Forbidden To Her Spanish Boss by Susan Stephens

CHAPTER NINE

HEDROVESLOWLYto the farmhouse with the heater turned up high. It felt good to cross swords with Rose again, good to have her close. He hadn’t forgotten anything, not the way she felt in his arms, or how generous she was in bed, in life, in everything. Or how she’d annoyed the hell out of him by leaving the Pegasus so abruptly.

Things were moving faster than expected on the acquisition front, and, from the tense way she was holding herself, he guessed Rose had already spoken to her brother. It wasn’t just the shock of a soaking making that chin jut out or those emerald eyes blaze like jewels. He had wanted to be the one to tell Rose of his plans for the village, but only when everything was settled. Raising her hopes would be cruel. He’d hoped his plans for Declan would reassure her. No one knew the land, or how to care for it, better than Declan Kelly. He’d moved fast to secure her brother’s services.

He glanced across at Rose, sitting bolt upright in her seat. He’d do anything to persuade her not to sacrifice her life for a duty that no longer existed. Rose’s father was going to receive the best possible care, and her brothers could take care of themselves.

Drawing to a halt outside the front door of the farmhouse, he jumped down to help her out. She didn’t wait for that, and pushed past him to the front door. He lingered behind for a moment to give her a chance to compose herself before following her inside.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked, peeling off his jacket. He glanced at the drying rack in front of the hearth.

‘Be my guest,’ she told him in a clipped tone.

‘Shall we sit down?’ he suggested.

‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Tea?’

‘Coffee, if you still have some.’

‘Tea it is, then.’

Lifting her chin as she went about her business, Rose reminded him why he was determined to keep this strong, dependable, amusing, quirky and impossible woman in his life.

‘What are you doing here, Raffa?’ she asked him bluntly as she placed a mug of tea in front of him, so strong he was sure the spoon could stand up in it. ‘What are you really doing here?’

‘I’m here on business. If you want to take a shower,’ he added with a relaxed gesture towards the staircase, ‘go right ahead. You must be uncomfortable soaked in mud, and I’m happy to wait.’ The tip of her nose was red, and her cheeks were whipped scarlet by the wind. She had never looked lovelier to him.

Ignoring his suggestion, she launched straight in. ‘Buying the pub, and then the Old Hall. Is the farm next?’

I thought I could trust you, but now I know I can’t.

That was what blazed from her angry expression.

‘I haven’t done anything underhand, Rose. The Old Hall was for sale, and it’s perfect for our needs.’

‘Our needs?’ she queried suspiciously.

‘I didn’t want to raise your hopes until everything was in place.’

‘Raise my hopes about what?’ she demanded, frowning.

‘I believe, as does Sofia, that the Old Hall would be perfect for one of my sister’s retreats.’

Rose looked shocked. ‘A retreat in Ireland?’

‘Why not? Extra accommodation at the inn for patients attending for assessment, or for staff coming here for interview. I’d say the set-up is perfect,’ he confirmed.

Rose’s expression was utterly transformed. ‘Are you serious?’ she asked, as if hardly daring to hope.

‘Yes.’ He sounded calm, but inwardly he was in turmoil. Nothing mattered more to him than Rose. The thought of not seeing her again was unacceptable to him. Somewhere along the way, between the humour they’d shared and the verbal battles they’d indulged in, as well as their night of passion, a change had happened, but she wasn’t ready to hear that yet, any more than he was ready to say the words she wanted to hear. ‘I need a head groom,’ he said instead. ‘You need a solution for your father.’

‘You’d build a retreat in Ireland to get me back to Spain?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted with a one-shouldered shrug.

‘So, I’m another of your charities.’ She bristled. ‘I don’t mean to be ungrateful, Raffa, but I know how you love a good cause.’

‘Your father won’t be the only one to benefit from it, Rose.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Mashing her lips together, she turned her head to avoid his gaze. ‘I shouldn’t get so het up. It’s just that I don’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t say anything—except, “I’m coming back to Spain.”’

‘Is this leading to an offer for the farm?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Declan does have an interest in selling the farm,’ he admitted.

‘So, it’s all been decided without any input from me?’

‘No. Of course it hasn’t. You and your brothers would all have to agree to sell.’

‘How many have you talked into the deal so far?’

‘There’s just you to persuade now,’ he admitted.

‘So, I’m the last to hear.’

‘You’ve been through so much—’

‘Don’t—don’t do that!’ She held up her hand as if warding him off. ‘Don’t say you’re protecting me. I’m not the baby sister. Treat me as I deserve to be treated, with the same respect you show my brothers.’

