Spaniard's Seduction / Cole's Red-Hot Pursuit. Brenda Jackson

why else did you come all this way?”

      “Because—” He checked himself. “This is none of your concern.”

      Caitlyn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes skyward. “Oh, yes, because I’m not family, right?”

      He stared at her unblinkingly, until an uncomfortable prickle started beneath the loose hair at her nape and shivered down her spine.

      Hastily Caitlyn said, “I suggest that you spend the evening planning how best to cement the relationship with your father. I also think you should call tomorrow and let Phillip know that you’re coming and give him some idea what you wish to see him about.”

      The edge of his lips curled up. The smile—if it could be called that—was full of male superiority and mockery. And it set her teeth on edge. It was a smile that made it clear that he would not take advice. Not from her. Not from anyone. Rafaelo Carreras was his own man and he would do what the hell he wanted.

      Finally his lips moved. “It is not my way to let the opposition prepare.”

      Damn, but he was annoying with his formal diction, his immaculately tailored suit, and his give-not-one-inch manner…and that beautiful mouth that said such hateful, intransigent things.

      “He’s your father…not the opposition.” Caitlyn heard her voice rising.

      His face darkened and his lips parted.

      She struggled for calm. “Okay, okay. You don’t need to say it.”

      “Say what?”

      “That he’s not your father.”

      Rafaelo’s mouth snapped shut, but his expression remained black as thunder. As she watched that very same mouth compressed into the hard line she was starting to recognise. Then he said, “Phillip Saxon has done nothing to earn the title of father. Right now he is my enemy.”

      Caitlyn tore her gaze from that riveting mouth and met the pair of black, smouldering eyes, where she read his implacable hatred for his father. And unexpectedly her heart ached for Rafaelo—and the Saxons.

      After the disturbance he’d caused, Caitlyn was determined to escort Rafaelo politely off the estate herself even if the delay meant that she’d have to contend with Megan’s wrath. She wanted no further chance encounters between Rafaelo and the Saxons. At least, not until this day was over.

      But as she marched him back along the lane that led to the winery complex, Heath’s voice broke in from behind them, “Caitlyn, do you know what happened to Mother? She’s crying.”

      “Uh…” Caitlyn’s heart sank and she suppressed the urge to utter a short, sharp curse. Making her way to the verge of the lane to get out of the path of an approaching car, she said, “Kay’s crying?”

      Kay hadn’t cried since Roland had died. Her unnatural stoicism had caused the entire family much concern. But given today’s emotionally charged occasion, it was hardly surprising that she’d broken down. Beside her Rafaelo paused, too. Caitlyn was aware of his body quivering with tension as he slowly turned to face Heath Saxon.

      “I regret I said something that upset your mother.” Rafaelo stood his ground, lean and dangerous as a jungle cat. “But that was never my intention.”

      Caitlyn looked from one man to the other—half brother to half brother. Now that she knew the truth she could see the similarities. Heath was younger, of course. But the dark eyes, the slope of their angular cheekbones, the determined set of the jaw branded them blood kin. Would Heath recognise it?

      “What exactly did he say?”

      Heath spoke directly to Caitlyn. He didn’t even deign to look at the Spaniard. Misery sliced through Caitlyn as she recognised the icy set to Heath’s features. She sensed the whole unfortunate situation was about to escalate to the next level.

      And she had been the catalyst.

      Before she could answer, Rafaelo cut in, “I am here, you may address me. I have a name. It is Rafaelo Carreras.”

      Heath gave him a brief, insultingly dismissive look. “Did you say something?”

      Caitlyn tensed.

      But Rafaelo didn’t rise to the bait. “My name is Rafaelo Carreras—”

      “I don’t particularly care what your name is,” Heath interrupted. “I want to know what you said to upset my mother.”

      Enough was enough. That had been more than rude; it had been downright incendiary. Caitlyn stepped between the two men.

      “Heath—” She broke off and rested her hand on his arm, dearly familiar, and tried not to tremble.

      It was painful to see Heath and Rafaelo bristling at each other like this. Profiles so similar, so classic, like two sides of an ancient coin.

      “Heath, Caitlyn, Megan sent me to find you both. Aren’t you coming to join our guests for coffee?” Joshua Saxon was crossing the cobbled lane toward them.

      “First I want to hear what he—” Heath gestured to Rafaelo with a contemptuous flick of his head “—said to make Mother cry.”

      Joshua’s eyebrows jerked up. “Mother is crying?”

      “Yes, and he’s responsible.”

      Caitlyn felt terrible. She’d caused this. If she’d left well enough alone, Rafaelo would have confronted Phillip alone—without her and Kay present—and there would’ve been a whole different outcome.

      “Heath,” she said. “It isn’t his fault Kay is crying. It’s m—”

      “He might not have intended it.” Heath shoved his shoulders forward. “But whatever he said still upset her.” Heath ploughed forward, thrusting Caitlyn aside with one hand. She stumbled against the kerb stones. Heath made a grab for her, apologising profusely as she regained her footing.

      Rafaelo moved like lightning, his jaw clenched tight. “Be careful,” he snarled at Heath. To Caitlyn he said, “Are you okay?”

      She gave him a small smile. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.” The stumble had been worth it. It had checked Heath’s aggressive rush at Rafaelo.

      Except Rafaelo was staring at where Heath’s hand rested on her arm. Discomforted, feeling as though she’d been caught doing something wrong, Caitlyn pulled free.

      Heath raked his fingers through his hair. “You still haven’t told me what you said to my mother.” There was aggression in every line of Heath’s lean, loose-limbed body. Caitlyn knew that stance. Even in university days, Heath-the-hellraiser had never backed away from a brawl, often throwing the first punch.

      It would be terrible if he hit Rafaelo.

      And for once, Caitlyn wasn’t sure that Heath would win. Rafaelo looked tough and mean, his eyes narrowed, the small scar beneath his mouth pale against his dark skin. A fighter. An accomplished one, she suspected.

      That thought was disturbingly disloyal.

      Then Rafaelo’s shoulders squared. “I came here today because six months ago I learned something has been kept secret from me all my life. I learned that the man I believed is my father never was, that a man who lives across the world is.”

      Caitlyn felt a little of the tension seep out of her. Rafaelo was making every attempt to stay calm and measured in the face of Heath’s animosity. Perhaps the situation could still be saved.

      “What does that have to do with—”

      “You’re Heath? Correct?” asked Rafaelo.

      “Why are you asking?” demanded Heath.

      Rafaelo shifted his attention to the taller of the two Saxons. “Then you must be Joshua.”

      Joshua nodded, his eyes hooded.

      “I