia then placed his order for some seafood—something that the port restaurants and bars naturally excelled in.

‘Sí, Señor Reyes. It will be my pleasure.’

‘Grazias.’

Slightly inclining his head, Leandro made his way slowly back to the table he’d briefly vacated. An elderly man a few tables away from him looked up from his newspaper and smiled courteously. The edges of Leandro’s mouth moved only infinitesimally upwards in a return gesture. He wasn’t accustomed to giving his smiles easily. Glancing out through the arched stone windows that overlooked a small neat patio area with various plants dotted around—some better tended to than others—he noticed a woman approach in the twilight. Something about her seemed hesitant …unsure—as if she wasn’t entirely certain that she had found what she’d been searching for. Aside from the fact that she was more than pretty enough to command his full attention, Leandro speculated on her reason for being there. Was she meeting her lover, perhaps? His stomach tightened with a surprising flash of jealousy at the thought.

As she came in through the opened doorway he saw that her beguiling attractiveness pleasurably increased on close quarters. As far as he could tell, her eyes were dark as Columbian roast coffee—with long sable hair in a pony-tail to match—yet her complexion was surprisingly fair. Something told him that she was not Spanish. A tourist perhaps? She was dressed in faded jeans and a loose white shirt—not dissimilar to Leandro’s own garb—and her presence brought a distinct breath of cool, fresh air into the small overheated bar. Waiting to be served, she frowned when the bar’s owner did not immediately appear. Glancing round, she settled her somewhat anxious gaze with startling intent upon Leandro. He felt the impact of that searching gaze ignite a powerful little flame of want deep inside him—this time Leandro’s smile was not so reticent.

Alphonso was either late or not coming at all and so what would it hurt to entice this raven-haired beauty with her big dark eyes into having a little conversation with him to help while the time away?

‘The bar owner is busy,’ he offered in flawless Spanish. Then, when she frowned, Leandro quickly deduced she didn’t understand. ‘Are you meeting somebody?’ he asked, switching effortlessly to English.

‘No …I mean …I mean perhaps.’

Twin circles of scarlet added fetching colour to her otherwise pale beauty. So she was a tourist …an English tourist since there was no trace of any other accent in her soft appealing voice. Leandro’s attention was trapped as thoroughly as a lynx caught in a snare.

‘You are unsure if you are meeting someone?’ he asked teasingly.

‘Not exactly …I mean …can I talk to you?’ Lowering her voice, the intriguing young woman came nearer and with her brought the haunting scent of jasmine. There are other things besides talking I would like to do with you, mi ángel … Leandro thought silently, his senses unbelievably stirred as he considered her arrestingly pretty face.

‘I—this is very awkward and I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but …are you Leandro Reyes?’

So …she was not an ‘innocent’ tourist at all! Disappointment bit hard. She was either an opportunist actress looking hopefully for a chance to get into the movies—something that happened with more frequency than Leandro cared to catalogue—or else a reporter. Gut instinct told him it was probably the latter choice. What a pity! If he didn’t dislike journalists with such a vengeance he would have been only too happy to entertain this beautiful young woman all night. As it was, he now saw her presence as a contemptible intrusion into his fiercely guarded privacy. How the hell had she found him here? He did not recognise her from amongst the students at the college he’d spoken at earlier today, so how had she discovered his whereabouts?

‘That is not your concern,’ he replied coolly, the shutters clearly coming down over his sensational silver-grey eyes.

At that moment Isabella could have strangled her own sister. What had Emilia persuaded her to do? She wasn’t the type of person who intruded on anyone’s privacy and even if she recognised someone famous in the street or in public somewhere, she’d be the last person to bother them! Now this Leandro Reyes—this esteemed film director who protected his privacy with a notoriously zealous verve—was looking at her as if she were a fly he would like to swat out of his eye-line!

‘I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you—’ Isabella unconsciously licked her upper lip to stop it from quivering ‘—but I truly meant no offence. I knew this was a bad idea but I’m afraid I acted against my better judgement. I should never have come over to you …please forgive me.’ She turned away, her intention to leave this place as quickly as possible and put the embarrassing memory behind her. When she rang Emilia later on tonight she wasn’t half going to give her a piece of her mind! She must have been insane to even think she might pull off such a thing as garner an interview with this man! She’d seen the disparaging glance he’d swept her with only too clearly. He’d probably been disturbed by unscrupulous journalists and reporters too many times to give them anything but the lash of his tongue—let alone an interview!

‘Wait a moment.’

His voice, throaty and at the same time as richly beguiling as brandy warmed over a flame, halted Isabella in her tracks. ‘What publication do you work for?’

‘I don’t.’

Turning round slowly again, Isabella looped some loose strands from her pony-tail behind her ear. The cool grey eyes of Leandro Reyes were surveying her with suspicion and deep mistrust. Just then Isabella would rather be stranded in the deep snows of Siberia than having to endure his terrifying scrutiny.

‘What do you mean …you don’t?’

‘I mean I’m not a journalist myself. I’m in Spain researching a book I’m writing. And I only came to find you because my sister, who works for a—a women’s magazine in the UK, rang me when she knew I would be here in the Port of Vigo the same time as you, Señor Reyes.’

‘So it is your sister who wants to interview me for her magazine?’

‘That’s right. Once again, I can only offer my apologies for intruding like th—’

‘How did she know that I would be here today? Where did she get her information from?’

How could she tell him that Emilia had overheard a private conversation? It would surely damn both her and her sister in his eyes. Isabella’s desire to escape the scathing cynosure of this disturbing man grew almost unbearable even though she told herself his acute irritation was justified. Right now she should be back at the little hotel she was staying in, closeted in her room making notes from her talks with some of the pilgrims earlier today—not acting like some ill-equipped spy on behalf of her sister! This disturbing and unwanted encounter had totally set her back and it was going to take all her concentration to even write her name, let alone anything more challenging tonight!

‘I’m sorry, but you’d have to talk to my sister about that. Please accept my apologies for disturbing you, Señor Reyes. I told my sister it was a bad idea at the time but she can be very persuasive …unfortunately.’ Grimacing and slightly ashamed that she’d confessed as much, Isabella started to walk away again. Once more, Leandro stopped her in her tracks.

‘So …you are a writer? Are you published?’

‘No …not yet. At the moment I work as a librarian but it’s always been my ambition to write books full time.’

‘And this book you are working on …is it a work of fiction?’

For a moment Isabella was so mesmerised by the hypnotic concentration of this man’s quixotic gaze that thinking was no easy feat. In fact, her thoughts felt like incomprehensible words on a Scrabble board that had been completely muddled up!

‘No …it’s not. I’m—I’m writing about the pilgrims who walk the Camino Way to Santiago de Compostela. My grandfather was Spanish, you see, and he told me so many stories about it that it’s always been my ambition to come here and experience it for myself.’