‘That has always been my intention, which is why I’m here to talk about it in person.’

‘If you approach it the right way, selling the farm could be an answer to our problems,’ she conceded. ‘It’s not what I want, but I have to be pragmatic. My father needs money spending on his care, and the farm could provide that.’ Lifting her chin, she stared him in the eyes. Beneath the bravado, he saw a young woman struggling to hold everything and everyone together. Crushed beneath the weight of perceived duty, Rose had yet to come to terms with the fact that she was no longer needed by her brothers as she had been in the past.

‘Whatever happens in the future, the Kelly name will remain above the farm,’ he pledged.

‘With the Acosta brand on every horse, man and drystone wall?’ Rose suggested as the enormity of the sale of her family’s farm overwhelmed her.

‘Don’t think of me as a wrecking ball. These purchases are the fastest way to help you and your brothers, as well as your father, and others like him. All I ask is that you see the broader picture and take your feelings for me out of it.’

But she couldn’t. Some sort of dam had burst inside her, and a wall of pure emotion hit him square in the chest as Rose sprang up and shoved her chair back so hard it crashed to the floor. He’d never seen her like this before, hands shaking, face drawn. Trapped between a past she couldn’t change and a future she couldn’t see her way clear to reaching, Rose was as close to a breaking point as anyone could be. He stood in the same instant, ready to catch, soothe or deflect blows, if that was what it came to.

‘You don’t have to do everything on your own, Rose. Accept help when it’s offered. You have no difficulty accepting help for your father. Why can’t you accept help from me?’

‘Because my father’s situation at the bakery is temporary until he starts treatment, while your suggestion means permanent change.’

‘Is that such a bad thing?’

‘It narrows down my options, and my brothers’ options too.’

‘What if I told you that I’ve asked Declan to manage the farm?’

Rose’s lips turned white. ‘So, it is all decided. I was going to ask you who would pay for Declan to come home, but there’s no need for that, is there? Because you’ve already arranged it. You’re like the hub of a wheel, directing us all around you—how fast we move, where we go, and when.’

‘No. That’s not what I’m doing. Forgive me, Rose, but I thought you wanted to work on my ranch. Clearly, I was wrong.’

‘I did—I do.’

Rose clutched her head as if that were the way to shake an answer into it. He longed to take her in his arms, to offer her comfort, but he knew that would only make things worse. ‘Go take your shower,’ he said instead. ‘Don’t rush. I’ll still be here when you come down.’

It took Rose a good minute to regain her composure, then, firming her jaw, she nodded in agreement. She was on her way across the room to the staircase, leading to what he guessed would be spotlessly clean but basic facilities, when she caught her foot on the edge of a rug. Launching himself across the kitchen, he snatched her into his arms before she hit the ground. Steadying her on her feet, he gave her a chance to recover from the shock.

‘Thank you.’

Her voice was shaking, and he flinched inwardly to see Rose so utterly at a loss. ‘There’s no need to thank me. I’m here for you.’

‘Are you?’

She searched his eyes in a way that took hold of his stone-cold heart and fired it into life. Feelings they had both fought so hard to subdue suddenly overwhelmed them, and they crashed together with longing and urgency. But this was Rose. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she pulled back.

Raking her hair away from her flushed face, she said calmly, ‘Welcome to Ireland, Raffa. I hope you find everything you’re looking for here.’

‘I have,’ he gritted out.

Cupping her face, he drove his mouth down on hers. When he pulled back, the look that blazed between them had nothing to do with employer and employee—or whether or not he was interested in buying property in Ireland. It was primal and deep, and easily eclipsed his desire to plant a stake in Rose’s beautiful homeland. ‘You taste of mud,’ he commented wryly when they paused for breath.

‘And you taste of everything I should avoid,’ Rose fired back.

‘You don’t want to avoid me, or why are you here?’

‘Because this is my home?’

But Raffa was right. This might be the most misguided thing she’d ever done, but who was going to stop them? Life was measured in moments, some good, some bad, and Rose had learned to grab the good ones and hold on tight. Practical problems could wait. She didn’t want tender or teasing. She wanted hot, hard and now, the type of sex that blotted out everything in an explosion of furious passion.

Bodies collided as they cleaved to each other again. Hooking one leg around hers, Raffa thrust her back on top of the kitchen table. Moving between her legs, he undressed her with his usual efficiency. Unfastening his zipper, he used one arm to pillow her head, while his black eyes blazed a promise into hers. That promise of forgetfulness and oblivion was enough for Rose to cry out and claim it right away. Swept into a vortex of pleasure, she rejoiced to be lost. This was appetite pure and simple.

