The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin

‘Yes, he is.’ Fleur was relieved that, in contrast to the shameful sexual heat that made her skin prickle, her voice, when she regained the power of speech, was cool and composed. ‘Come here, Sandy,’ she said, clicking her fingers. ‘Good boy,’ she added coaxingly.

The dog looked at her, wagged his tail on the ground, and then went back to acting like some sort of savage beast interspersing his malevolent growls with the occasional loud, excited yap.

‘Good boy…?’ Antonio rolled his eyes skyward and wondered irritably, ‘Why do people have animals they cannot control?’

One thing was certain—when he was back in a relationship again it wouldn’t be with anyone who bore any resemblance to this petite blonde. No, not his type at all, and as for that wide-eyed innocent quality—did grown men really fall for that?

Fleur’s chin went up. ‘Was that question directed at me?’ she asked him frostily.

‘He is your animal, I take it?’

‘Don’t raise your voice—you’ll only scare him more.’

His dark brows lifted at the sharp note of censure in her voice. Actually, it was quite an attractive voice, even when its owner was being shrewish—soft, rather deep and with an unusual sexy huskiness. It wasn’t a voice that belonged to a teenager, and neither did her manner, so possibly he had misjudged her age, but then it was a long time since he had seen a woman without make-up. It probably didn’t hurt that she had been blessed with flawless skin and naturally dark lashes. He caught himself wondering if her hair colour was real.

You’re not going to find out, Antonio, he reminded himself.

‘He does not look very scared to me,’ he observed in a sardonic drawl.

Fleur, who had crouched down to entice Sandy back, slung him a tight-lipped look through the spiky fringe of dark lashes. His lashes, she noticed, were not straight but jet-black, thick and curled and ridiculously long. She found herself wondering resentfully why long lashes in a male face were so utterly irresistible?

‘You obviously know nothing about animals.’

Did she know that he had a direct view of her cleavage? That he could see the lacy edging on her bra?

‘And you obviously cannot read,’ he snapped, thinking irritably that all work might well make for a dull boy, but in his case it made for an easily distracted one. The time he was spending looking down this woman’s blouse was time that would be better spent looking for his errant daughter.

She lifted her head and he saw for the first time that her eyes were amber. He saw her realise where he was staring and flush to the roots of her hair. He hadn’t been around a woman who blushed that way in a long time, if ever.

‘You do know you’re trespassing, I suppose?’

‘Maybe your dogs can read…’ Her eyes flashed angrily as she fastened another button on her shirt and gave an angry sniff.

‘My dogs can respond to a command.’ Pity the same couldn’t be said for his libido, which, in the space of thirty seconds, had spiralled out of control.

Does that go for his women too? she wondered scornfully. He looked the type, she decided, studying his arrogant profile with a contemptuous little smile.

‘Why on earth did you let him off his lead?’

Good question, and one she had been asking herself ever since he had taken off after a rabbit.

Fleur got to her feet, rubbing a weary hand across her face. ‘Look, let’s start again, shall we?’

‘Again? You enjoyed it that much, querida?’

She was already scowling in response to his mocking tone; when he threw in the casual endearment her expression did a freeze-frame on tight-lipped disapproval. She could feel something unraveling—she just hoped it was her temper!

‘I am sorry about the trespassing. It wasn’t intentional and it won’t happen again.’

‘We’ve had a lot of trouble with poachers.’

Fleur looked at him in exasperation. ‘Do I look like a poacher?’ she demanded, stabbing her chest with a finger.

She actually looked soft, warm.

‘I try not to stereotype; poachers come in all shapes and sizes.’ So, he realised, did temptation, but then variety added a little spice to life.

Antonio was not into indiscriminate sex and he hadn’t been in a position where he was forced to fight against an urge to kiss a total stranger for some time. Especially as her fleabitten excuse for a dog had decided yet again to grab his jeans by the teeth. His resentment at finding himself in this position directed itself at the cause of his discomfort.

‘I suppose you think that’s funny? Well, I…’ she stopped mid-rant and forced herself to smile. ‘If you’d just hand Sandy back we’ll be off your land…’

And not a moment too soon. With all that in-your-face, rampant maleness, he really was not a comfortable man to be around. For some women she could see how that could become a real problem, but fortunately one thing she had never had a problem with was her sexual appetite. Romance was her weakness, and she had realised a long time ago that she wasn’t particularly highly sexed. And she obviously didn’t give off the sort of vibes that sent men wild with lust.

‘Nothing would give me more pleasure,’ he revealed truthfully. He looked at the hand extended to him, it was small, the nails unvarnished and cut short. From nowhere the idea of lifting it to his lips planted itself in his head. ‘But I don’t have any particular wish to lose any part of my anatomy.’

Actually it was his sanity that Antonio was more concerned about at that moment. Every time he looked at this woman’s mouth he felt his much-vaunted self-control slip another notch.

Reminding himself that she wasn’t his type worked about as well as it had the first time.

‘So I’ll let you remove…’ The tremor that rippled through her body as he took her hand in his was visible.

Antonio stopped speaking and watched her eyes slowly lift to his. There was a shocked trance-like quality to her stare. Then as the colour ran up under her fair skin she made a tiny choking sound in her throat and snatched her hand away. She held it tight against her heaving bosom while her wide eyes stayed on his face.

He was accustomed to women looking at him, but not as though he were the embodiment of their nightmares

Fleur took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. She was utterly mortified. It would have been nice to believe that he hadn’t picked up on the fact she had been virtually nailed to the spot by lustful longing. It would have been even nicer to pretend it hadn’t happened at all!

Nicer, but difficult when the heat his touch had ignited still lay curled deep down in the pit of her stomach just waiting for the least excuse to burst into embarrassing flames.

Dear God, I only just stopped short of drooling! She was shaken from her reverie of self-loathing by his grunt of pain.

Antonio had momentarily forgotten about the dog, but the dog had not forgotten about him.

In reflex to the pain that shot up his leg as canine teeth broke skin Antonio straightened his knee. The jerky motion caused the dog to lose his grip. If the animal’s attack had been intended to protect its mistress’s virtue it had worked. The compelling urge to mesh his fingers in the blonde’s hair, pull her face up to his and kiss her senseless had passed.

Fleur let out a cry of shocked outrage as the dog picked himself up from the ground.

‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you pathetic bully?’ she cried, rushing to the cringing animal. ‘You’re such a big man, aren’t you?’ she sneered.

Antonio Rochas, his dark head tilted to one side, appeared to be listening, but not to her. To add insult to injury he raised an impatient hand and snapped tersely, ‘Silence!’

Fleur’s jaw dropped. Unbelievable!

She had come to the conclusion he was going to ignore her totally when his gaze narrowed, which had been focused on some point beyond her, suddenly zeroed in on her face.

His long jet lashes touched the crest of his cheekbones as his glance dropped, making Fleur belatedly aware of the gaping neckline of her shirt. The blatant sexual insolence sent a shard of anger through her and something that felt like a mild electric shock.

‘Who did you have in mind for me to pick on?’ His expressive lips quirked as his glance slid over her outraged figure. ‘You…?’