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He glanced at her fingers on his wrist, making her realise she was clinging to him. She released him instantly, even as the riot of sensation where her fingers had touched his skin made her breathing accelerate alarmingly.
‘You will stay here because you must,’ he said in that forthright manner he had that made absolutely no effort to spare her feelings. ‘Until we discover who you are.’
It was true, of course, but, even so, she felt utterly miserable—small and insignificant and lonely—emotions which also brought back hazy recollections, but, like all her other memories, they were a jagged blur of sound and colour and shadows.
Without another word, he strolled from the room and shut the door decisively behind him.
Cerys went back to staring at the view, even more anxious now than she had been before Santiago Álvaro De Montoya Lopez had walked into her life and witnessed it going into freefall…Again. Apparently.
‘I believe she has a form of amnesia, Your Excellency. It is not uncommon after a trauma such as you have described to me. The mind will sometimes seek to protect the psyche from an event or emotions that are difficult to cope with.’
Santiago turned from his contemplation of the vineyards on the south-facing terraces above thecastillo’s East Wing, the knot in his stomach tightening as his head began to throb.
Dr Mendoza’s calm observation was not what he had wanted to hear—which had to explain why he felt the opposite of calm right now himself.
He should not have touched the girl this morning, that much was obvious. He had stayed away from her ever since he had deposited her in one of the guest bedrooms in the West Tower at three a.m. two nights ago, following the drive from Barcelona. That would be the guest bedroom which was as far away from his own private quarters as it was possible to get her. Then he had left María Hermosa and her staff to deal with her.
Why had he given in to the unfamiliar urge to comfort her? Because the memory of her subtle shudder when he’d briefly placed his hand on her shoulder was still echoing uncomfortably in his groin an hour later… Not to mention the sight of her nipples, drawing into tight peaks under the almost transparent garment his housekeeper must have loaned her. And then there had been that subtle scent—flowery and fresh—which had an even more devastating effect on him today than it had in the car, during the endless drive to get here.
He did not usually enjoy physical contact, was not a naturally tactile man, unless erotic pleasure was involved. Nor was he a man who had any gift for comforting distraught women—just ask Ana, or his mother for that matter, whose distress he had failed to alleviate when he was a boy.
He shook his head, determined to dispel the wave of old guilt. And grief.
But how could he have controlled the urge to comfort her? The girl had looked so forlorn and lost in that moment. He had not lied when he told her he hated to see any woman abused. That was surely why he had lost his cool so spectacularly with the thief in Barcelona. The sight of the brute swatting the girl off him like a fly had stirred a deep-seated rage he remembered also from his childhood, which had exploded like a storm.
But this morning the instinct to protect her had felt more personal—and all the more disturbing for it.
‘You do not think she is faking this memory loss then?’ he asked, his usual cynicism kicking in. She had no money and no possessions, how easy would it be to throw herself on the mercy of a wealthy man, by pretending to have no recollection of who she was? ‘This very convenient confusion about her identity,’ he finished, in the hope that maybe the girl was not as vulnerable as she appeared.
‘I do not believe so. She was distressed about her lack of memory, Your Excellency. As anyone would be in such circumstances,’ the doctor replied, the faint rebuke in his tone making it clear he thought such an assessment of the girl’s symptoms was beneath Santiago.
Santiago ignored Mendoza’s gentle reprimand. His cynicism had served him well over the years. But, unfortunately, his common sense—and his ability to read people—was telling him the girl was not lying. Despite her vulnerability, she had been determined not to appear defenceless, had even taken him to task for his hectoring questions.
‘She informed me she wishes to pay for her stay if she remains here,’ the doctor added, clearly having been charmed by Santiago’s new house guest. ‘Although I have advised another couple of days of bedrest before she contemplates finding employment. I would also suggest having her referred for a scan at the Girona hospital, just to ensure there are no underlying issues.’
‘Okay,’ Santiago replied.
Her insistence she pay her way was of course ludicrous, especially when she was still suffering from the effects of that brute’s blow. Perhaps the sight of the yellowing bruise on her cheek was another reason why he had taken pity on her and made a foolish attempt to prevent her crying.
Although again, pressing his hand to her shoulder had not felt entirely like pity when she had responded to his touch, her gaze darkening with…
He cursed inwardly.
Forget that look. It meant nothing. And you certainly do not wish it to mean anything.
It seemed he would be stuck at thecastilloat least until the end of the summer now—before he could find a new school that would enrol his troublesome sister for the autumn semester. He’d already exhausted all the best private institutions in Spain, which meant looking further afield.
Although at seventeen she was nearly a woman, Ana remained as stubborn and disobedient as ever. Leaving her in the care of the staff here for the summer would be a recipe for disaster. She had the ability to charm them all into becoming her partners in crime—even María was not always immune to her exuberant determination to be a thorn in everyone’s side, most of all her oldest brother’s. And the many governesses he had hired over the years had never been able to control her either.
All of which meant he had already had to make the infuriating decision to relocate his business interests here for the next two months to watch over her himself. The good news was, after a few months of having him punishing her bad behaviour, by the end of the harvest she would be begging him to attend whichever new school he picked—and it would also give him time to prepare her for his impending marriage, once he found a bride.
The bad news was, he would be spending a whole summer in this mausoleum, which held far too many unpleasant memories. And now, added to that, there would be this girl here indefinitely too—whose presence provoked him in a way he had never experienced before. Not even while dealing with Ana.
‘How long do you think it will take for her to regain her memory?’ he asked.
And leave,he wanted to add, but didn’t. Because he suspected Mendoza would be less than impressed with the callous sentiment. Not that he cared what people thought of him, but Mendoza had been here the night his mother had died… And he did not want the man suggesting grief counselling again to cure Santiago’s ‘detachment issues’, when Santiago had never considered his ability to contain his emotions a problem.
‘That is impossible to say with any certainty, Your Excellency. Although usually these episodes do not last very long, amnesia is not something you can cure. The brain adjusts to trauma at its own pace and in its own way. But you could perhaps consult a psychiatrist for a more thorough assessment.’