Fliss felt proud to be able to point out to the two men that it was her mother’s family who had stepped in and saved them from penury—who had cared enough about them to want to do that.
She could feel Vidal watching her, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him so that he could show her the contempt he felt for her.
‘Are there any questions you wish to ask now about your late father’s bequest to you before we continue?’ the lawyer invited.
Fliss took a deep steadying breath. Here it was—the opportunity she so desperately wanted to ask the question that she so much wanted answering.
‘There is something.’ She had turned her body slightly in her chair, so that she was facing the lawyer and not Vidal, but she was still conscious of the fact that Vidal was focusing on her. ‘I know that there was a family arrangement that my father would marry a girl who had been picked out for him as his future wife by his grandmother, but according to the letter you sent me he never married.’
‘That is correct,’ Señor Gonzales agreed.
‘What happened? Why didn’t he marry her?’
‘Señor Gonzales is unable to provide you with the answer to that question.’
The harsh, incisive slice of Vidal’s voice lacerated the small silence that had followed her question, causing Fliss to turn round and look at him.
‘However, I can. Your father did not marry Isabella y Fontera because her family withdrew from the match. Though they made some other excuse, it was likely they got wind of the scandal surrounding him. His health had deteriorated, too, so no more matchmaking attempts were made. What were you hoping to hear? That he withdrew from it out of guilt and regret? I’m sorry to disappoint you. Felipe was not the sort of man to go against our grandmother.’
Fliss could feel her nails biting into her palms as she made small angry fists of rejection. The golden gaze pinned her own and held it, making it impossible for her to escape from Vidal’s thorough scrutiny of her. The way he was looking at her made her feel as though he would take possession of her mind and control her very thoughts if she let him. But of course there was no way she was going to do that. Pity indeed the woman he eventually married—because she would be expected to surrender the whole of herself, mind and body, to his control.
Her heart jolted against her ribs. In absolute contempt for what he was, Fliss assured herself, and certainly not because any foolish part of her was tempted to wonder what it would be like to be possessed so completely by a man like Vidal.
‘What happened in the past happened, and I’d suggest that you would be a lot happier if you allowed yourself to move on from it.’
Fliss dragged her thoughts back from the dangerous sensuality they had escaped to and made herself focus on the sharp timbre of Vidal’s voice.
‘If you questioned your mother as antagonistically as you have spoken here you must have caused her a great deal of pain by never allowing the matter to be forgotten.’
The callousness of his accusation almost took Fliss’s breath away. She had to fight not to let him see how easily he had found where she was most vulnerable, and defended herself immediately. ‘My mother did not want to forget my father. She wore this locket he gave her until the day she died. She never stopped loving him.’
The gold locket chain shimmered with the agitated movement of the pulse beating at the base of Fliss’s throat. Vidal could remember how it had shimmered with an equal but very different intensity of emotion the day Felipe had fastened it around Fliss’s mother’s neck.
It had been here in Granada that Felipe had bought the necklace for her. He had found them when they were on their way to visit the Alhambra, announcing that some unexpected business had brought him there from the family estate. They had been walking past a jeweller’s shop when he had caught up with them, and when Vidal had told Felipe that it was Annabel’s birthday his uncle had insisted on going into the shop and buying the trinket for her.
Vidal shook his head, dragging his thoughts back to the present.
‘The house is mine to do with as I wish, as I understand it,’ Fliss said, and dared Vidal to contradict her.
‘That is true,’ the lawyer intervened. ‘But since the house was originally part of the ducal estate it makes sense for Vidal to buy it from you. After all, you can have no wish for the responsibility of such a property.’
‘You want to buy the house from me?’ she challenged Vidal, her gaze steady.
‘Yes. Surely you must have expected that I would? As Señor Gonzales has just said, the house belonged originally to the estate. If you are concerned that I might try to cheat you out of its true value—and I am sure that you are, given your obvious hostility towards me—I can assure you that I am not, and that it will be independently and professionally valued.’