The Stand-In Bride. Lucy Gordon

He stood a good six foot two inches tall, with a lean, hard body that he carried like an athlete.

      Only on his face did Maggie see what she had expected, a look of pride and arrogance that she guessed had been imprinted there at the hour of his birth. And right now, to pride and arrogance was added anger. If she’d cherished a hope that he hadn’t heard all her frank words, a look at his black, snapping eyes would have dispelled it.

      But for the moment anger was just below the surface, almost concealed by a layer of cool courtesy. ‘Good evening, Catalina,’ he said calmly. ‘Will you be so kind as to introduce me to this lady?’

      Catalina pulled herself together. ‘Señora Margarita Cortez, Don Sebastian de Santiago.’

      Sebastian inclined his head curtly. ‘Good evening, Señora. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard much about you, although I admit that I had not expected to find you so young.’

      His eyes flickered over her as he spoke, as though he were sizing her up, prior to dismissal.

      Maggie raised her chin, refusing to be discomposed.

      ‘I was not informed of any age qualifications for my job, Señor,’ she replied crisply. ‘Only that I should speak fluent Spanish, and be able to introduce Catalina to English customs.’

      He seemed a little surprised that she had turned his remark back on him. He surveyed her ironically.

      ‘Then permit me to say that you seem to have exceeded your brief. Was it part of the terms of your employment to criticise me to my bride, or is that an English custom I’ve never heard of before?’

      ‘You take a light-hearted conversation too seriously, Señor,’ Maggie said, managing to sound amused. ‘Catalina and I have enjoyed an evening at the theatre, followed by a meal, and we were in the mood to talk nonsense.’

      ‘I see,’ he said sardonically. ‘So you were talking nonsense when you told her that she couldn’t be forced into marriage with an ogre. I can’t tell you how greatly that relieves my mind. For if you were to seriously oppose me, I tremble to think of my fate.’

      ‘So do I,’ she riposted. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

      He raised his eyebrows slightly, but otherwise didn’t deign to react.

      ‘It’s time for me to be going home,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll just call a cab—’

      He moved swiftly to put himself between her and the telephone. ‘Before you do, perhaps you could favour me with an account of your evening. Did you enjoy Julius Caesar?’

      ‘Very much,’ Catalina burst out before Maggie could stop her. ‘Such a great play, and an inspired performance. We were thrilled, weren’t we, Maggie?’

      ‘Yes, do tell me.’ He turned to her. ‘Did you enjoy the performance as much as Catalina—?’

      Maggie’s alarm bells rang. ‘Don Sebastian—’

      ‘Or will you, at least, have the sense to admit the truth?’ he cut across her sharply. ‘Neither of you were there tonight.’

      ‘But we were,’ Catalina plunged on, unwisely. ‘Truly, we were.’

      ‘That’s enough,’ Maggie said, laying a hand on the girl’s arm. ‘There’s no need for this, Catalina. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps it’s Don Sebastian who should be ashamed, for spying on us.’

      ‘That was a most unwise remark, Señora,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I do not owe you or anyone an account of my actions, but I will tell you this. I arrived unexpectedly and decided to join you at the theatre. When it was clear that you weren’t there, I returned here to wait for you. It’s now past one in the morning, and if you know what’s good for you, you will explain exactly where you were, and who you met.’

      ‘How dare you?’ Maggie snapped. ‘We met nobody. Catalina has been in my company, and mine alone, the whole evening.’

      ‘Dressed like that?’ he asked scathingly, taking in the elegantly sexy contours of her dress. ‘I don’t think so. Women flaunt themselves for men, not each other.’

      ‘Piffle!’ Maggie said, losing her temper. ‘Catalina likes to dress up for the pleasure of it, as does any young girl. I dressed up to keep her company.’

      ‘You’ll forgive my not accepting your word,’ he said coldly.

      ‘No, I won’t forgive you, because I don’t tell lies.’

      ‘But Catalina does. Under your chaperonage she feels free to deceive me. Now I know the kind of example you set her. You take her out gallivanting heaven knows where, and encourage her to lie about where you’ve been.’

      ‘I didn’t encourage her—I couldn’t stop her. Yes, it was a stupid lie, but only a small one, and it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t act like a man bringing the word down from the mountain. Stop making such an issue of something so trivial. She’s eighteen, for pity’s sake, and entitled to some innocent fun.’

      ‘I will be the judge of that.’

      From behind the bedroom door came the sound of a groan.

      ‘Poor Isabella,’ Catalina said hurriedly. ‘I was forgetting that she isn’t well. I should go to her.’

      ‘Yes, do,’ Maggie advised, regarding Don Sebastian out of glinting eyes. ‘We’ll fight better without you.’

      Catalina scuttled away, leaving the other two eyeing each other like jousters. Again Maggie had the sensation of danger that she’d felt in the first moments of meeting him. She wasn’t frightened. There was something about danger that exhilarated her when she could meet it head-on. Perhaps he should be afraid.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘YOU are right, Señora,’ Don Sebastian said. ‘My bride is innocent in this matter. The blame lies with the woman charged with her welfare, who has so notably failed in her responsibilities. For the last time, I demand that you tell me where you have been.’

      ‘To the theatre.’

      ‘To see what?’

      ‘A light-hearted musical. Not as worthy and improving as Julius Caesar, but it’s Christmas and neither of us was in the mood for war and murder.’

      ‘And does this light-hearted musical have a title?’ he growled. He knew she was prevaricating.

      Maggie sighed. ‘Yes. It’s called Your Place Or Mine?’ she said reluctantly, realising how it sounded.

      ‘Your Place Or Mine?’ he echoed. ‘I suppose that tells me all I need to know about the kind of sleazy entertainment you think suitable for a sheltered young girl.’

      ‘Rubbish,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘The title is misleading. It isn’t sleazy at all—just a little bit naughty, but basically innocent.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Don Sebastian snatched up a newspaper he had been reading to pass the time, and pointed to an advertisement for the show they had just seen. ‘Outrageous,’ he quoted. ‘Titillating! Don’t take your grandmother!’

      Maggie struggled to stop her lips twitching, and failed.

      ‘I am amusing you?’ Don Sebastian asked in a warning voice.

      ‘Yes, frankly, you are. If you knew anything about theatre advertising—which you clearly don’t—you’d realise that this kind of publicity is deliberately angled to make the public think a show more shocking than it is. “Don’t take your grandmother,” really means that even your grandmother wouldn’t be shocked. My own grandmother would have loved it.’

      ‘I can well believe that.’

      ‘Meaning? Meaning?’

      ‘Do you wish me to spell it out?’