Leandro found his temper irrevocably easing as he studied the girl in genuine surprise. The Camino de Santiago de Compostela—The Way of Saint James—was very important to him and his family—to all the people in this region of Northern Spain. Many had walked it in their turn and received blessings that they talked about to this day. Perhaps this pretty young woman with her soulful ebony coloured eyes and her milk-and-honey skin was not cut from the same cloth as those ‘kill for a story’ reporters that were sometimes a plague on his industry. Could it not be possible that she had more integrity than that? Leandro wanted to believe so even if his mistrustful nature advised against it. She had to possess some good qualities if she was writing about the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage. Warring within himself to give her the benefit of the doubt, Leandro decided to relent—telling himself that he would find out soon enough if she was the genuine article or not.

‘So …you are walking the Camino yourself?’ he asked intrigued.

‘Yes, I am …but I’ve also been stopping for a day or two at a time to talk to other pilgrims for research for my book and do some writing. I’ve heard some truly inspirational stories so far and I’ve got loads of wonderful material to work with!’ Almost guiltily catching the full force of his piercing examining gaze, Isabella bore his investigation with mounting trepidation, then let loose a sigh. ‘Anyway …I should go and leave you in peace. I have plenty of notes to write up and I must get on. I’m very pleased to have met you, Señor Reyes.’

‘If that is true, then you should not be in such a hurry to leave …no?’ He pushed the legs of the wooden chair opposite him at the table with one booted foot so that they scraped along the terracotta floor tiles towards her, making Isabella jump. Her cheeks flooded with heat and Leandro smiled at her with a lazily confident air that said he knew she would not think of refusing his invitation to stay. But inside Isabella was torn. Now that she’d got what she’d wanted—or what Emilia had wanted—the whole scenario had left her with a bad taste in her mouth and all she wanted to do was go back to the hotel and look over her notes. She also had a long day’s walking ahead of her tomorrow and it was probably wiser to just get some rest.

‘I …I’m sorry but I have to go.’

Emilia would kill her for blowing such an opportunity to talk to the enigmatic director but that was just too bad. She wouldn’t impose on this man one second longer than she could help it, Isabella decided.

‘What is your name?’ Leandro asked her, seeing her sudden indecision.

‘Isabella Deluce.’

‘Isabella? Like our famous queen …Well, Isabella …’ The way his tongue rolled the syllables of her name made it sound like the most shockingly intimate caress and she shivered almost violently. ‘I will talk to you about the Camino and the pilgrimage, but my private and professional life are strictly out of bounds …Is that clear?’

Swallowing down her shock at his words, Isabella smoothed her hand nervously down the front of her jeans. ‘Yes, of course …but you’d really talk to me about the Camino?’

‘I have said so, have I not?’

Leandro’s mercurial eyes skimmed down Isabella’s body in her white cotton shirt and light blue jeans and lingered for a moment on the long, shapely legs that she had inadvertently drawn his attention to with her restless hand. He lifted his gaze back up to her flushed and lovely face with its arresting little dimple in her chin with undeniable satisfaction.

‘Now come and sit down,’ he ordered huskily, his tone allowing no opportunity for dissent. ‘We will talk about the Camino and you can tell me some of your impressions so far. Have you eaten yet?’

‘No …but I can easily get something when I return to my hotel.’

‘Then please join me …I have already ordered some seafood and Señor Varez, the owner of the bar, will no doubt provide me with far too much to eat alone. I think we must also have some wine …I have found in my experience that wine definitely assists the conversation to flow.’

When Isabella still hesitated to take the chair Leandro proffered, his lips split into a wide provocative grin.

‘Do not look so alarmed, pretty Isabella …I may look quite the pirate with my long hair and unshaven jaw, but I assure you that I do not intend to throw you over my shoulder and take you back to my cabin to ravish you …unless of course you have a secret desire that I do just that!’

CHAPTER TWO

ISABELLA found herself lowering her body into the sturdy wooden chair opposite Leandro with her limbs trembling—a small riot going on inside her at the fact that he had made such a disturbingly unexpected and risqué comment. Glancing into his now twinkling grey eyes and the surprising dimples either side of his sensual mouth, she remembered her sister’s comment about him …

He’s six foot one of pure trained muscle with dark hair and eyes the colour of polished slate.

Now she saw that even that description didn’t do him justice. He was absolutely right. He did look a bit like a pirate—but a modern-day, rather bohemian one than his perhaps coarser counterpart from another century. And in spite of his casual clothing and long shoulder-length hair—indicative perhaps of a somewhat bohemian sensibility—Leandro Reyes also had an air of authority about him that said you’d be wrong to assume his morals or values were equally ‘unconventional’.

Now that he’d insisted she stay and Isabella was actually going to have a conversation with him, she wished hard that she knew more about him. Her knowledge of his films or any of his other achievements was scant and that vaguely embarrassed her—even though Emilia had sprung this whole event upon her out of the blue. Isabella loved going to the movies and her leaning was definitely more towards the kind of thought-provoking films that directors like Leandro were famous for, but she’d never actually seen one of his films as far as she could recall. Like her beloved grandfather, Isabella’s first love was books and, though it might have been a disappointment to them, it had been no surprise to her family when she’d opted to train as a librarian instead of something that carried a bit more professional kudos. And now, even though Isabella aspired to be an author, they clearly viewed this pursuit as a bit of a ‘fool’s mission’ as well as being certain that she wouldn’t make any money out of it.

‘Now I have made you blush!’ Leandro teased, clearly enjoying her apparent discomfort at his playfully taunting words. ‘Have I embarrassed you, pretty Isabella?’

‘No, Señor Reyes.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, yes …a little. I think I would just prefer our talk to be concentrated on the pilgrimage, if you don’t mind.’ Wanting desperately to divert his teasing because it would be the most disturbing distraction from his storytelling, Isabella tried to assume a more comfortable position in her chair. She also didn’t want him to imagine that she was one of those easily flattered women who would welcome and even encourage his flirtatious remarks.

‘Leandro …my name is Leandro and if we are to spend the evening together talking then I must insist that you call me that and not Senor Reyes …sí?’ Before he could examine further the surprise in her distractingly alluring dark eyes, Señor Varez addressed him from the bar. He had a telephone call. Leandro didn’t doubt that it was Alphonso explaining why he had been held up. Smiling at Isabella as he rose up from the table, he found he was no longer impatient for his friend to arrive …not now that he had a more interesting diversion. When he returned from taking the call only minutes later he shrugged as he lowered his tall, muscular frame back into his chair, his movements fluid and unhurried.

‘My meeting is cancelled so now you may talk to me at your leisure, Isabella.’ He leaned forward a little, his expression becoming serious. ‘But just for the record—I would prefer it if what we discussed stayed just between us and did not get published in your sister’s magazine. You may use what I say to help you with your book, but that is all. I have to have your utmost agreement about this otherwise we cannot proceed.’

‘Of course …and thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’

To his complete surprise Leandro found that the prospect of spending the evening with this young woman was one that he definitely looked forward to, despite his cautious nature urging him to be careful of revealing too much—even inadvertently. Apart from her looks—which were a definite magnet—there was something about her that prompted in him a deep curiosity. And there was caution in her eyes too …Leandro recognised it. He wondered what or who had put it there. On the whole, she seemed a charming mixture of woman and child and he hoped he would not come to regret breaking with precedence by giving her a small window into his thoughts and beliefs about the Camino.

