Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1) (16 page)

Lady Aisling’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. ‘Charles and I are driving down to Chichester tomorrow to spend a few days on our yacht. Do you have any plans for the bank holiday weekend, Mr Delgado?’

‘Actually I’ve arranged to take Sabrina to my house in Portugal.’

‘This is the first time you have mentioned your plans to me, darling,’ Sabrina said sweetly while her eyes flashed daggers at Cruz.

‘I wanted to surprise you—darling.’

‘Oh, you have,’ she murmured in a syrupy tone that didn’t fool him for a minute.

He deemed it sensible to keep out of her line of fire for the rest of the evening. The party was a lavish affair, the food was divine and the vintage champagne superb, but Cruz could not throw off his black mood. He had everything he had ever dreamed of as a boy: money, several beautiful houses in various parts of the world and, perhaps more important than anything, financial security that enabled him to take care of his mother and sisters. He also currently went to bed every night with a stunning blonde who had proved herself willing to satisfy his every sexual whim, so why the hell wasn’t he happy?

‘How long do you plan for us to spend in Portugal?’ Sabrina demanded after the party had ended and they were travelling back to Eversleigh Hall in the chauffeur-driven Bentley.

‘A week or two.’

‘A week or
two
! May I remind you that I have a job? My lectures at the university—’

‘Have been rescheduled for next month,’ Cruz told her blandly. ‘I phoned the principal and explained that I needed to arrange for you to have special leave. Mrs Peters thought it was very romantic,’ he added drily.

‘Presumably you didn’t disillusion her and tell her that the only reason you require my presence in Portugal is to provide you with sex?’ Sabrina snapped. She felt furious that Cruz thought he owned her, although technically for the next five months he did, she conceded.

At the end of their business arrangement he would walk away from her. The thought hurt more than it had any right to. Each time they made love she found it harder to hide her emotional response to him, but she knew she must, because Cruz was not interested in her emotions. All he wanted from her was convenient sex while he was at Eversleigh to search for the map that had so far proved elusive.

She glanced at his chiselled profile and thought that he did not look particularly happy. Her heart lurched. Had he grown tired of their arrangement and bored of her? He had been in a curious mood all evening, and several times during the party she had caught him looking at her with an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

‘Tell me about your parents,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘You gave the impression that they hated each other.’

It was the first time since she had become his mistress that he had shown any curiosity about her personal life. ‘I don’t think they felt such a strong emotion as hate,’ Sabrina said slowly, ‘but they grew to dislike each other intensely. My mother told me that they had only dated a few times when she fell pregnant with me. I was very much an accident, but my grandfather, who was the earl at that time, insisted that my father married my mother, and threatened to disinherit him if he refused. My father stood at the altar with a figurative gun aimed at his head. It was hardly a good start, and the marriage deteriorated rapidly when Dad started spending most of his time in Brazil.’

‘I don’t understand how you can compare our situation ten years ago with your parents,’ Cruz said harshly. ‘No one forced me to propose to you.’

‘You only asked me because I was carrying your baby. There was a good chance that if we had married we would have ended up arguing constantly like I remember my parents doing, and like we seem to do now. We don’t discuss things,’ Sabrina muttered. ‘You lay down the law and expect me to comply. The trip to Portugal that you’ve decided on is a prime example of how you are determined to have your own way and you ride roughshod over my feelings.’

Cruz raked a hand through his hair. He was unused to being verbally crucified and he did not like the experience. ‘That was not my intention.’ Honesty forced him to acknowledge there was some truth in Sabrina’s words.

‘I suppose I might seem controlling sometimes,’ he said grudgingly. ‘After my father died I became responsible for my mother and sisters. Graciana and Jacinta were just ten years old and they missed their
papai
terribly. My mother crumbled without Vitor. She relied on me to earn money to keep the family and make all the decisions about my sisters’ upbringing. In effect I became a substitute father to the twins.’

Sabrina reflected that some aspects of their lives mirrored each other’s. ‘It was the same for me when my parents divorced and I felt that I had to take care of my brother,’ she admitted.

