The Spaniard's Untouched Bride. Maisey Yates

in her mind.

      “Don’t fall asleep,” he said.

      She blinked. Of course. Of course that was what he was asking her to do. He wasn’t asking her to stay with him. As in...to stay in the house. As in, to be Camilla with him.

      He didn’t know who she was. And frankly, she didn’t know who he was.

      It had been much easier when he was nothing more than the faceless villain who had purchased her father’s horses. Who had taken advantage of the state of the rancho, and of her father’s debts.

      He did not seem like a villain now. He was kind. And he cared about the horses. Also, surprisingly, he seemed to care whether or not she died. Though he had made it pretty clear that it was an investigation he wanted to avoid. But perhaps, he also cared whether or not she was dead.

      It was strangely warming.

      But then, that perhaps could also be the head injury.

      Suddenly, the doors opened and the doctor and Juan came into the room. She was caught up in a flurry of being checked over, examined. But thank God, it seemed as though she wouldn’t have to go to a hospital. The doctor looked into her eyes and deemed them clear.

      And then he ushered Juan and Matías from the room. The older man looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

      “Your name?”

      “Cam,” she responded.

      “Age?”

      She looked away. “Fourteen.”

      “Have you any parents?”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      “Are you going to tell me the truth?” The older man looked at her with eyes that were far too piercing, far too knowing.

      She shook her head, her throat growing dry. “That is as much of the truth as I can tell you.”

      “I must tell you,” the doctor said. “I care a great deal for Matías. I treated him when he was a boy. When that father of his would injure him, give him a black eye, I was the one the staff would call to care for him, and I care for him still. I will not have him taken advantage of.”

      “I don’t want to take advantage of him,” she said.

      “I believe you. I’m not sure why. Only that I spend a great deal of my time taking care of people. Looking at people. That is the only reason your ruse has worked so far. People like Matías... They train themselves to never look at anyone too closely. But that is what I do. Examine people.”

      “My head is all right?” she asked.

      “Yes. Though I recommend you do not sleep outside. And that you don’t work out in the sun for a few days. I will speak to Matías about this.”

      When the old doctor left the room her stomach twisted. What if he was lying? What if he was going to betray her? Tell her secret? Clearly, he had recognized that she was a woman and not a boy. He had no actual reason to trust her, no matter what he said. Except for some reason she also had a feeling that he would not lie when the truth would serve just as easily.

      Because he’d had no reason to placate her. None at all. He could have raised the alarm immediately when he had realized that she was a woman, but instead he had sent Matías and Juan from the room.

      Still, she picked at her fingernails, twisted her fingers, nerves overtaking her as she waited.

      Matías came back in, his expression dark, stormy. “The doctor has recommended that I set up a room for you inside the house, at least for the next couple of nights. To make you more comfortable, and to ensure that you aren’t by yourself.”

      “Thank you,” she said, feeling guilty now. Because this was becoming more than simply taking care of the horses. This was becoming something more.

      He was extending hospitality to her now, and she was lying to him.

      But it wasn’t to hurt him. It wasn’t to take advantage of him. It was for Fuego.

      Yes, for Fuego, but also for her own damaged heart. Because she had lost so much, and she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of not having the horses, too.

      She discovered fairly quickly that, in fact, a great many members of Matías’s household staff were women.

      She looked quizzically at the elderly woman who led her to the bedroom. “He told me he didn’t hire women,” she commented.

      “He does not hire young women,” she replied. “Particularly not to work with the horses. He is rarely home, but he is often out at the stables when he’s here. So, those are the people he interacts with most often.” She shook her head. “He had quite a few girls make appalling fools of themselves for him some years ago.”

      Camilla took some sense of relief in that assurance as she put on the sweats that had been brought to her from her quarters. At least she hadn’t engaged in this ruse because of a false rumor.

      That would have been truly untenable.

      But she wasn’t going to concern herself with that. Not now. She settled herself into the bed—the softest thing she had felt against her skin in months—and tried to stay awake, simply because she felt comfortable, truly comfortable, in the way she had grown up for the first time in so long she wanted to bask in it.

      But she couldn’t stay awake. And eventually, she gave in and let sleep pull her under.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      IT WAS THE screams that woke him up. Then at first, he was convinced that he was dreaming. Dreaming of that day that was buried back in his mind, so deep, so far, that his waking consciousness would never dare dredge it up. But in his dreams...his dreams were all women and horses screaming.

      But it took only a few moments for him to realize that it wasn’t screaming in his head. But in reality.

      And he had one thought, only one thought, that the screams were coming from Liliana.

      He tore himself out of bed and ran across the house, feeling a jumble of emotions, mixed memories combined with the reality of what was happening. Of course he should never have brought a woman here. Not one so delicate as she was.

      Of course he should have known that the curse of the Navarro men—or rather, the women that they took as their own—would come to pass.

      Ridiculous. She was having a nightmare, or, she had seen a spider. Something easily explainable. He was telling himself that as he made his way down the hall. But then he heard the screams of his housekeeper, and that was when true fear overtook him.

      Heart raging, sweat beading on his back, he raced to Liliana’s room, only to discover that the door was flung open wide, as was the window, her lacy curtains blowing in the breeze. They were three floors up.

      Surely, if Liliana wasn’t happy she wouldn’t resort to flinging herself out a window to escape him. All she would’ve had to do was ask.

      That absurd thought wormed its way into his mind as he ran to the window and looked down below, half expecting to see her inert, white nightgown-clad form crumpled in the grass. But she was not there.

      He looked across the broad expanse of lawn and saw her. That white, flowing figure—her nightgown and her pale blond hair—whipping in the breeze. But she was not alone. There was a black shadow that seemed to be consuming her, holding her fast.

      Diego.

      He knew it. Deep in his bones, he knew. His brother had stolen his bride.

      And then, just like that, they were gone. Disappeared completely. Diego had Liliana.

      He issued orders to his staff in rapid-fire Spanish, and only after a few moments did he