Consumed by arousal, the decision had moved out of their hands. Rose’s senses took the lead, while Raffa’s experience proved the route map. Even when she begged him for release, he knew how big he was and how carefully he must proceed. That wouldn’t do for Rose, not when her heart, soul and body were so utterly his. Grabbing his biceps, she groaned her approval in response to the silky pass of something warm and smooth between her legs. Closing her eyes to concentrate on sensation, she exhaled on a shaking breath when he made a second pass, allowing the tip to catch inside her.

‘Again?’ he suggested.

‘And again,’ she agreed, plunging into an abyss of pleasure that left her gasping for breath as he finally took her to the hilt.

One powerful release could never be enough—not when every inch of Rose was tuned to Raffa’s frequency. ‘Yes!’ she breathed out again, moving fiercely with him.

Sweeping everything off the kitchen table, he lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist so he could move more freely, and with even greater force. The vibrations rocked the table halfway across the room, while Rose exclaimed rhythmically with pleasure each time he dealt her a firm, effective stroke. Even the sounds they made were arousing, as was the sight of Raffa staring down at her, clearly enjoying himself. ‘Don’t stop!’ she warned. ‘Don’t—’ He didn’t give her a chance to finish before upping the tempo, which drove her straight over the edge.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked as she dragged in some noisy breaths. Cupping her chin, he stared into her eyes. ‘Rose... I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

‘Hurt me?’ His question touched her. Reaching up, she rasped the palm of her hand against his stubble-roughened cheek. ‘Of course you didn’t hurt me. That was...amazing.’

‘Watch the flattery,’ he warned with a smile.

She loved the look between them that said they understood each other again. The problems hadn’t gone away, but nothing could get in the way of these precious moments.

‘Your face is smeared with mud,’ she observed, smiling into his eyes.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment, as yours is too. Is it time for that shower now?’

‘Could be,’ Rose agreed, grinning as Raffa swung her into his arms. ‘It won’t be the type of facility you’re used to,’ she warned as he jogged up the stairs.

‘Running water’s all we need.’

Apart from each other, she thought.

Shouldering the door to the bathroom, he turned on the shower. Only now did Rose remember she’d forgotten to flip the switch to heat up the water. ‘We’re going to freeze,’ she warned as Raffa stripped off his clothes.

‘Not a chance.’ Lifting her into the small cubicle, he secured her arms above her head, nudged his way between her thighs and proved he was right.

If everything could be solved by sex, they’d have the answers to all the world’s problems, Rose reflected the next morning. If she had the answer to the doubts etched on her heart by the past, she’d make nothing of the fact that Raffa had already left, leaving his side of the bed cold. Picking up the note he’d left on the pillow, she hardly dared read it. Man up! He was hardly the type to sneak off in the night.

As she had?

Rose growled with impatience, hoping that wouldn’t be something else to plague her for the rest of her life. She’d had her reasons. Raffa must have his.

She read the scrawled note.

Not tit for tat. Time to get back to business. R

What had she expected? A declaration of love?

Her body was still throbbing from the attentions of an extraordinary lover, but fabulous sex did not a relationship make. A future between billionaire polo player Raffa Acosta and Rose Kelly, penniless groom? How likely did that seem? Fairy tales didn’t happen in real life. And it was a bit too late to worry about getting in too deep where Raffa was concerned. She was already in over her head, with her heart and soul fully engaged. If there was some way to stop that, it remained a mystery to Rose.

Showered and dressed, she made her way down to the kitchen. Expecting the room to be cold, and the fire to be out, she was surprised to find logs blazing in the hearth, and a fresh pot of coffee on the table. And another note.

This is to help you break that tea habit. I can’t stand the stuff. R

Smiling and crying at the same time, she brought the note to her chest. She already missed his sense of humour and Raffa’s caring ways most of all, but she didn’t have a clue where he was, what he was up to or how long he’d be away.

Closing her fist around the note as a torrent of longing and uncertainty overwhelmed her, Rose knew, whatever Raffa was planning, her father had to take priority over her feelings.

Crossing to her mother’s desk, she selected a piece of writing paper and began to write. Then stopped. It took time to deliver a letter. Raffa could be halfway across the world. She’d send a text instead. Even that took an age. Could they ever resolve the gulf between them? Rose doubted it. She refused charity, while Raffa liked to handle the reins, not share them. She could only be sure of one thing as she placed a call to Sofia. Telling her heart to forget Raffa Acosta was a waste of time, when her heart remained set on having him.