Latin Lovers: A Convenient Bridegroom / In the Spaniard's Bed / The Martinez Marriage Revenge

She lifted her left wrist and checked the time. A few minutes past six. There was no reason for her to rise this early, but she couldn’t just lie in bed.

Aysha thrust aside the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The refrigerator held a half-empty bottle of fruit juice, a partly eaten sandwich, and an apple.

Not exactly required sustenance to jump-start the day, she decided wryly. So, she’d go shopping, stop off at a café for breakfast, then come back, change, and prepare to meet Teresa at ten. Meantime she’d try out the pool.

It was almost seven when she emerged, and she blotted off the excess moisture, then wrapped the towel sarong-wise and re-entered the house.

Within minutes the phone rang, and she reached for it automatically.

‘You slept well?’

Aysha drew in a deep breath at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Did you expect me not to?’

There was a faint pause. ‘Don’t push it too far, cara,’ Carlo drawled in husky warning.

‘I’m trembling,’ she evinced sweetly.

‘So you should be.’ His voice tightened, and acquired a depth that sent goosebumps scudding over the surface of her skin.

‘Intimidation isn’t on my list.’

‘Nor is false accusation on mine.’

With just the slightest lack of care, this could easily digress into something they both might regret.

With considerable effort she banked down the anger, and aimed for politeness. ‘Is there a purpose to your call, other than to enquire if I got any sleep?’ She thought she managed quite well. ‘I have a host of things to do.’

‘Grazie.’

She winced at the intended sarcasm. ‘Prego,’ she concluded graciously, and disconnected the phone.

On reflection, it wasn’t the best of days, but nor was it the worst. Teresa was in fine form, and so consumed with her list of Things to Do, Aysha doubted her own preoccupation was even noticed. Which was just as well, for she couldn’t have borne the string of inevitable questions her mother would deem it necessary to ask.

‘You’re looking a little peaky, darling. You’re not coming down with something, are you?’

‘A headache, Mamma.’ It wasn’t too far from the truth.

Teresa frowned with concern. ‘Take some tablets, and get some rest.’

As if rest was the panacea for everything! ‘Carlo and I are attending the sculpture exhibition at the Gallery tonight.’

‘It’s just as well Carlo is whisking you away to the Coast for the weekend. The break will do you good.’

Somehow Aysha doubted it.

The Gallery held a diverse mix of invited guests, some of whom attended solely to be seen and hopefully make the social pages. Others came to admire, with a view to adding to their collection.

Carlo and Aysha fell into a separate category. A close friend was one of the exhibiting artists and they wanted to add their support.

‘Ciao, bella,’ a male voice greeted, and Aysha turned to face the extraordinarily handsome young man who’d sent his personal invitation.

‘Bruno!’ She flung her arms wide and gave him an enthusiastic hug. ‘How are you?’

‘The better for seeing you.’ He lowered his head and bestowed a kiss to each cheek in turn. ‘Damn Carlo for snaring you first.’ He withdrew gently and looked deeply into those smoky grey eyes, then he turned towards Carlo and lifted one eyebrow in silent query. ‘Carlo, amici. Come stai?’

Something passed between both men. Aysha glimpsed it, and sought to avert any swing in the territorial parameters by tucking one hand through Carlo’s arm.

‘Come show us your exhibits.’

For the next half-hour they wandered the large room, pausing to examine and comment, or converse with a few of the fellow guests.

Aysha moved towards a neighbouring exhibit as Carlo was temporarily waylaid by a business acquaintance.

‘Your lips curve wide with a generous smile, yet your eyes are sad,’ said Bruno. ‘Why?’

The wedding is a week tomorrow.’ She gave a graceful shrug. ‘Teresa and I have been shopping together every day, and nearly every night Carlo and I have been out.’

‘Sad, cara,’ Bruno reiterated. ‘I didn’t say tired. If Carlo isn’t taking care of you, he will answer to me.’

She summoned a wicked smile and her eyes sparkled with hidden laughter. ‘Swords at dawn? Or should that be pistols?’

‘I would take pleasure in breaking his nose.’

She turned to check on the subject of their discussion, and stiffened. Bruno, acutely perceptive, shifted his head and followed her gaze. ‘Ah, the infamous Nina.’

The statuesque brunette looked stunning in red, the soft material hugging every curve like a well-fitting glove.

Bruno leant down and said close to Aysha’s ear, ‘Shall we go break it up?’

‘Let’s do that.’ The smile she proffered didn’t reach her eyes, and her heart hammered a little in her chest as she drew close.

Nina’s tapered red-lacquered nails rested on Carlo’s forearm, and Aysha watched those nails conduct a gentle caressing movement back and forth over a small area of his tailored jacket.

Nina’s make-up was superb, her mouth a perfect glossy red bow.

‘Want me to charm her?’ Bruno murmured, and Aysha responded equally quietly.

‘Thanks, but I can fight my own battles.’

‘Take care, cara. You’re dealing with a dangerous cat.’ He paused as they reached Carlo’s side. ‘Your most precious possession,’ Bruno said lightly, and inclined his head with deliberate mockery, ‘Nina.’ Then he smiled, and moved through the crowd.

Wise man, Aysha accorded silently, wishing she could do the same.

‘Darling, do get me a drink. You know what I like.’

Aysha began a mental countdown the moment Carlo left to find a waitress.

‘I imagine you’ve checked the photographs?’ Nina raised one eyebrow and raked Aysha’s slender frame. ‘Caused a little grief, did they?’