my aunt.’
He drew her across the room to where the elderly woman was sitting. She was nodding in the sunlight that filtered through the long blinds, and he touched her shoulder with a gentle hand. ‘Tia Elena,’ he said, his tone softening perceptibly, ‘do you know Edward’s sister? She has come to spend a few days with us.’
Tia Elena was very old. Her face was a network of lines and creases, her gnarled hands plucking almost absently at the embroidery silks in her lap. But her eyes were surprisingly bright when they opened to Luis’s words, her gaze turning up to Abby’s face with undisguised interest
‘Por supuesto,’ she said. Of course. She held out her hand towards the young woman. ‘It is Abigail, no?’ She paused. ‘Edward told me you are escaping from the English winter, sí?’
No!
Once again Abby had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from protesting her innocence. Instead, she shook the old woman’s dry hand and managed a faint smile. ‘Who wouldn’t want to escape here?’ she said, deciding there was no point in making an issue of it with the old lady. ‘Everything is so—beautiful.’
‘You are saying all the right things,’ observed Tia Elena approvingly. ‘Luis, we should hire this young woman to promote your new leisure complex, no?’
‘You could be right,’ responded Luis politely, but Abby had the impression that he was still finding it difficult to control his anger. ‘Abigail is always welcome here. She knows that.’
Did she? Abigail was getting the distinct impression that the Esquivals were not exactly overjoyed that she had arrived. And why not? Edward was obviously in no danger. It looked very much as if he had got her out here for his own purposes. But what those purposes were she had yet to find out.
Now Abby abandoned her thoughts and stepped out onto her balcony. It was good to feel the warmth of the sun reversing the chill of apprehension on her skin. She already felt like an interloper and it wasn’t pleasant. Particularly as she hadn’t wanted to come.
Yet why did she feel this way? She couldn’t fault the Esquivals’ hospitality. Despite Edward’s rudeness, a maid had been summoned and iced tea had been served before Abby had been escorted to her room. And, thanks to Tia Elena’s attentions, she’d managed to avoid having to say anything to either Alejandro or her brother. She’d perched instead on the edge of a bright yellow sofa and replied to the old lady’s questions about her journey.
But why had Edward brought her out here? she wondered restlessly, plucking at the petals of the flowering vine that rioted over the iron railings of the balcony. What possible purpose could he have had? When she’d left England she’d imagined the worst, afraid that there must be something about his injuries he wasn’t telling her. Now she was sure there was something Edward hadn’t told her—but it wasn’t about his accident.
The sound of voices came from below and her scalp prickled. Although she couldn’t understand what he was saying, she thought she would have recognised that voice anywhere. It was Alejandro. He was leaving. And all three members of the Esquival family had come out to bid him farewell.
Abby glanced down almost nervously. Her balcony overlooked the formal gardens that lay to the right of the long drive, and by turning her head she could easily see the entrance portico and the four people who had emerged onto the shallow steps.
She knew she should draw back, that even by standing here, watching them, she was invading their privacy, but she stayed where she was. She wished she knew what her sister-in-law was talking about. Lauren’s dark excitable posturing intrigued her. It was obvious that they all deferred to the man Abby had never expected to encounter here, and her heart twisted painfully at the way they fawned around him.
Alejandro seemed calm and unruffled. His lazy smile split the dark contours of his face. He gave a polite wave before walking towards the sleek black vehicle that Abby now saw was parked to one side of the forecourt. A click of the key-fob and then he was swinging the door open, coiling his long length behind the wheel.
No wonder the chauffeur hadn’t hung around, Abby reflected, reluctantly admiring the lines of the expensive sports saloon. Clearly Alejandro preferred to drive himself.
The Esquivals clustered around the car, reluctant to let him go, but evidently he had had enough. His firing of the ignition signalled his eagerness to be on his way. And, although Abby told herself she was relieved that he would apparently not be joining them for dinner, she couldn’t prevent the unexpected frisson of nostalgia she felt as he swung the wheel towards the gates.
Crushing the emotion, she turned and went back into the bedroom behind her. Perhaps she ought to be thinking of leaving, too, she reflected. There was a flight to London tomorrow afternoon at about this time, and if she had any sense she’d arrange to be on it. She owed it to Ross, and to her local education authority, not to take advantage of their good nature. And now that it appeared that all Edward needed was someone to complain to she had no excuse for staying on.
But for tonight at least she had to make the best of the situation. The suite, which comprised this room, a small sitting area, a dressing room and bathroom, was very comfortable. Okay, maybe the rather heavy and ornate furniture was not to her taste, but so what? It suited the house.
Nevertheless, she decided not to take everything out of the case the maid had deposited on the carved chest at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, she’d packed a couple of dresses near the top of the case that she’d hoped would be suitable for both day and evening wear, and that was all she’d need. Oh, and a pair of heels, of course. She couldn’t wait to get out of the khaki pants and into something cool and feminine.
Say what?
Abby’s lips twisted. What was she thinking of? Just because Lauren and her mother chose to wear extremely feminine clothes that was no reason for her to feel she had to do the same. For heaven’s sake, she’d always been more at home in jeans and sweaters, or in warmer weather shorts and tees. She was no fashion plate. She never had been. She’d never get away with the kind of fussy flowing outfits Edward’s in-laws favoured.
She heaved a sigh. This whole trip was going to be a disaster. She just knew it. She could willingly strangle Edward for getting her into this situation.
A knock at her door brought a momentary halt to her soul-searching. Throwing the two dresses she’d taken from the suitcase onto the bed, she walked resignedly across the sitting area to the door.
Edward was waiting outside. He could evidently get around with the help of the crutches he had propped beneath his arms. He looked a little shamefaced, however, and Abby only hesitated a second before stepping back to let him in.
Closing the door, she leant back against it for a moment. Then, still without saying anything, she walked past him and into the bedroom, returning to the examination of her clothes she’d been making before he’d interrupted her. But her heart wasn’t in it, and when her brother limped to stand in the archway, watching her, she was forced to meet his pleading gaze.
‘Are you mad at me?’ he asked, giving her an appealing look, and she took a calming breath before replying.
‘Can you blame me?’ she demanded. Then, after a pause, ‘You let me think you were seriously injured, Eddie. I was really worried about you. And now I find there’s nothing wrong with you that a few weeks’ rest won’t cure.’
Edward looked injured. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
Abby gave him a forbearing look. ‘Comparatively speaking,’ she retorted shortly. ‘What have you got? A fractured femur? Cuts and bruises? Life-threatening? I don’t think so.’
Edward limped to the armchair by the open balcony doors and eased himself into it. ‘So what are you saying?’ he asked. ‘That I have to be at death’s door before you’d make the effort to come and see me?’
Abby sighed. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’
‘Do I?’ Edward was on the offensive now.