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Emily didn’t want to walk. She wanted to go to Ramon. She wanted to check with her own eyes that he was all right. She wanted the explanation she was owed.
No sooner had they stepped onto the terrace than the arguing commenced outside the front of the villa. Raised male voices carried clearly on the still evening air and she heard Xavier, then Ramon, and his deep, familiar baritone made her heart clench in her chest. Vittorio wasn’t as loud—the mediator between his sons, she assumed. They spoke in rapid-fire Spanish, frustrating her attempts to understand. And then their voices grew muffled, suggesting they’d moved into the house and closeted themselves in a room.
Emily’s breath shuddered out, a deep sigh of despair. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’
Elena hugged Emily’s arm as they strolled. ‘I’m afraid things have been strained in our family for a long time. Ramon has struggled to move on from the past—from the mistakes he made as a boy—and he believes that, because he hasn’t done so, we haven’t either.’
Emily looked at her. ‘But you have?’
‘Of course. I love my son. I always have. I never stopped loving him—he simply stopped allowing himself to be loved.’
Why? Because he believed he didn’t deserve love? A deep ache spread through Emily’s chest.
Elena sat down on a cushioned rattan sofa and urged Emily to sit beside her. ‘Everything will be fine. You’ll see.’
Emily wished she shared the older woman’s optimism. ‘What did Xavier mean—when he said it was typical of Ramon to run off?’
Elena shook her head. ‘Pay no attention to what Xavier says. He is hard on people—himself included.’ She wrapped her hands around Emily’s. ‘Ramon is a good man. He will be a good father. Already I see changes in him I never would have imagined.’
Her heart missed a beat. ‘Really?’
Elena smiled. ‘Really.’ She squeezed Emily’s hands. ‘Sometimes all a man needs is the love of a good woman.’
Love.
Emily’s heart began to race.
Did she love Ramon?
These last few days, she had started to think she might, and the idea overwhelmed her with a wild, conflicting mix of wonder and fear.
‘I’ve only known you for twenty-four hours, Emily,’ Elena continued, ‘but I am a good judge of character. I believe you have a kind, forgiving soul. And I believe my son can learn from you.’ She cupped Emily’s cheek with her palm. ‘He fears responsibility, but not for the reasons you might think.’
‘Emily.’
Ramon’s voice stopped her breath in her lungs. In unison, she and Elena rose and turned.
Rumpled, dishevelled and still breathtakingly handsome in the khaki trousers and black tee shirt he’d worn throughout the day, he strode across the terrace.
He held his hand out to her and, after a brief hesitation, she slipped her hand into his.
His grip was firm as he turned to his mother, his demeanour stiff. ‘I apologise for my absence, Mamá.’
Elena reached up and kissed her son’s cheek. ‘Apology accepted. Now, go. Talk with Emily. You owe her an explanation.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KEEPING HER HAND firmly in his grip, Ramon led Emily into the gardens, along a lighted pathway and into a secluded alcove. Hedges and fragrant rose bushes provided privacy and, to one side, an ornate stone bench sat beneath a high, vine-covered arch.
His blood still beat furiously in his veins from his run-in with Xav.
His brother could be so sanctimonious. So self-righteous, at times.
He let go of Emily and she lifted her hand to his face.
‘Ramon...your jaw.’
He seized her wrist and pulled her hand down before she could touch him. ‘It’s just bruised.’
