‘You won’t see him.’ That assurance was the only reason she was here—that and Ramon’s promise of a ride on a pure-bred Arab, which she had been unable to resist. Though she’d managed to do so until Ramon, correctly interpreting her reluctance, had promised his brother would not be there. ‘So there’s no need to be nervous.’ Her pride stung, she had retorted hotly, ‘Your brother does not make me nervous. I simply find him …’ At a loss to explain even to herself the way the man made her feel, she finished lamely, ‘He won’t be there.’ ‘No chance,’ Ramon had promised, coaxing, ‘Come on, the least I can do is give you the ride I promised. You’ve fulfilled your side of the bargain and, yes, don’t worry,’ he soothed, predicting her interruption, ‘I know you don’t want to carry on with our plan … You are sure about that?’ ‘Quite sure.’ ‘Pity, I was having fun. Oh, well.’ Ramon gave a philosophical shrug. ‘It’s not all bad—you really got to Santiago.’ Not nearly as much as he got to me.