The car drew up outside Eversleigh Hall and as they walked into the house she murmured, ‘Do you realise that was the first time we have talked about the past without it turning into an argument with accusations on both sides?’

Cruz had been thinking the same thing. He recalled Sabrina had said that if they had talked more ten years ago maybe there would have been fewer misunderstandings between them. But when he had first met her he had been younger and less self-assured than he was now. He had been tormented with insecurity that he was a poorly paid manual labourer while Sabrina came from an aristocratic family and was used to a luxurious standard of living. It was true that they had not talked much, but he had shown her how he felt about her every time they had made love, he thought defensively.

When Sabrina had fallen pregnant he had not risked initiating sex because he had believed it could be dangerous for her and their unborn child.

He put his hand on her arm as she was about to walk up the stairs. ‘Will you join me in the library for a nightcap?’ He saw her look of surprise. Usually he liked to have a drink while he checked his business emails before he joined her in bed. ‘I’m beginning to realise that you were right when you said that we needed to talk about what happened ten years ago,’ he said roughly.

He poured whisky into two glasses, added lemonade to one, knowing it was how Sabrina preferred it, and handed her drink to her before he joined her on the sofa.

‘I accept that I was perhaps overly protective of you while you were pregnant,’ he admitted. ‘Growing up in the
favela
, my experiences of women in pregnancy were mostly bad and led me to believe that childbirth was potentially life-threatening for both mother and infant. Recently there have been improvements in health and social care for the poorest of Brazil’s population but twenty years ago it was a different story. My mother almost died during one of her pregnancies. I remember when I was about twelve years old Mamãe miscarried late in her pregnancy. She lost so much blood and I thought she could not possibly survive.’

‘It must have been a frightening experience for you.’ Sabrina was appalled as she tried to imagine the terrible scene Cruz had witnessed when he had been a boy. ‘Were you concerned for our baby during my pregnancy?’

‘I was terrified for you and the child. When I came up from the mineshaft and was told that you were in hospital and had been bleeding heavily, it was like I had fallen back into a nightmare, only it was you instead of my mother whose life was in danger, and my own child not a sibling whose life was over before it had begun.’

A lump formed in Sabrina’s throat. ‘I thought you were angry with me. You hardly spoke after the miscarriage, and you avoided looking at me.’

‘I felt guilty.’ Cruz’s jaw clenched. ‘If you had died, it would have been my fault. You had told me you felt unwell that morning and I should have stayed with you instead of going to work. But I needed to earn money. In a few months there was going to be a new mouth to feed, and I was determined that my child would never go hungry like I often did when I was growing up.’

‘I wish you had told me how you had been affected by your mother’s experiences. It would have helped me to understand why you acted the way you did when I became pregnant.’ Sabrina bit her lip. ‘I’d hoped you would come to Eversleigh after me. I was unaware that your father had died.’

‘I assumed when I didn’t hear from you after Vitor’s death that you didn’t want anything more to do with me.’ Cruz looked at her intently. ‘If you had known about my father would you have come back to Brazil?’

‘Of course I would have done. It makes me sad to think that you were on your own trying to help your mother and sisters through their grief while you were grieving for your father.’

Something tight and hard inside Cruz softened a little. He finished his Scotch and caught Sabrina’s hand in his. ‘Let’s go to bed.’ He watched her eyes turn smoky with a desire that matched his own. ‘I arranged the trip to Portugal because you were right about us needing to lay the past to rest. My villa is beautiful and secluded, but more importantly it represents neutral territory that holds no painful memories for either of us. Maybe at Quinta na Floresta we will find the courage to be honest with each other so that we can both move forwards with our lives.’

* * *

Cruz’s villa was situated in the stunning Sintra National Park on the west coast of Portugal. On the half-hour journey from Lisbon in his open-topped sports car they drove past miles of golden beaches on one side, and verdant forest on the other.

