Page 10

‘Let’s see how it goes,’ he said noncommittally, already discarding that idea.
If they couldn’t cure the problem, what was the point of letting a psychiatrist poke around in the girl’s head? In his experience, such an intrusion would only make the whole episode more traumatic. She certainly had not lost her ability to stand up for herself, which was the main thing.
‘She is well otherwise?’ he asked.
‘She is tired and still bruised, and distressed obviously about the amnesia, but otherwise she is fit and well, yes. There are no signs of any more concerning injuries. The scan would just be a precaution.’
‘Okay, arrange the scan and send me the bill for her treatment,’ he said. It was the least he could do to ensure she was healthy and could leave as soon as was humanly possible.
But when the doctor nodded and headed out of his study, he called after him.
‘Do you know how old she is, Mendoza?’ he asked, because it was another aspect of his unexplained reaction towards her that he found deeply unsettling. She seemed so young, innocent even—what if she were even younger than Ana? Wouldn’t that make Santiago’s awareness of her—that jolt of arousal when her breath had guttered out and she had trembled under his touch—nothing short of depraved? The memory of his father—and his unscrupulous dealings with women—loomed large.
‘She says she has just turned twenty.’
Not younger than Ana, then. Thank God.
Santiago frowned, his suspicions aroused again, even as relief flooded him. ‘How does she know her age, if she has no memory of her own name?’
‘Random pieces of information are not unusual in these circumstances.’
What a shame she does not have any more useful pieces of random information then.
After the doctor left, he called María and gave his housekeeper the news that Cerys would be staying until she regained her memory. Or they could find out more about her.
He had already contacted the Barcelona police about the assault and given them a description of the thief. Maybe he would get lucky, and her documents would be found. Her accent suggested she was English. Mateo had contacted the British consulate in Barcelona, so they could alert them if anyone enquired about a missing girl.
The housekeeper took the news with her usual competence, but then reiterated what Mendoza had said about the girl insisting on paying for her room and board.
‘Once she is fully recovered, find her something to do then. And pay her accordingly,’ Santiago replied. If she were faking her amnesia to play on his sympathies this would disabuse her of the idea that he was in any way a soft touch. ‘I have no objection to her working here once she is well enough.’ And there was always work to do during the summer—he had frequently had to lend a hand himself in the fields during the harvest. Then an idea struck him. ‘Ana needs someone to watch her. I simply do not have the time to be my sister’s keeper twenty-four-seven. Give the girl the task and tell her to report back to you if Ana gets up to her usual mischief.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘Especially with any of the local boys or my male employees.’
His sister was vivacious, beautiful, completely uncontrolled and also dangerously naïve—but because she was also extremely intelligent, she had realised her ability to enslave the opposite sex as soon as she had reached puberty, and had become even more of a handful as a result—which was precisely why she needed a woman’s guidance. But until he found a wife to provide that, this girl could keep her company. She wasn’t much older than his sister, but maybe she could distract Ana from her usual tricks. Plus, they both spoke English. Keeping his sister entertained and out of trouble would certainly be a way for Cerys to more than earn her keep. And it would relieve him of the onerous task of dealing with Ana while he was also juggling vineyard business, the upcoming harvest, all his other businesses and investments… And rebooting his quest to find a suitable bride, which had been put on hold for the past forty-eight hours.
He had to host the annual Cantada Summer Fiesta in three weeks, so he would endeavour to find a date for the event who he could add to his shortlist—a shortlist which had precisely zero names on it at present.
As he tucked his phone into his back pocket, he congratulated himself on finding an excellent solution to the problem presented by his unwanted houseguest.
Now all he had to do was get on with his life and ignore her existence—which would be easy. The seventeenth-centurycastillohad over six hundred rooms in four separate wings, the vineyards stretched for over two thousand hectares, the winery and bodega was a huge operation which would be full of people working—and tourists doing tours—as they prepared for the harvest during the coming weeks. He was going to be extremely busy. And if the girl was going to ride herd on Ana she would have her hands full, too. So there was no reason he would ever even need to see her or speak to her again. Let alone touch her.
Excelente!The problem of his unwanted houseguest was solved.
Now all he had to do was find a wife.
CHAPTER FOUR
Three weeks later…
‘It’s so idyllic here, it must be tough having to leave for school at the end of each summer,’ Cerys said as she rubbed the towel over her wet hair and grinned at Ana.
Her new friend—well, her only friend really, as Cerys still couldn’t remember her other friendsyet—laughed and levered herself out of the river pool to sit on one of the rocks shaded from the morning sun by gnarled tamarind trees.
The laugh wasn’t like Ana’s usual laughs though—infectious and full of mischief—it had a cynical edge which Cerys recognised from her first encounter with Ana’s brother. Or rather, the first encounter she could remember.
She had bumped into him—literally—only once since that first day inCastillo de las Vides. That had been three days ago, while she had been running across thecastillo’s courtyard to meet Ana for the day’s planned excursion. She hadn’t been able to see his eyes behind the aviator shades he wore, but the memory still made her shiver. Because she had felt his gaze sear her skin as he gave her a perfunctory greeting before walking away.
He really did not like her, and she had no idea why. There were so many things she’d wanted to say to him in that moment—all of them about Ana—but she’d been completely tongue-tied. And more than a little spellbound by the sight of him in work-battered boots, a sweat-stained T-shirt and faded muddy jeans. The stubble on his chin, the messy disarray of his hair and the funky smell of sweat and earth had made her realise he must have been in the fields before dawn.
The truth was, she found the Duke of Cantada fascinating, and not just because Ana never stopped talking about him.