Santiago's Command Read Free Page A

sweep down her tumbling waist-length hair in an unrealistic but eye-catching pale silvery blonde.
    In all the pictures Santiago had seen she had worn her hair in a puritanical elegant chignon that had exposed the swanlike curve of her pale throat and the determined angle of her delicate jaw. Her hairstyle changed, he presumed, depending on what part she was playing, and he could see the tumbling pre-Raphaelite curls appealing to his brother … actually appealing to any man.
    ‘Your colouring is not exactly local …’
    His glance moved over the delicate contours of her face. Up close her pale creamy skin had an almost opalescent sheen, the glow of roses on her smooth cheeks not the result of make-up; astonishingly she wore none. Despite her fair colouring her long curling lashes and arched feathery brows were dark. A purist might say her lush, sensuous lips were too full for her delicate features, but even the harshest criticcould have found no room for criticism with her eyes. Wide spaced and slightly slanted, they were an astonishing shade of dramatic blue, the electric colour emphasised by the black rim surrounding the iris.
    ‘Oh …’ Lucy lifted a hand to her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she gave a rueful smile, receiving in response a midnight stare. His expression was still shuttered but she was conscious of inexplicable hostility in his body language.
    Was it personal or was he like this with everyone? Feeling increasingly antagonistic—the man’s people skills could definitely do with some work—Lucy forced a smile as she admitted lightly, ‘I suppose I do stick out a little.’
    His dark eyes slid the length of her body.
    The studied insolence in his stare brought an angry sparkle to her eyes. She fought the impulse to cover herself with her hands. Forget poor people skills—the man’s horse had better manners than him.
    ‘And you try so hard to fade into the background.’
    A choking sound left her throat. ‘Just what is your problem? I’m not trespassing, you know … but you probably are.’ He had the look of someone who did not recognise boundaries.
    ‘I am trespassing?’ He looked amused by the suggestion. ‘I am Santiago Silva.’
    ‘Should I curtsy or bow?’ So this was the man who was literally lord of all he surveyed, including the property that Harriet rented. From what her friend had told her, he was ‘a great guy’. Odd—Harriet was normally a pretty good judge of character.
    Placing a hand on a hip, oblivious to the sexually provocative style of her pose, she watched as his firm sensual mouth lifted at the corners in a smile that did not touch hishard eyes—they held the warmth of a diamond chip as he returned her stare.
    ‘I had no idea we had such a famous—or should that be infamous?—visitor to the area, Miss Fitzgerald.’ He saw her flinch and felt a stab of savage satisfaction as he thought,
Gotcha!

CHAPTER TWO
    A FAMILIAR cold, clammy fist tightened in the pit of Lucy’s stomach as she felt her expression freeze over. She cursed herself for being surprised that anyone would recognise her here in Spain; like they said, it was a small world and, with the advent of social networking, even smaller.
    It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that what total strangers chose to think about her was their problem, not hers, it still hurt, and it made her angry that the stares and contemptuous comments had the power to make her want to crawl away into a corner and hide, which according to some was exactly what she had been doing for four years.
    Pride enabled her to lift her chin and train her level stare at his face. She was not going to hide any more; she had done nothing wrong. The gagging injunction was long gone; there was no longer anything stopping her telling her side. Nothing but the stubborn conviction that as the innocent victim she shouldn’t have to explain to anyone; after all, the people that mattered had never believed any of the