Modern Romance January Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

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 see the boy standing there in the hall, his eyes wide, fear etched over his youthful face.

      “Go back to bed,” he commanded.

      “What happened?” he asked.

      “Liliana has been taken,” he responded, not seeing any point in being dishonest.

      The boy swore. “By who?”

      “By my brother.”

      Camilla still wasn’t allowed to go back to work because of her injury, and that meant that she was currently tied to the house, wandering the halls and feeling far too conspicuous.

      But if anyone had been even close to looking at her before, they were not doing so now. Everyone was consumed with the search for Liliana Hart, who had been—it appeared—kidnapped out of her bedroom window by Matías’s older brother.

      Diego Navarro.

      And as that search waged on, Camilla had far too much time to simply sit and think. To wonder about the manner of man Diego was, and to attempt to piece it together with what kind of information she had gotten from the doctor. About what kind of man Matías’s father had been.

      The old doctor had said that Matías had been injured by his father, and he had spoken of it as though it had been routine. Camilla could scarcely wrap her mind around that. Around such horror.

      She tried to remember if she had ever heard anything about Matías’s father, but she couldn’t remember, as all of those rumors were obscured by those about his brother. People did talk about Diego. About how his pregnant wife had died, and how the circumstances had all seemed quite suspicious.

      But of course, all of this had been done under the guise of saying prayers for the family, careful bits of gossip wrapped in concern.

      Matías, for all that he had a reputation of being hard, also had a reputation for being good.

      She had the feeling that none of the other Navarro men held such a claim.

      She heard footsteps and scampered deeper into the library, where she was currently attempting to waste some hours. She settled into an armchair near the fireplace, grateful that the only light in the room came from the flames there and a small lamp positioned across the room.

      Then she heard voices outside the door.

      “Any word at all?” It was Matías’s voice.

      “None,” came an unfamiliar response. “The grounds were searched thoroughly, but somehow, they seemed to have disappeared by the time we got to where the car was abandoned.”

      Matías let out a derisive snort. “I imagine, knowing my brother, a helicopter was involved.”

      Camilla raised her brows, putting her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound that might give her away.

      “You are certain it was your brother?”

      “Oh, I am certain. There is little I would put beyond his boundaries.”

      “I am sorry,” the other man said. “But if they are not in Spain any longer there isn’t much we can do. We have no leads.”

      “And my brother has not resurfaced anywhere else in Europe yet,” Matías said. “I’ve been keeping watch on his various haunts. Or rather, having certain people in my employ do so. Diego seems to have gone underground.”

      “We will do our