But apart from his undeniable fascination for his unexpected dinner companion, he was also concerned to hear from Alphonso that his wife, Perdita, had left him and that was the reason he had postponed their meeting. So many of his friends seemed to be having marital problems these days and frankly Leandro was glad not to have that particular issue dog his life. He was quite happy to be unattached and free from entanglement. Especially as the one and only time he’d fallen in love it had left him bruised and angry when his lover had betrayed him with another man, as well as fuelling his belief that once trust was broken it was almost impossible to regain it. One day he would marry—because a man should have children, as his father was always telling him—but right now Leandro’s work came first. Film-making was his total passion and every day he thanked God that he was blessed with the good fortune to be able to make it his career. But that said …neither could he resist the demands of the hot Latin blood running in his veins. And, yes, beautiful intelligent woman were a potential weakness. Especially when they were as highly attractive as the sweet, dark-eyed señorita sitting opposite him …

Isabella told herself that she should be more concerned about writing up her notes and getting some rest this evening rather than talking to this surprising and fascinating film director. But she justified her staying put in her chair by telling herself she was bound to discover a wealth of useful information about the pilgrimage and the region by listening to this man. It would be absolutely invaluable for her research.

‘So …you want to know about Santiago de Compostela?’ Leandro smiled enigmatically and Isabella’s muscles tensed in excited expectation.

‘I would love to,’ she replied softly, her eyes shining.

Time passed, and, fortified by a generous glass of the local Albarino wine and the biggest dish of shellfish Isabella had ever seen served anywhere, including the national delicacy, pulpo—Octopus—she found herself becoming thoroughly and effortlessly enchanted by the history and mythology of the area that Leandro revealed to her. He reiterated for her the popular belief that the bones of the apostle St James lay interred beneath the altar of Santiago’s great Spanish Baroque Cathedral—hence the reason for the pilgrimage—and regaled her with some haunting tales of the morriña. The morriña was noted for being a particular kind of melancholic mood that could descend on people, and the wildly powerful Atlantic storms that took place in the region were regarded to be the main cause of it. It was something that the Galicians shared with the Celtic people of Ireland.

At the end of two hours, Isabella had written nothing down but had, hopefully instead, consigned most of Leandro’s powerful stories about the Camino to memory. Meeting him had been an unexpected and exciting bonus to her trip and some part of her silently acknowledged that perhaps fate had taken a hand and steered her towards this man for a very good reason. She wouldn’t be the first person to experience miracles on this pilgrimage—not by a long shot. Not once had Leandro spoken about himself, his family or his illustrious career and even though she realised he was actively guarding his privacy, Isabella was impressed that he apparently had no need to exercise his ego in that regard by heralding his triumphs. She could have listened to him for ever …His voice was like a warm, protective blanket tucked round her on a cold stormy night and was as compelling as his seriously haunting good looks and the deliciously long, slow glances he gave her that aroused and heated her blood with undeniable force. Isabella was more intoxicated by him than if she’d drunk a whole bottle of Albarino wine by herself. His exceedingly relaxed delivery of his stories was also deceptive because the passion in his voice was unmistakable. It suggested the kind of passion that a woman secretly craved and despaired of ever finding. A passion that spoke of excitement, discovery and, yes, danger too …and would undoubtedly be as strongly addictive as the most powerful opiate.

Just sitting listening to Leandro had made Isabella think about the polar opposite of feeling she had experienced with her ex-fiancé, Patrick. That was why—even though he’d let her down badly by commenting on the most intimate aspects of their relationship with a friend in a rather ribald manner that Isabella had unfortunately overheard—ultimately she’d known they had no future together. It was why, only two days before the wedding, she had finally decided against tying herself to such a disloyal man and realised she’d rather remain single for the rest of her life than risk a marriage that would leach all the joy out of her over time.

There was a sudden crash from outside as a powerful gust of wind upended a metal chair onto its side. The spell Leandro had woven around Isabella with his storytelling was abruptly broken by the harsh grating sound. As the forceful breeze roared louder and heavy rain started to pelt the cobbled streets like a downpour of small stones Isabella reluctantly reflected that she really ought to be getting back to her hotel. She was quite used to the frequent bouts of rain by now and getting drenched was not her biggest concern. At any rate she’d soon dry off when she got back to her room. Touching her napkin to her lips, she dropped it back onto her plate and reached for the canvas shoulder-bag she’d left on the floor beside her chair, willing time to stand still so that she could stay right where she was for ever and listen to Leandro relate more of his entrancing stories.

Glancing anxiously at the windows as Señor Varez hurried round closing the shutters against the noisy howl of the wind, Isabella bit down on her lip—a desperate hollow ache inside her at the thought that when she walked out of the door in a couple of minutes’ time she would never see Leandro Reyes again.

Trying to hide her regret, she offered him a brief but grateful smile. ‘I don’t know how to begin to thank you for giving me such a valuable opportunity to talk to you, Señor Reyes—’

‘Leandro,’ her companion insisted with unapologetic authority, his piercing grey-eyed gaze at that moment shredding her composure to bits as he concentrated it very intently on her. ‘You are not leaving already? Apart from the fact that it is pouring with rain, you have barely told me anything about yourself! And I still do not know why you are walking the Camino …It is not just because of your book I am sure.’

He had known for a good hour or more that he did not want her to leave. He realised that he had commandeered most of the dialogue between them and now wanted to allow her to make up for the deficit, as well as powerfully desiring to extend the time they spent together. She was an unusual woman and Leandro felt his interest in her growing. Not once had she flirted with him or cast her eyes at him in a seductive manner, as most women given the opportunity to be alone with him would have. Especially knowing who he was.

To be honest, Isabella’s lack of feminine response to him as a man had seriously started to perturb Leandro, because he was definitely experiencing some very powerful male stirrings as he continued to rest his gaze on her. At one point she had put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands as she’d listened enthralled to a story he’d told about a vision of an angel a friend of his had had whilst undertaking the pilgrimage, and her bewitching gaze had been so focused and enraptured that Leandro had almost lost the thread of his story. Privately he’d begun to examine the beguiling contours of her lovely face with increasing delight.

The wine he had imbibed had undoubtedly helped mellow his mood, but he had already decided before he’d even drunk half a glass that he would not continue on his way to his house in Pontevedra tonight. No, he would stay in Vigo and make his way home tomorrow morning instead. His plan was to take a couple of days out to read manuscripts and catch up with paperwork before travelling back to Madrid to embark on his next project.

The look Isabella gave him in return for his comment definitely seemed to demonstrate her surprise that he would want to have her talk about herself.

‘I’m not bothered about the rain …I’ve got used to it. It’s kind of you to be interested in my book, but, to tell you the truth, I’ve had a long day’s walking,’ she replied apologetically, ‘and I was intending on making an early start in the morning. But thank you again for everything …for the food and wine and wonderful stories about the Camino.’

To his amusement and surprise she offered Leandro her hand. He glanced at it for only a moment before raising it to his lips and softly kissing the exquisitely satin skin that smelt so alluringly of jasmine. The hard muscled wall of his stomach tightened like an iron band encircling him as desire flared with the force of an incendiary and the heat it generated in him almost made him vocalise his pleasure out loud.

