She went pale. Anton sighed. ‘Would you have become this person if I’d stayed around and fought for what I wanted? No, you would not,’ he declared without expecting a reply. ‘You would not have let your father sell you to some no-good vengeful swine because you didn’t care what happened to you. You would have been mine! And, on being mine, you would have been pulled by your beautiful hair out of your shock and your grief and made to see that you did not need to be anything other than the beautiful person you are—to be loved by me! However, I walked,’ he breathed in contempt. ‘Which makes the accusation Ramirez made against me true. Because I do owe you—for not being man enough to stop still long enough to think why you needed to lash out at me. I owe you, querida, for six long miserable years of existing in a vacuum breaking your poor heart over me!’
She walked out. Anton stood there staring at the door she’d shut behind her. His hand went up to wipe the angry pallor from his face. He didn’t know why she had walked out, or what she was thinking. He didn’t even know if he’d just made the biggest mistake by telling her that he had his own guilt to feed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ORRACA found Cristina in her bedroom, staring out through the window.
‘Enrique Ramirez is the English gaucho’s papa. His mamma has just told me,’ she announced. ‘Enrique is the man who saved your life when I foolishly let go of your hand. He pulled that horse away from you at great risk to himself, never mind that swine Ordoniz. If Ramirez wants you to marry his son, then do it. You owe him that.’
‘Everyone seems to owe everyone something,’ Cristina murmured.
‘Sim,’ Orraca agreed. ‘But a debt only becomes a burden if you do not want to pay it. You want to pay the debt, child, but you are too surrounded here by bad ghosts that tell you to turn the debt into a burden. Get away from here, Cristina,’ the old woman advised. ‘Marry the son of Enrique Ramirez, spit in the eye of the bad spirits and see what life brings.’
‘Happiness?’ She turned a sad smile on this woman who had been in her life for as long as Cristina could recall.
‘If he is man enough to pull you free from this place, like his papa pulled that horse free, then he is man enough to give you happiness.’
Maybe Orraca was right. Maybe it was time to stop communing with ghosts—time to stop pulling against Luis.
‘His mama is waiting downstairs to take you to Sao Paulo,’ Orraca said. ‘Go with her, buy the prettiest wedding outfit you can find, and marry your English gaucho. If he turns out to be no good you can always come back here and be miserable again.’
Cristina laughed. She couldn’t help it at such sober advice. Orraca just shrugged and left the room again.
Fifteen minutes later, Cristina was sitting beside her future mother in law in a helicopter, flying to Sao Paulo.
Anton watched them go from one of the windows. She would not be coming back here before they married—though Cristina didn’t know that yet, he reminded himself. Nor would she be seeing him again until they stood in front of the registrar and made their vows—if his mother got Cristina that far, that was.
He turned away from the window, a wry smile playing with the corners of his mouth. His mother was the best gentle bully he knew, but could she handle Cristina if she took fright again and decided to make a run for it?
He had Santa Rosa covered as a place to escape to, because he was staying right here until the morning they married in Rio. And Gabriel Valentim no longer held a reliable bolt-hole because the man was too much the romantic. Gabriel was so convinced that Cristina belonged with Anton that he had agreed to be his best man. And even Rodrigo Valentim had been convinced that he had Cristina’s best interests at heart.
The lawyer had listened to everything Anton had said to him this morning in Sao Paulo, and carefully read the documents he’d placed in front of him which showed that if Cristina could not be happy in their marriage then Santa Rosa would always be here for her, safe and cared for by the trust he was setting up to protect it. Then he’d played his ace card and asked Rodrigo if he would give the bride away. Recalling the way the older man had filled up, Anton was prepared to trust that Rodrigo Valentim’s home would not be a safe bolt-hole for Cristina to use either.
If all of those people managed to get Cristina to stand in front of the registrar, then it only left him with the prospect of a full blown face-to-face rejection in front of everyone in the Blue Room at his hotel in Rio.
Could he handle that?
Yes, he could handle it. He could handle anything—because this time he was not going to let Cristina down. And on that final thought, he turned his attention to the next grim task in hand.
Going to sit down behind the desk of the late Lorenco Marques, Luis put his mind into a different gear, then picked up the phone.
Two minutes later a cool, smooth, quietly refined voice greeted him pleasantly. ‘Good afternoon, Senhor Scott-Lee. It is a pleasure to hear from you.’
‘It’s quite possible that you won’t be saying that in a few seconds, Senhor Estes,’ Anton replied. ‘I am calling you to formally withdraw any claim I have on Enrique Ramirez’s estate.’
There was a small silence. ‘May I enquire as to why you’ve made this decision?’
‘That’s personal.’
‘Your half-brothers—’
‘Will survive without knowing me.’
‘But will you survive without knowing them, senhor?’
The quick answer? Anton mused. ‘Yes.’ If he had to.
‘You do understand that by doing this your share of your father’s estate—’
‘Ramirez was not my father.’
‘A moot point we will leave to one side for now, if you will. As I was saying…You understand that your share in the estate will go to Cristina Marques?’
‘Since you’ve already handed over a chunk of it to her I think I’ve managed to get that, Senhor Estes,’ Anton drawled. ‘Was that ethical, by the way?’
‘Was it ethical that you brought your mistress with you to Rio?’ the lawyer returned.
Anton sat up straight. ‘Explain that,’ he commanded.
‘I think you prefer to call her your secretary,’ Senhor Estes said.
‘So the money went to Cristina as a slap on the wrist for me? Is that what you mean?’
‘Your—Enrique Ramirez expected you to mend your lusty ways not continue them.’
‘I don’t bed two women at the same time, Senhor Estes,’ Anton said coldly. ‘Unlike my—father, who seems to have bedded anything he happened to see in a skirt.’