His Suitable Bride(162)

CHAPTER EIGHT


CINDERELLA WAS WELL and truly back from the ball.

Alexa’s smile was wry as she unlocked her front door and let herself back into her cottage after a long day at work. The contrast between the luxury and style of Santos’s beautiful house outside Seville and this tiny home, with its slightly shabby décor and worn appearance, couldn’t have been much greater. But at least this was a home and not a showplace as the Seville house had been. A showplace with no heart, and no real warmth of any sort.

Much like its owner.

She certainly wouldn’t trade one for the other any day. Not even when her own little cottage felt as chilled and unwelcoming as it did now. The central-heating timer must be on the blink again.

The weather too was as different as it could be from the mild temperatures she had left behind in Spain. Here in Yorkshire, the wind was a biting, bitter chill, and the forecast was for it to get even colder over the weekend. There were even suggestions of a storm. Certainly the sky had looked heavy enough as she had driven back up the steep winding road that led from the library to her home. She just prayed that the heating would work once she checked on it and switched it on manually.

The house was just beginning to lose the chilly edge from the temperature and she had started to prepare an evening meal when there was an unexpected ring at the doorbell.

Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone and the cottage was far enough from the village to deter casual callers, with no one living near enough to be described as a neighbour. Wiping her flour-covered fingers on a handy tea towel, she hurried down the corridor to answer the summons.

With no glass pane in the door to give her any clue, no way of seeing just what sort of a figure might be at the door, she had no warning. And so the sight that met her eyes when she pulled it open had her losing all her breath in one shocked gasp and taking a couple of stunned, shaky steps backwards.

Santos Cordero stood there, big and dark and large as life. Or perhaps even larger than life, because that was how he seemed with his powerful frame filling the small doorway, his broad shoulders almost blocking out the view of her slightly unkempt garden, his black hair blown wildly over his forehead by the whirling winds that howled amongst the trees. His eyes were almost as cold and bleak as the darkening sky and it seemed that the weather prediction of hailstorms had been an accurate one, with white pellets spinning in the air, and some of them had settled on his head, glistening among the black strands like melting diamonds.

‘Santos!’

‘Buenas tardes, señorita.’

If the faint flicker of something across his sensual mouth was supposed to have been an attempt at a smile then it failed completely, switching on and then off again with a speed that made her wonder if it had ever been there. His dour frown and hooded eyes seemed much more his natural expression, destroying the memory of the devastating smile she had experienced so very briefly only the week before.

But nothing could wipe away the sheer impact of the man. Even now, huddled into a navy-blue coat, shoulders hunched against the icy winds, he was still the most shockingly handsome man she had ever seen. And his naturally golden skin seemed even more exotic when contrasted with the dull tones of the wintry landscape surrounding him.

‘What are you doing here?’

She knew she sounded ungracious but shock had pushed the words from her mouth. He was the last person she had expected or wanted turning up on her doorstep. Or at least that was what her rational mind allowed her to admit to. The real truth was that some wickedly unwanted, instinctive inner response had made her heart clench in instant reaction in the moment that she had recognised his dark, stunning features.

‘I came to return your property.’

Santos lifted one hand to display a silvery plastic carrier bag that looked strangely out of place in his strong masculine grip.

‘My …? What property?’

‘Your shoes.’

‘You have to be joking! If you think that I would believe that anyone would travel all the way from Seville, fly across the Channel and then drive here, just to return a pair of shoes, then …’

She broke off hastily, choking to a halt as Santos lifted the carrier bag even higher and opened it at the top, just enough for her to be able to get a glimpse of its contents. The sight of the pale pink leather sent a hot tide of blood rushing into her cheeks. And the gleam of something darkly wicked deep in those unusual eyes only added to her embarrassment.

‘You did that! There was no need!’

Santos shrugged off her protest.

‘I wanted to return your property, but that was not the only reason I came here.’

‘Putting them in a parcel and posting them off would have been enough.’