Under the Spaniard's Lock and Key Read Online Free

Rafael froze, feeling as if someone had just landed a punch in his solar plexus.
    ‘Over there…I think she’s trying to cross the road. You see her?’
    ‘I see her.’
    ‘Now that is what this party lacked—a few pretty faces to look at.’
    ‘Not pretty,’ Rafael contradicted.
    His elderly relative looked outraged. ‘Not pretty? What is wrong with you? Don’t tell me you like your women like sticks. A woman should be soft and—’
    ‘Beautiful,’ Rafael corrected, cutting across his great-uncle’s list of womanly attributes.
    As his brain emerged from its temporary paralysis his eyes remained trained on the slim figure, but it was not the brunette’s face or her indisputably womanly figure that held his stunned gaze.
    He glanced briefly at his great-uncle, who played the forgetful old man card when it suited him but was anything but; the last thing Rafael needed at this moment was Fernando to realise why the girl looked familiar to him.
    He was surprised he hadn’t already.
    The sooner he got him safely away from this potentially explosive scene, the better.
    Rafael dragged his eyes off the brunette. Still aware of her in the periphery of his vision, and aware he was not the only one aware of her—this was a woman accustomed to male attention—he offered his great-uncle a supportive arm, nodding to the driver who held the door open as Fernando took his place in the car.
    The car moved off and Rafael was able to focus all his attention on the brunette.
    She was obviously heading for the hotel. If she walked in now he could imagine the reaction and there were photographers to record the moment for posterity and every tabloid on the planet!
    An illegitimate love child reunited with her mother while the unsuspecting husband and social elite looked on. My God, the girl had to have engineered the moment for maximum embarrassment—not that her motivation or her feelings were what he needed to concentrate on now, he told himself, blocking out this line of speculation.
    This was about damage limitation. Let Angelina have this day at least before disaster in the shape of this girl arrived.
    He couldn’t let her go into the hotel.
    So how did he stop her?
    He found himself wistfully contemplating a less civilised and much simpler age when he could have simply slung her over his shoulder.
    This not being an option, he had to repress his natural instincts and opt for more subtle methods. As he sifted through the possibilities he was very aware that no matter what action he chose, he could not give this situation a happy outcome.
    The story had everything: sex, money and a beautiful woman—or in this case two!
    If she walked through those doors now he could imagine the reaction to that face and tomorrow’s headlines. He couldn’t allow it to happen.
    Rafael tried to narrow his focus to the here and now. It was a struggle: he had a mind wired to asking why…where; a question mark was a challenge to him.
    As he walked towards the road his mind was working fast as he sifted through the possibilities. What was she doing here?
    Coincidence did not even make it to the list.
    Rafael did not believe in coincidence any more than hebelieved in the Easter bunny or the general decency of his fellow man…or in this case woman. He did believe in protecting the people he cared about.
    His silver grey eyes narrowed. The brunette, her hair and other things bouncing gently, had begun crossing the road towards the hotel entrance, confirming all his worst suspicions.
    He felt something kick low in his stomach—anger, he told himself—as he watched the gentle sway of her hips in the tight jeans she wore.
    Of course there were decent and genuinely good people—people like Angelina. He liked to think he was not without the odd scruple, but this woman was not one of life’s innocents.
    It always amazed Rafael how that vulnerable minority managed to get through life with their ideals and their lives intact while most people were out