‘As unexpected as it was, you have accorded me much pleasure with your company tonight, Isabella …truly. But perhaps we can rectify the fact that I have learned so little about you, hmm? I have decided not to make my onward journey home to Pontevedra tonight after all. There is already a storm outside and it will only get worse, I am sure—not the best conditions for driving in. I was going to suggest we go somewhere else for the night and continue our conversation there? A friend of mine has a place not far from here. I can make a phone call and get a car to pick us up. We can be there in no time.’

He was—according to Emilia—one of the most famous film directors in all of Spain and he was suggesting that Isabella go with him to a place owned by a friend of his and spend the night there? As she considered the hand he had just kissed with its still-electrifying impression of the warmth of his lips and the brush of his beard her mind seemed incapable of forming a reply.

‘Isabella?’

In the absence of an answer, Leandro frowned, his high cheekbones and fascinating eyes leaving an indelible imprint on Isabella that she wouldn’t relinquish in a lifetime.

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to spend the night with me …you understand?’

He could ask the question in a dozen different languages and, from the almost fierce, hot look in his electrifying gaze, Isabella could not fail to comprehend his meaning. The question was …what should she do about it? In some secret hopeful, delighted place inside of her the decision was already made. Yet still Isabella fought against the powerful heated undertow, terrified of being overwhelmed by it—of being too reckless and living to regret it …Not because she didn’t desire Leandro—but because she desired him almost too much.

‘I understand perfectly. But I’m afraid that can’t be, Leandro.’ She dipped her head, feeling her face flame red beneath his mocking examination. Surely her lack of sophistication would only amuse him? ‘I’m here to walk the Camino. That really has to be my focus.’

At her unexpected, soft-voiced repudiation of his suggestion Leandro wanted Isabella even more. The wanting was akin to the slow, heavy heat that made a person tense and expectant for that heart-jolting crash of thunder just before a storm. In the end you longed for the release. That longing dictated that he couldn’t let her go—that any move she made to put any kind of distance between them would have to be diverted because now he was determined to have her at all costs. His friend Benito’s hotel was just a few kilometres away. The man was one of Leandro’s oldest friends and implicitly understood his need for privacy. There would be no danger of the paparazzi getting wind that he was staying there. Leandro would have all night to seduce Isabella and enjoy her company. Now the idea had entered his head, it quickly became a fixation. ‘I want you to come with me. Now that it comes down to it, I find I cannot let you go.’

As seductive and flattering as his declaration was, Isabella knew she could not simply succumb to his request because he had expressed it so forcefully. Did she really want to risk having her heart broken by this man? Because right now, from where she was standing, that was a distinct possibility. She’d never met a man who was so hard to resist and frankly it scared the daylights out of her. Especially so since she was still feeling vulnerable over the mistake she’d made over Patrick.

‘I really can’t stay, Leandro.’ Isabella’s throat tightened unbearably. ‘I need to get back to my hotel before—’

‘I do not accept that you cannot stay!’

He crushed her mouth beneath his own, in that blind, heated moment of desire, not caring that he might bruise her too tender lips or scratch her delicate skin with his beard-roughened jaw. All Leandro knew was that the need to touch her was a compulsion he could not resist …The need to feel her soft, womanly body in his arms and breathe in all the utterly feminine scents that threatened to make him slowly lose his mind was the one driving imperative that he could not ignore. Isabella had been driving him slowly crazy with want, all evening. When he finally and abruptly released her, her dark eyes were as large and as liquid as a startled doe’s and several strands of ebony silk had escaped in a riot of soft tendrils from her pony-tail.

Catching her hand, Leandro calculatingly employed his most devastating smile.

‘It is just one night. Isabella …one night. We can sleep together in a comfortable bed and really get to know each other. Tomorrow night you will be in a different place again, in a different bed—perhaps in one of the refugios where there is scant comfort—and you will think of me and perhaps wonder what it might have been like between us had you agreed to come with me tonight. Life is too short for regrets—do you not agree?’

Isabella’s heart nearly stopped beating at the look that came her way from his seductive grey eyes. Her feet still hadn’t touched the ground since his almost savagely passionate kiss and the pure devastation it had wrought inside her. No man had ever kissed her with such barely controlled desire …And suddenly Isabella knew that she didn’t want Leandro Reyes to be her one big regret. She wanted to look back in years to come and think how fortunate she was that fate had decreed that their paths should cross. She might never experience such burning passion with anyone ever again after this and the irresistible connection she had with Leandro would have to sustain her for the rest of her life if that turned out to be the case …Slipping the strap of her canvas bag awkwardly over her shoulder, she acknowledged his too seductive remark with a hot flurry of excitement and trepidation inside her breast. Her legs were shaking as she spoke.

‘I agree that life is too short for regrets. But I want you to know that if I go with you, this isn’t the kind of thing I make a habit of doing.’

‘Of course.’ His eyes danced with disturbing amusement. ‘Let me call my friend and arrange for a car to pick us up, then I will pay Señor Varez for our meal and we will go.’

Leandro had left her alone to settle into their room. He was downstairs talking to his friend Benito, who had welcomed Isabella with indisputable warmth yet had still maintained a respectful distance. She had quaked inside when she’d seen where Leandro had brought her. Looming out of the rainy night, the hotel resembled an imposing fortress belonging to the Conquistadors. Now, trying to absorb every feature and facet of the seriously opulent room they’d been given, Isabella glanced down at her rain-splattered shirt and jeans and knew she probably looked a million miles away from the kind of prosperous and well-heeled guests that must stay here.

But, shoring up her sudden anxiety about her appearance, she reminded herself that Leandro obviously felt right at home in his own similar clothing and did not give the slightest indication that he was concerned he might be underdressed. Isabella released her breath on a long, low whistle. By all rights she should be dropping with tiredness after her day’s hike, but instead she seemed to be infused with a thrumming restless energy that didn’t show any sign of dissipating. As she had mounted the wide curved staircase that led to their room, in the wake of a smiling chambermaid, her legs had been distinctly shaky. The prospect of sleeping with Leandro was dominating all her senses and part of her felt like running away because the reality of that event seemed just too overwhelming to be borne.

He had promised her that he would join her ‘very soon’ after he had spent a little time with his friend and Isabella’s tummy had been performing dizzying cartwheels ever since. Now, glancing around the breathtaking and spacious room with its burnt ochre walls, arched stone windows and stately four-poster bed with its luxurious gold satin counterpane, she desperately strove to stay calm.

She was fighting a losing battle. Isabella had just agreed to spend the night with a highly charismatic, good-looking Spanish film director and it was a quite unbelievable event that could not be treated with anything less than extreme trepidation. Since she’d broken up with Patrick three months ago, she hadn’t even dated another man—let alone agreed to spend the night! Dammit! She had a perfect right to be nervous! There was no way she could have anticipated such a disturbing possibility as this to occur.

