“You were asleep,” Kyra said, smiling up at him.
”Sí. In that case, you should have told Dolores.”
Her smile dimmed just a little. “Why?”
“Well, because—because…” Because I don’t know what I would do if you left me. Antonio frowned. “I was concerned.”
“About what? Nothing can happen to me here, Antonio.”
She was right, of course. What he was concerned about had nothing to do with reality and everything to do with love—but how could he tell her that?
“That is true,” he said stiffly, “but this is my island, and I am responsible for the welfare of everything and everyone on it.”
The smile left her face altogether. “I see,” she said. She drew back out of his arms and turned to the paddock again. “Perhaps I should sign in and out in the future.”
Antonio winced. Stupid, he told himself, stupid! Gently, he put his hands on her shoulders.
”Querida,” he said softly, “forgive me. It is just that—that I awakened and reached for you but you were not there. My bed suddenly was cold and lonely.”
His words reached into Kyra’s heart. She sighed, turned to him, and laid her hands against his chest.
“Let’s start over,” she said. “Good morning, Tonio.”
Antonio smiled back at her. “Good morning, querida.” He kissed her gently, then drew back, his arms still encircling her. “I have a plan.”
“A plan?” She laughed softly and leaned back in his arms. “That sounds serious.”
“Well, it is not serious but it is important.” He flashed her a quick grin. “As much as I would like to keep you at my mercy, with no papers and no clothes, I have decided it is wrong.” Antonio took her face in his hands. “I am going to take you to Caracas so you can pick up a new passport and visa.”
“And clothes.”
He laughed. “And clothes, sí.” His eyes met hers. “I am hoping that even with all of those things in your hands, you will choose to stay here with me.”
For how long? she thought, but she only nodded.
“You know I will.”
Antonio’s heart swelled. His head was full of words, but his tongue wouldn’t form them. There was time. There was lots of time.
“So then,” he said, “it is settled, yes?”
“Yes. And I’m glad you mentioned going to Caracas. I was going to ask you about it. I mean, I’ve thought of so many things that I need to take care of—”
Antonio kissed her lightly on the mouth.
“It is too early in the day for a beautiful woman to waste time thinking.”
It was a gallant compliment, flowery and Latin. Still, it made her smile tilt just a little.
“I’m serious, Antonio.”
“So am I. Truly, there is nothing for you to worry your beautiful head over. I have thought of everything.”
She laughed. “Such modesty! What do you mean, you’ve thought of everything?”
“Well, as I said, though I love the way you look, dressed in my things, querida, I know you long for clothes of your own.”
“Oh yes, I do. I’m going to telephone my bank and-”
“There is no need. I will take you shopping. Whatever you buy will be charged to my account.”
“That’s very generous, Antonio, but I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Nonsense.” Antonio waved his hand in the air in that imperious gesture that had almost driven her crazy a couple of days ago. “That is how it will be. There is nothing to discuss.”
“You’re wrong.” Kyra cleared her throat. “I think—I think there are lots of things to discuss. I appreciate what you’re doing, but—”
“Sweetheart, if you wish, we can talk in the plane.”
Antonio looped his arm around her waist. “And I told your embassy to have your papers ready promptly at noon, and—”
“My embassy? You mean, you got in touch with them?”
“Of course.”
“Yes, but—but I’m the one who lost the passport and visa—”
“And I am the one who will see to it that they are replaced.” He hugged her and smiled. “You see, querida? There is no need for you to lift a finger. I will do it all.”
“You should have asked me first, Antonio.”
“Asked you what? These things had to be done, yes?”
“That isn’t the point. I’m perfectly capable of—”
”Mia querida, is it so terrible that I wish to take care of you?”
She stared at him for a moment, and then she gave a deep sigh.
“No, of course not. But—but…” She hesitated, trying to find the right way to phrase what she needed to tell him. “The thing is, I’ve always had someone taking care of me, Antonio. I mean, everyone in my family’s always been-”
“Protective. Yes. So you said.” He smiled. “It pleases me to know that you had such love all your life. It is very Latin.”
A cold hand seemed to close around Kyra’s heart. “It may be Latin,” she said carefully, “but my father…”
Kyra broke off and stared at him. But what? But thinking for someone else, protecting them from real life, making them live their lives as an extension of yours, wasn’t love.
How could she tell him that, when she knew there had never been anyone to care for him, that he had probably seen all too much of real life? It would be like explaining the way new shoes might pinch your feet to a man with no shoes at all.
“Tonio,” she said, “please try to understand. I do appreciate your concern for me. But you and I—”
“Sí.” Antonio looked into Kyra’s beautiful eyes, and his heart turned over. Why had he thought he could wait to tell her that he loved her? The knowledge lit his soul like a flame. He wanted to tell her he adored her, to ask her to marry him, to know the joy of seeing her smile and say yes. ”Sí,” he said again, and he took a deep breath. “You and I, Kyra. That is what I wish to talk to you about.”
Kyra’s heart stood still. “You?” she said, her eyes searching his. “You—and I?”
“Yes.” Yes? Was that all he could manage to croak out? Dios, what was wrong with him? He was a fool, stumbling for words. And it wasn’t necessary. She loved him; he knew that she did. He cleared his throat. “I realize we have only known each other for a few days,” he said, “and that—that our backgrounds are very different.”
“Yes,” Kyra said quickly. She put her palms flat against his chest and felt his heart galloping beneath her fingers. “Yes, they are. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s so complicated, Antonio, but—but I’ll try to make you understand. You see, my brothers were so much older. They became very protective of me.”
“Of course. I have no difficulty understanding that. What man would not feel protective of you, querida?”
“And my father…how can I explain? He had certain expectations for me—”
Antonio stiffened. “Expectations?”
“Yes. He had my life planned. He was determined that I only do certain things, know certain kinds of people—”
”Sí. I am sure he did.”
“I had to live up to those expectations, Antonio. It wasn’t a matter of choice.” Kyra shook her head. “It’s like a—a family requirement, you know? A set of commands that are never spoken, that you grow up knowing have to be obeyed for the rest of your life.”
“I tell you again, I understand all of this, Kyra.” He smiled, but it was not a smile that reached his eyes. “You may have grown up with privilege and I without, but that does not mean I do not believe in expectations and rules, as well.”
“That’s just the point! You seem to think I’d want to go from one set of rules to another.”
Antonio folded his arms over his chest. “The principles that govern my life are not so different from yours. I would expect you to accept them.”
Dammit, why was he being so impossible? Before her eyes, he was turning back into the cold, unyielding tyrant he’d been before they became lov
ers. She was trying to make him understand that she would never march to the beat of anyone else’s drum again and he was arrogantly assuring her that she would if he were the drummer!
“Antonio,” she said with forced patience, “try looking at this from my viewpoint. I grew up in this—this enormous house—”
“Ah, sí.” He smiled coldly. “I have no difficulty imagining it, Kyra. A big house.”
“Yes. A mansion.”
“Filled with all the trappings of power and money.”
“Exactly.” She waved her hand toward his beautiful, warm home. “It was nothing like this place, Antonio, nothing at all like it.”