Fierce Love Read Online Free Page B

a door set in a deeply recessed arch and rapped lightly.
    Before they heard a welcoming response, Maggie had time to note the door’s wrought-iron hinges were adorned with swirling arabesques and attached to the wood at odd angles. The strange house made her feel as though she were a character in some dream-set play, and she wished she’d had sense enough to freshen her makeup and comb her hair before meeting the star.
    “How do I look?” she whispered.
    Santos leaned down to brush her cheek with a mere hint of a kiss. “You needn’t worry. Father will be proud,” he breathed out against her ear. He then opened the door, gently propelled her on through it and closed it softly behind her.
    The large master bedroom faced the sea and was aglow with the radiant light reflected off the water. Momentarily blinded, Maggie looked down at the bare hardwood floor, then toward the massive bed. The four posts had been carved to resemble gracefully twisting tree trunks topped with delicate branches sprouting upwards to form a lacy canopy. A forest green duvet covered the matching sheets and tumble of pillows, but the rumpled bed was empty.
    “Magdalena,” Miguel called, his voice low and deep.
    Maggie turned toward the sound and was startled to find the opposite end of the room completely open to the balcony overlooking the shore. Leaning back against the rail, her father stood out as a dark silhouette against the brilliant sea. She could make out only a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in dark pajamas and a matching robe, but his face was hidden in shadow.
    “It was good of you to come,” he murmured softly. “How was your flight?”
    He had posed the casual question without the slightest effort at dramatic effect, as though good manners required it. Because her mother spoke no Spanish, Maggie had expected him to speak English well, but the rich timbre of his voice was a surprise. It was a deep, seductive baritone an actor would kill to possess, and it carried easily over the low roiling rumble of the sea. The sound played on her senses, coaxing her near while wary instincts held her back.
    “I’ve never enjoyed flying,” she replied, hesitantly moving closer, still unable to make out her father’s face clearly.
    “Neither have I, but my work required it.”
    Maggie took another cautious step. Did he actually regard bullfighting as work? she wondered, as though it were merely a way to earn a living, as long as he survived. “That makes it no easier,” she replied.
    She felt the cool, salt-scented breeze against her face and dug her nails into her palms. She hadn’t expected a welcoming hug and kiss from the man who’d forgotten all her birthdays, but this sterile exchange troubled her.
    “Oh, but it does,” Miguel argued, “because I had no say in the matter. But then I have a regrettable tendency to make foolish choices whenever I do.”
    Maggie’s voice rose as she lost all hope of controlling her temper. “Are you referring to your marriage to my mother?”
    Miguel’s response was a low, self-deprecating chuckle. “No, querida. She was an excellent choice. Marrying her was one of my few good decisions.”
    “Then why did you leave us?” Instantly ashamed of the pathetic question, Maggie swung her gaze past him to the sea. Sailboats glided by in the distance, their colorful pennants a reminder of all the childhood parties he’d missed.
    Unfazed by her bitter accusation, Miguel tightened his loosely belted robe, then folded his arms across his chest. “Is that what your mother told you, that I left her? I’m surprised. I believed Linda incapable of deceit.”
    Maggie remained aloof, but her traitorous body took another step toward him. “She never speaks of you, but I’ve always assumed…” Her voice faded to an uncertain hush.
    “That I was the one to end our marriage? No. Your dear mother left me, but I cheated on her within weeks of our wedding. I’m not proud of it, but then, I’ve cheated on