After calling off her wedding, she’d vowed to herself that from now on she would be concentrating on fulfilling her dream of being a writer—not searching for the grande passion that had so far eluded her in life. That could come later, she’d promised herself …if she was lucky. And if not—then there would be other passions equally enthralling. She had always wanted to live an extraordinary life, and going out on a limb against all her family’s advice to write a book and travel to Northern Spain to research it and walk the Camino was just the start. But now, with the prospect of Leandro knocking at the door at any moment, life was quickly going from extraordinary to just plain unbelievable!

Throwing her bag onto the luxurious bed, Isabella hurried into the bathroom to freshen up. A myriad divine scents assailed her as she entered and she saw that everything a discerning guest could possibly require had been provided in abundance. Crossing to the large porcelain basin complete with gold taps, she splashed some cool water on her face and patted it dry with the pristine white hand towel that hung on a large gold ring beside it. Pulling her rain-dampened hair free from its band, she shook it out over her shoulders as she stared at her reflection in the ornate oval mirror. Her glance settled upon the two bright spots of colour glowing on her cheeks and she voiced her impatience out loud. She hated it that she blushed so easily! A shy virginal schoolgirl could probably muster up more composure than Isabella could right now!

God only knew what Emilia would think of the whole affair …But even as she entertained the unwanted thought, Isabella knew with certainty that she wouldn’t be revealing the fact that she’d met Leandro Reyes to her sister. Duplicity wasn’t in her nature, but this was one occasion when she would not be in a hurry to relate the true facts to anyone. And that meant that Emilia would have to go without her information on the Spanish film director—because it definitely wasn’t going to be forthcoming from Isabella.

She squared it with her conscience by reminding herself that Leandro had specifically got her to promise that she would not relate any details of their meeting for her sister to print in her magazine and all he had talked about was the Camino anyway, and not himself. She was certain that would be of little interest to someone like Emilia, whose meat and drink relied more on any juicy titbits she could find out about a celebrity’s personal life rather than their interest in more esoteric subjects. In fact, when Isabella had told her sister that she was going to Spain to research a book on the Santiago de Compostela, Emilia had professed never even to have heard of it.

The sudden knock on the door made her feel quite sickeningly faint. Quickly tidying her dishevelled, damp hair, Isabella stole one final unsatisfactory glance in the mirror before hurrying into the other room to open the door. She hadn’t even had the chance to reapply her make-up. Oh, well …he would just have to accept her as he found her. His hands either side of his lean, jean-clad hips, Leandro’s too engaging smile was akin to the first sigh-inducing lap of hot water in a scented bath, spilling over fatigued and tense limbs after a long day’s work …a pleasure—up until now—virtually unmatched. That pleasure became even more stunningly entrapping when Isabella met his eyes. It was as though his gaze had fired a honey-tipped arrow straight into her breast and now that honey was seeping slowly and inexorably into her blood. She had the strange sensation of having just revealed everything to this disturbing man. Burning heat throbbed through her in a debilitating wave.

‘Hi.’ Her hands fell to her sides to clutch the edges of her shirt—as if she needed something to hold onto to help ground her increasing sense of unreality.

‘My friend Benito tells me that I look like a gypsy you must have found on the road to Santiago. He thinks I have bewitched the nice English girl. What do you think, Isabella?’

‘What do I think?’ Her heart pounded as she surveyed the lazy, contemplative smile that Leandro flicked over her chest before returning in an equally leisurely fashion to her heated face. ‘I think that your friend has a fine imagination …that’s what I think.’ Gypsy, pirate, master storyteller …Leandro Reyes was all those things and more, Isabella thought helplessly.

‘And how about your own imagination, Isabella? How does that work for you?’

Leandro saw the hot colour seep into her face even before he had finished speaking. The woman found it almost impossible to disguise her feelings and right now he was fiercely glad to know that Isabella’s feelings were very much in concordance with his own as far as their fledgling relationship went. He wanted to take her to bed right now …he could barely wait. All the time he had been talking with Benito, all Leandro had really been able to think about was the sweet señorita who was waiting for him upstairs. If she had turned him away tonight he would have been fiercely disappointed and frustrated and it would not have been an easy task to easily put her rejection aside. The realisation merely added to the intense desirous heat that was already gripping him.

‘So?’ He shrugged with pretended nonchalance. ‘I will come inside so that we can discuss the subject further.’

Isabella stood to one side as he passed her. Then she closed the door and watched his tall figure saunter across to the bed and sit down.

CHAPTER THREE

‘SO …YOU like it here? Benito is very proud of this place.’

‘It’s beautiful. I didn’t expect anything quite like this,’ Isabella admitted nervously, glancing round her.

‘He told me to tell you that you enhance it with your own beauty.’ Leandro took her breath away with a raffish grin. ‘But now you must tell me why you are walking the Santiago de Compostela.’ Leaning back on his elbows, he regarded her with nonchalant ease …as if he had relaxation down to an art form. It made Isabella ultra sensitive about her own state of discord with her body. She felt jumpy and apprehensive around him, as if she were contemplating touching burning blue flame. With one penetrating glance, she somehow got the notion that he intuited the very heart of her feelings and she had to admit that unsettled her perhaps more than anything. She shivered. Outside, as if to echo the mounting agitation inside her, the rain lashed loudly at the thickly paned windows as though threatening to come inside. Curling a still damp strand of ebony hair round her fingers, Isabella sent up a silent plea for guidance. Never had she needed it more!

‘I told you …I’m writing a book on why people choose to walk it. My grandfather was quite a devout Catholic and he talked about it so much that I—’

‘Most pilgrims do not walk the Santiago de Compostela for religious reasons—as I am sure you have already found out, Isabella.’ Leandro’s devastating smile contained just the tiniest hint of mockery and she knew at that moment that he intuited much more about her than she was comfortable with. Those clear grey eyes of his would be ruthless in discerning the truth. Her thoughts would be as transparent to him as though he looked upon a still, unrippled lake, right down to the bottom.

‘I needed some inspiration …as well as a new challenge.’

Finally, deciding to express herself without her guard up for once, Isabella let go of her damp tendril of hair and walked across to the window, carefully bypassing the bed on which Leandro had arranged his disturbingly masculine body with such breathtaking ease on top of the gold satin counterpane. ‘I mean, I love my job at the library, but for some reason I started to feel a bit dissatisfied. I suppose I got stuck in a rut. Actually, the sameness of it made me want to scream sometimes! Some people thrive on routine, but I realise I don’t. Life shouldn’t just be a predictable drudge. There should be some adventure, don’t you think?’ She shrugged as the strength of her feelings took impassioned hold and she glanced back at the window in a bid to compose herself. ‘Anyway …I wasn’t totally sure what I wanted to do to make things better, but one of the things I did know was that I wanted to write this book. The idea had been there for a long time but frankly I kept talking myself out of it. I thought—I thought people would think I was overreaching myself in some way …you know? Trying to be too clever.’ For ‘people’ read her family and Patrick. ‘I had to make some tough decisions. I broke up with my fiancé and cancelled our wedding. I wasn’t being callous …It would never have worked anyway and I thought if I don’t do this now—the pilgrimage and the book—then I may never again have either the courage or the chance. So here I am. I think I’m walking the Camino to find some courage and inspiration to live a different sort of life …to discover who I really am and what I’m capable of …Do you know what I mean?’