The feel of the warm sun on her face and the wind blowing her hair helped to ease Sabrina’s tension. It was the first time she had been away from Eversleigh for months, and, although she loved her home, she realised that the responsibility of running the estate had become a burden. Since the plane had landed in Portugal she had felt a sense of freedom and excitement at sharing a holiday with Cruz. Sun, sea and plenty of sex were guaranteed! But she also hoped that on neutral territory they would be able to set aside the hostility and resentment that had simmered between them in England.

‘The landscape is breathtaking,’ she commented. ‘It’s amazing that dense woodland grows so close to the coastline.’

‘This area of Portugal is known historically as the place where the land ends and the sea begins. The national park boasts some of the most spectacular scenery in the world.’

She gave a sideways glance at Cruz and thought that he looked pretty spectacular in his designer shades, with his dark hair tousled by the wind as the car raced along the coastal highway. ‘What made you choose to buy a house in Portugal? Was it because Portuguese is the national language in Brazil?’

‘The language was one factor. I brought my mother here to visit her sister and she felt immediately at home. Mamãe speaks very little English, but that’s not a problem for her here. I wanted to base myself in Europe and I fell in love with Quinta na Floresta.’

Cruz turned the car onto a long gravel driveway and Sabrina caught her breath when the house came into view. ‘When you said you owned a villa I wasn’t expecting a palace.’

He laughed. ‘It was actually a palace originally, built by a bishop back in the sixteenth century. The building has been updated many times over the years but many of the historic features remain. The olive grove is over two hundred years old and there are forty acres of vineyards. I plan to retire here one day and spend my days inspecting my grapes and drinking fine wine.’

‘I can understand why you would never want to leave,’ Sabrina murmured as she climbed out of the car and looked at the house. The walls were painted cream and the shutters at the windows were soft olive-green, contrasting with the terracotta roof tiles. Exotic trees and shrubs with vividly coloured flowers stood against the dense blue sky. Encircling the house was a wide moat and access to the front door was over a pretty white stone bridge.

Cruz led the way across a cool marble-floored entrance hall, off which there were numerous elegant rooms decorated in muted pastel shades. As they passed a glass-roofed garden room Sabrina glimpsed the deep blue of a swimming pool beyond the French doors. She followed him outside and discovered that the villa had been built around a central courtyard. At its centre was an ornamental pool and magnificent fountain that sent jets of water shooting high into the sky.

‘I love how the spray is cooling on your skin,’ she said, stepping closer to the fountain. ‘This is just lovely. It’s so peaceful here, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist.’ She leaned forward, intrigued by the pattern carved all around the central stone plinth of the fountain, and her heart missed a beat. ‘It says...
Luiz
.’ Deep inside her she felt as though a knot were being tightened.

‘I commissioned the fountain to be built soon after I bought the house, as a memorial to our son.’

‘But—how did you know that I had given him the name Luiz?’ she said huskily.

‘I
didn’t
know you had named the baby.’ Cruz’s eyes narrowed on her suddenly pale face. ‘You showed no emotion after the miscarriage and you seemed impatient to return to England. I assumed you wanted to forget everything that had happened and get on with the plans you had made before we met. Although our son had never lived, I knew I would never forget about him and in my heart I called him Luiz.’

The knot inside Sabrina pulled tighter. ‘I will never forget him either. Sometimes I wonder what he would be like if he had lived. I wish...’ She broke off and swallowed in an effort to ease the ache in her throat. She felt Cruz move closer to her, but she dared not look at him, afraid she would see anger on his face, blame that she should have taken better care of their child when he had been developing inside her.

‘What do you wish?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She could not bring herself to tell him that she wished she could turn the clock back to the day four months into her pregnancy when she had made the fateful decision to ride her horse. She would never know if it had been the reason for the miscarriage but her sense of guilt would always haunt her.

Lost in her thoughts, Sabrina watched the droplets of water from the fountain cascade through the air and sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. She felt moisture on her face and knew it was tears, not spray, that she wiped from her cheeks with trembling fingers.