Hearing the self-conscious edge to her voice, Leandro silently applauded her honesty. Such a candid response to his question was quite refreshing when he considered the duplicity of some other women he’d been with. She must have felt very strongly about her need for change to call off her wedding. Considering the highly desirable qualities this woman possessed, as well as her enchanting looks, Leandro concluded that her ex-fiancé must have suffered considerable regret about losing her. Isabella Deluce was a fascinating, indisputably sexy woman, who any man could not fail to be affected by. Uncoiling his body from the bed, he strolled casually across to the window to join her.

‘Isabella …’

Examining the rippling silk that was her rich dark hair, he gently parted some strands with his fingers and softly blew his warm breath onto the back of her neck. He saw her exquisitely sensitive shiver and was fiercely glad that he had brought her here to Benito’s luxurious hotel in the middle of the night where there was little possibility that any paparazzi would be following him. If they did …Benito knew exactly what to do to get rid of them. Now all Leandro aimed to do was to devote himself to Isabella for the whole of the rest of the night without interruption. ‘Every footstep you take on the Camino is taking you back to yourself …your true self,’ he told her. ‘I promise you that. By the time you reach the Cathedral in Santiago at the end of your walking and pass through the famous Door of Glory as millions of pilgrims have done before you, you will have much more clarity of mind and heart.’

Instinctively Isabella knew that Leandro was right and his words definitely raised her spirits. Already, after days and miles of walking, sometimes in silence, sometimes with the companionship of other walkers, and at night as bands of them joined together in various villages dotted across Northern Spain for the nightly pilgrims’ mass, Isabella knew a deeply profound change was taking place inside her. As Leandro had said, most people did not walk the Camino for religious reasons. Undertaking the challenging five-hundred-mile trek on foot walking through vineyards and the ancient kingdoms of Northern Spain in the hot sun, wind and rain certainly gave a person plenty of time to reflect.

Already Isabella knew it would impact upon her life for ever and she hadn’t even completed it yet. But she’d already discovered on the way that there was so much more to Isabella Deluce than just being a dutiful daughter and a good librarian. She had cut loose from a fiancé who secretly mocked the true meaning of love and was bereft of any feeling of loyalty towards her whatsoever, and had also turned her back on the advice of a family who saw only pitfalls ahead in making the decisions she had. Isabella had relinquished these things to find herself in a part of Spain that was so far away from the frantic tourism of the Costas that it was almost like another country entirely. A part of the country that endured disparate extremes of weather—the rain pounding down on the red clay of the mesas one minute and the baking sun turning the earth into a veritable oven in the next. It couldn’t fail to arouse a sense of wonder and mystery in the soul of anyone who surrendered to its magic.

If that wasn’t enough, now with Leandro she found herself surrendering to magic of a different kind …His teasing breath feathering the back of her neck was a sweet melting heat that rippled over Isabella’s senses like a sensual summer breeze. Leandro Reyes was blessed with the kind of sizzling sexual allure that would induce a clarion call of longing in any woman whose gaze happened to collide with his. Even the air around him seemed to be charged with his deeply affecting presence.

‘You smell of the wild flowers in the mountains.’

‘Do I?’

She turned round to gaze into his fascinating silver-grey eyes, feeling his melting glance bathe her in sensuous moonlight. His lashes were astonishingly luxurious considering they belonged to a man so masculine, and with startling realisation Isabella silently and nervously acknowledged the burning haze of desire that was shockingly directed towards her. ‘I’ve spent days and days walking in nature.’ She offered him a wry smile. ‘Maybe some of it’s rubbed off on me?’

Her smile slowly dissipated in the disquieting absence of his reply. Instead, her body silently shook with the need for him to touch her. Isabella knew his taste now and because she knew it, she craved it. In that moment it was hard to envisage anything that would excite and please her more. She was getting used to expecting the miraculous on this journey; the heavens answered her prayer. She’d hardly taken her next breath when Leandro started to run his hands slowly down the outside of her arms, bringing her trembling form into disturbingly close contact with his own. ‘You are one of nature’s exquisite mysteries too, Isabella. You remind me of the most rare of beautiful wild flowers …of the delight of spring after a long, harsh winter. And you stir in me a heat so powerful, it is like the burning sun that scorches the mesas …’

‘I do?’ Her voice descended to a whisper.

‘Sí …you do. I want to seduce you, Isabella …very much …and I have waited too long already.’

Bending his dark head towards her, Leandro touched his mouth to hers. Isabella’s startled gasp was swept away on a blissful wave of unutterable delight as he kissed her. His lips tasted faintly of Albarino wine and dark Brazilian coffee, and right then she could not have envisaged a more arousing combination of flavours—deliciously heightened by the unmatchable essence of the man himself. The ravishingly hot sweep of his tongue was a sensation she wanted to revisit again and again and again …There would never be such a thing as ‘too much’ where Leandro was concerned.

Unable to restrain her own need, Isabella groaned hungrily into his mouth as he cupped the back of her head to bring her closer still and followed the curve of her spine with his free hand, straight down to her bottom. Squeezing and kneading her flesh, Leandro provocatively aligned her hips with his own, then moved them teasingly apart again—repeating the action with even more deliberate and devastating precision until Isabella seriously feared for her sanity if he were to continue with such a sexy little game for much longer. She wanted him inside her …her body demanded it. Even as the thought made her cheeks burn, her hips had seemingly softened in preparation for his lovemaking. Her breasts had grown heavy and she felt shivery and weak all over—a completely intense reaction that was quite unlike anything she’d ever experienced with any other man before.

There was the devil’s own smile on Leandro’s mesmerising face as his lips broke contact with hers and Isabella left her hands either side of his taut lean middle so that she wouldn’t lose her balance, because there was a real danger that she would. Words deserted her but she held his melting, knowing smile with a steady answering gaze even as her heart quietly pounded.

‘I want to make love to you all night …Do you know that? Even then, I seriously doubt whether that will satisfy my need to possess you!’ Threading his fingers through her hair, Leandro focused on her with laser-like concentration.

Overwhelmed by his attention, Isabella clamped her teeth down self-consciously on her lip. Her heart was now beating with hypnotic rhythm inside her chest. ‘By rights I should really be getting some rest,’ she told him breathlessly, suddenly terrified by the virtual forest fire of lust they had ignited between them. ‘I—I have another long walk ahead of me tomorrow.’

‘We will make love …then we will rest.’

Possessively clasping her hand, Leandro commandingly steered Isabella over to the bed. He sank down onto it pulling her onto his lap. His hands were warm and hard and she sensed the urgency in them. The only other sound in the room was the gentle creak of the mattress and the now less violent hiss of the rain as it hit the windows. As Leandro studied her face her gaze held his with a silent devastating plea, and the deep river of lust that was compelling him to be with this woman flowed with even more forceful demand in his veins. Had he ever witnessed such palpable longing in a woman’s eyes before?

As he tipped up Isabella’s chin the edges of Leandro’s lips lifted a little in a deeply satisfied smile. Her brow was so smooth and fair with little obvious hint that she’d been walking in strong sunshine for days now and her compelling eyes were as dark as the black robes of a nun.

Running his glance across her sexy mouth, he saw that her lips still carried the faint trace of moisture from his and as he observed them with increasingly ravenous thirst he witnessed just the tiniest quiver. If she were an actress and he were directing her in a love scene, he would be instructing the most heart-stopping close-up of her features right now and her lovely face would stay in the mind long after the closing credits had rolled.

Heady desire sweeping through him like a fierce tornado, the buttons on Isabella’s shirt irresistibly beckoned and Leandro obeyed the deep, silent, fevered impulse to undo them. A trickle of sweat sluggishly meandered down the middle of his back and clung to his heated skin as he did so. The heat in the room was bordering on sultry and weighed on the air like a heavy overcoat but he knew too that later on tonight it would be a different story. In early May, as it was now, the mornings could be piercingly chill to the point of ice, but by midday the sun would be roasting, burning down on the landscape in a relentless haze. More compelling to Leandro, however, was the fever of carnal need that had taken his body prisoner. His mind became emptied of every thought but Isabella, conjuring up rich, erotic fantasies of what they would do together, his strong abdominal muscles bunching hard to constrain his rapidly escalating desire. He should not overwhelm her …this enchanting English girl who was walking the Santiago de Compostela trail to ‘find’ herself. He had no wish to be the one discordant note in her symphony of self-discovery. Yet Leandro would not deny himself this exquisite opportunity to discover her in the most intimate way. He wanted her far too much for that and so he would take what he wanted without regret.

Isabella gasped when Leandro’s lean, bronzed hands practically tore open her blouse and pushed it down over her shoulders. Her full breasts bounced a little in her white balconette bra and she felt her nipples pinch tight. When she dared a greedy glance at the beautifully hewn masculine features and light copper skin that was so close to her, she immediately ached with almost violent need. Nothing could adequately convey this man’s stunning allure, she was certain—but Isabella knew her memory would not fail her. Now his hungry stare grazed lasciviously on her breasts and she ached for the sweet release of his hot mouth caressing them, unconsciously pursing her lips to moisten them a little at the flagrantly erotic thought.

Then he kissed her, splaying his palm against the back of her head to hold her fast, and it barely took even a second for Isabella to pay him back with the hot, hungry response his lips almost brutally demanded. The explosion between them was a nuclear fusion of white hot heat. Already Leandro’s sizzling X-rated kisses had ruined Isabella for life. Withdrawing from her with a teasing little smile, he practically ripped open the buttons of his shirt to reveal a chest so beautifully defined with lean, hard muscle that Isabella sucked in her breath and let it out slowly again, in awe. After that, she couldn’t have said who undressed whom, all she knew was that taking their clothes off had become an imperative tide that they could not turn back from, and as hands grasped and mouths clashed Isabella likened the furore of sensation soaring through her blood to a fire ripping through a dry forest …a fire that could not be doused with even a lake of water.

With passionately voiced whispers of appreciation and encouragement, Leandro caressed her hips, her breasts, her thighs, his deliciously erotic hands elevating the tension between them with every stroke, heatedly encouraging Isabella’s growing desire to break all its previously guarded bounds and simply surrender. Her nervousness dissipated like a snowflake in the sun as she relinquished her natural inhibition, and discovered a spontaneous lustful side to her character instead. A quality that frankly was a revelation to her. And she no longer had to hope or wish or yearn to have the attentions of Leandro’s mouth on her breasts—not when he was in turn taking her exquisitely tight nipples deep into the moist cavern of his mouth and driving her near mad with the need to have him inside her. His body was a mouth-watering study in masculine perfection too. Lean but muscular—every perfectly delineated, smooth-as-silk muscle in that copper skinned torso was a fascinating revelation never to be forgotten.

Briefly thinking about the promised phone-call to her sister, Isabella knew she’d already abandoned the idea. If Emilia even guessed that her ‘principled’ big sister had wound up in bed with a man she’d only just met and that man happened to be the very man she’d dispatched Isabella to try and win an interview with for her magazine …then Isabella would never hear the end of it! But once she started back on the Camino trail tomorrow, no one would be able to contact her, thank God. She would once again know some peace from her demanding family.

‘Isabella …’ Leandro’s hot breath skimmed erotically over the delicate skin on her ear ‘ …usted es tan hermoso, asi que fino.’ She recognised the Spanish for ‘beautiful’ and ‘fine’ and shivered with pleasure.

***

A woman’s scent had always been the biggest turn-on for Leandro, but surely Isabella’s had the undeniable power to drive a man ‘loco’ with desire? He decided this because he wanted her with an almost feral lustfulness that left him breathless and aching as he had never ached for a woman before. His body was all but crying out for him to make that final inevitable connection with hers and it was strange—but he almost intuited a sense of destiny as he stroked his hands over her temptingly curvy hips and slid his muscular, more hirsute legs down over hers. Quickly dismissing the unsettling thought, he told himself that sexual desire could stir the most outrageously fanciful ideas in a man and he should be careful. Isabella was a beguiling woman, that was true, but at the end of the day all Leandro wanted to do was enjoy her beautiful body for a while …not marry her! When his fingers slid over the scalding heat of her womanhood, then inside her provocative wetness, he heard her sharp, excited intake of breath and momentarily lost himself in the stunning eroticism of the highly charged moment. The sensation almost unravelled him right there. At her small ecstatic moan, he smiled, kissed her softly on the mouth, then raised himself up from her trembling form and leaned across the bed to reach for his jeans. Taking out his wallet from the back pocket, he withdrew one of two foil-wrapped condoms that had been concealed in the zipped compartment and, sitting back, carefully sheathed himself with it. When he returned to Isabella, his knee urged her trembling legs apart—his expression a deeply masculine study in unleashed passion as he did so—and gratifyingly sensed her clasp his body tightly with her slender silken thighs. Then, slowly and with almost agonising pleasure, Leandro eased his hard, aching shaft deep inside her. Madre mia! She was fire and satin, this exquisite woman, and her expressive dark eyes locked sensually onto his as he started to ride her.

Her eyes drifted closed as the growing sensual tension inside her inexorably built with each demanding thrust into her body. They swiftly opened again in shock as Leandro said fiercely, ‘Look at me, Isabella! Do not hide your pleasure from me! I want to witness everything!’ As the tension reached an exquisite plateau and sensual waves ebbed through her with force Isabella’s heartbeat went wild. In those highly charged moments, she knew a deepening sense of destiny. For whatever reason fate decreed …she had been meant to meet Leandro Reyes …even if it was just for this one night. A harsh, soul-deep cry left his lips just then and punctured the sultry air—the surprising sound resonating with force in the room and momentarily silencing the sound of the rain as his body quivered hard with release. Isabella was enthralled by that uninhibited shout of pleasure and for long moments she just allowed herself to simply bask in her woman’s power. The idea was a new and exciting revelation to add to her already growing store of new discoveries.

Curling her hands round Leandro’s sleek, hard biceps, she felt her heart hammer inside her chest almost as heavily and as fast as the relentless rain that pummelled the window-panes. Then she moved her fingers through his mane of thick dark hair, secretly loving the sensation of his muscular body covering hers, pressing her down deep into the mattress—the erotic sheen of his sweat glazing her skin and her senses filled with the scent of their lovemaking.

‘You have confirmed my suspicions quite emphatically, Isabella. Rest will be the furthest thing from my mind now that my body has known the deep, deep pleasure of joining with yours.’

Along with this wry, hungry observation, Leandro accorded Isabella with the most dangerously challenging smile she’d ever received. If that seriously fever-inducing gesture wasn’t enough, the look in his clear grey eyes literally made her heart leap. ‘Instead we will make love and listen to the rain and make love again until we are close to exhaustion, my sweet Isabella,’ he asserted.

His deliberately possessive ‘my’ resonating with undeniable delight throughout her entire being, Isabella sensed renewed desire swiftly build inside her even as Leandro bent his head and his lips hungrily claimed a breast. She slowly released a softly ragged breath, the ache between her legs almost painful. ‘I want that too,’ she whispered, without any trace of doubt or inhibition …

The arrival of the morning sneaked into her consciousness far too soon. Awake as soon the sky started to lighten in the east, spreading the pink tinge of dawn across the previously black canvas of the night, Isabella breathed out softly as she studied the arresting sleeping features of Leandro beside her. Although clearly surrendering to fatigue now, they’d paid scant attention to sleep during the past few hours. As she felt her face suffuse with warmth as she recalled how emphatically she and her Spanish lover had whiled those precious night-time hours away the corners of Isabella’s lush mouth couldn’t help but edge upwards into a smile. This morning she was a different woman again from the one that had been slowly emerging during the pilgrimage. She’d already been feeling braver and stronger but now after last night …she felt daring too. And her body brimmed with a new vitality even though she ached in every muscle …her tender spots arising because of the amazing man lying beside her.

Isabella might well smile. Just then Leandro stirred, rubbed a hand round his beard-roughened chiselled jaw and opened his eyes. It was like staring right into a pool of silvery starlight …Isabella’s stomach dived straight to her feet in stunning awareness of the shock of that direct arresting gaze.

‘Buenos días.’

Before she could even reply, Leandro slid his fingers beneath her chin and claimed her mouth in a deeply satisfying—and bordering on ravenous—kiss.

‘Good morning,’ she croaked, her black-coffee eyes wide with surprise and pleasure.

As Leandro lazily surveyed Isabella’s early-morning face, her bewitching beauty undimmed by lack of rest, her long dark hair spilling over her smooth bare shoulders and her tentative smile intriguingly self-conscious, his stomach clutched with surprising regret at the thought of having to say goodbye to her today. This woman had given him such stunning and unforgettable pleasure—both with her body and her company and he was not quite ready to relinquish either. Leandro found himself wishing that they could spend the rest of the day in bed and let the world carry on without them. But inevitably they must part—he to return to his house to catch up with some urgent reading of new manuscripts and work proposals before returning to Madrid to embark upon his latest cinematic project—and she to continue this most ancient of pilgrimages, presumably followed by her own return to her homeland …

‘I could wish to be woken in such a satisfying way every morning, my fair Isabella.’ There it was again …that very appealing and possessive ‘my’. Used in such a seductive way, the huskily voiced note of ownership could not possibly offend her …quite the opposite. Allowing him to pull her against his chest and smooth back her tousled dark fringe from her face, Isabella breathed in Leandro’s addictive soft musk scent as he grinned at her suggestively.

She had to attempt at least twenty miles today through varying and challenging terrain if she was to catch up with some walking companions as arranged and the memory of that wicked and gorgeous smile of his was surely going to sustain her until she reached the monastery where she had planned to stay tonight …But at the thought of parting from Leandro, Isabella felt a hollow little flutter inside her chest and then the same again—only stronger—in the pit of her stomach. ‘You’ve hardly had any sleep at all and now I’ve woken you,’ she said apologetically.

‘And I was the very inconsiderate man who kept you awake most of the night because I could not keep my hands off of you! You should not be endowed with so many beguiling qualities to tempt me so much!’ He laughed huskily. Isabella wanted to say, I’ll miss you, but then she remembered that Leandro Reyes was a very well known and respected film director and once he had returned to his busy and demanding life her memory would be relegated very firmly to his past. She knew she wasn’t special. Working in the film industry as he did, he would have every opportunity to bed the most alluring women and probably did. She would be just one of many. Her stomach protested with a sickening twist at the thought …

‘I should get up and get dressed,’ she murmured, deliberately averting her gaze away from the cynosure of his piercing silvery eyes …the eyes that seemed to see into her soul. She’d best just start to forget him right now if that were possible and focus on the pilgrimage instead. ‘I’ve got to get back to my hotel and get some breakfast and fill my water bottle before I get going again.’

‘Benito’s driver will drop us both back when we are ready,’ Leandro responded immediately, ‘but we can breakfast here first.’

‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind? I have to make up quite a bit of time today.’ Moving away from him, she sat up, using some of the sheet to hide her nakedness. For some reason, a strong wave of protectiveness for the vulnerability the gesture exposed washed over Leandro. Once again he had cause to admonish himself for his uncharacteristic reaction. Isabella and he had had a good time in bed …an unbelievable time, in fact …but at the end of the day she was just another beautiful girl passing through and in a few days’ time, when she had completed the pilgrimage, she would be going home again to England. End of story …So long as she did not relate any of what had occurred between them to her sister or anyone else associated with the media, Leandro would relegate their time together to a very pleasurable and warm memory.

‘So?’ He sat up too, the warm skin on his thigh brushing up against hers. He sensed her answering shiver and felt a strong leap of desire. He quelled it. ‘When you go back to England …where is home?’ he asked casually.

A quizzical little crease appeared between Isabella’s fine dark brows, as though she was surprised he should ask such a question.

‘I live in Islington in London …the least posh part. Do you know it?’

‘I have heard of it.’ Leandro smiled. ‘And you work nearby?’

‘In Highgate. It’s not far away.’

‘And you will be busy working on your book when you return, sí?’

Isabella shrugged self-consciously, the movement dislodging the sheet and suddenly exposing her bare breasts. She quickly grabbed it back again and covered herself. ‘That’s the plan. And you …you’ll be working on a film I guess?’

Immediately the shutters came down over Leandro’s eyes and Isabella could have kicked herself. She’d hate to think that he might believe she would tell anybody anything that he’d told her …especially about his work or his private life. Considering that both were topics he’d deliberately avoided discussing during their time together, he must know he had nothing to fear?

‘I will be getting back to work, sí. Isabella?’

‘Yes?’ Her dark eyes widened as she watched his hand scrape through his tousled hair.

‘I would give you my phone number but it is not something that I do readily or easily. In my position, I have to be careful …you understand?’ His words confirmed she was not important to him in any way as well as reiterating his intense need to guard his privacy. Fielding the immense wave of hurt and disappointment that washed over her, Isabella briefly inclined her head. ‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Why don’t you use the shower first?’ he suggested smoothly and she could easily sense his withdrawal from her. ‘I have a couple of phone calls to make before we leave.’

‘Okay.’ She felt as if she’d been somehow dismissed from his life as though she were nothing but an afterthought, and Isabella’s heart was sickeningly heavy as she turned her back to get out of bed …