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She had known, had felt driven and compelled to get work on this rancho, because she’d had nothing else, but she’d had no idea it might lead to this level of salvation. That it could well and truly solve all her problems.
“Then you have yourself a deal.” He reached out, taking hold of her hand and shaking it hard, the strength and heat in his grip making something tremble deep inside her. But she ignored it.
She wanted the ranch. She wanted her freedom. Wanted something more than facing a life of potential homelessness should the whims of someone else dictate it.
“Perfect,” he said. “Tomorrow I shall call my grandfather and explain there has been a change of bride. And then... We shall work at making you suitable.”
Matías was still feeling the sharp, hot effects of rage as he picked up the phone the next morning to call his abuelo.
Liliana had been perfect. And now he was to be tasked with turning this...this urchin into a silk purse. Something he doubted was even possible. She was... He imagined in some ways she could be lovely. At least, he was hoping so.
But she was not Liliana. She would never be. Also, there would have to be a way to take the story and turn it into something that didn’t sound salacious. That he had fallen for a woman dressed as a stable hand on his property during the course of his engagement to the lovely heiress would be a difficult one to spin, though not impossible.
Particularly given Liliana’s defection.
The fact that she was now with Diego made that part easier, at least. In no way would he come out of it looking the cad. Not when she had been seduced away from him.
“Hola, Matías,” came his grandfather’s rough, cultured voice over the other end of the line. The man sounded yet more ancient with each passing day, and still, he spoke with an air of authority that made Matías grind his teeth.
The old man was a puppet master. Not overtly cruel in the ways his father had been, but he had been the creator of Matías’s father, after all, and it was clear to see how a lifetime of those machinations had dulled Matías’s father’s senses to right and wrong. To any sense of human kindness.
The Navarro family had a legacy that seemed to be born of spite and nourished by blood. Matías wanted no part of it.
But his grandfather didn’t want the rancho. And he didn’t want to maintain control of his company.
“Hola,” Matías responded. “I assume by now Diego has been in touch with you to inform you that he has taken a bride.”
The old man chuckled. “Indeed. He has. Though I think in his case he has literally taken a bride. Your bride.”
“Yes. However, it was convenient for me in many ways, as I did not have to shatter Liliana’s heart,” Matías said, each word decisive.
“Really, Matías,” his grandfather said.
“Really. I have met someone else. Don’t you see? I was trapped because I needed to honor my commitment to Liliana,” he said, knowing he was spitting out a tale that gratified his grandfather’s sense of what roles he and Diego played in their lives. Good and evil.
There was never a question as to how far Diego would go, because he lacked scruples, and it was well-known. But he knew that his grandfather would be incredibly amused to see how the scrupulous grandson dealt with this.
“Is that so?” his grandfather asked. “That seems a bit convenient.”
“I suppose it is. But then things in life so seldom are, so it is nice when it all falls into place. There has been a girl working for me, taking care of the horses, and I found myself quite compelled by her skills with them. I find I had quite fallen for her before I realized what was happening. I never violated my commitment to Liliana, because of course I would never break my word. But things are clearly changed, and now Camilla Alvarez is going to become my wife. You may have heard of the Alvarez family. I know you knew Cesar Alvarez, from back in the days when you dealt in horses. From when you worked at the rancho.”
His grandfather chuckled. “Yes. Cesar. Didn’t he recently die?”
“Quite so. And I ended up taking in quite a few animals from his rancho. And that is how I met Camilla.”
“A fascinating story. One I’m not entirely certain I believe.”
“I do not require your belief. I simply wished to inform you that I am marrying Camilla within the time frame you have dictated. She will be the perfect wife for me. She will run the rancho with a great deal of skill, and with passion. She loves the horses.”
“And you?” he asked. “Does she love you?”
“Perhaps not as much,” he responded.
That made his grandfather laugh. “I do appreciate your honesty, Matías, as you are the only one of us who seems to feel bound by it at any given time. It is endlessly amusing.”
“I do live to be a punchline, Grandfather. I’m glad that my engagement can provide you with some levity.”
“You will have ample opportunity to present her to the world as your bride next week at the charity ball in Barcelona, will you not?”
“I suppose I will,” Matías said, grinding his teeth together.
“Excellent. You know, because of my health I will not be able to attend, but I will look for the photographs in the paper.”
“I should expect nothing less from you, Abuelo.”
“I should hope not.”
And with that, they ended the call. Matías felt a sense of triumph, in many ways, as he was certainly transcending the roadblocks that had been set out before him. He was not going to allow Diego to win. But at the same time, there was an element of manipulation he was having to capitulate to, and that, he would never find acceptable.
But he had work to do. A stylist to hire, a ring to procure, and he was not going to linger on anything unpleasant in view of that. There was far too much to be done.
And he would do what he always did. He would see it done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN CAMILLA WOKE UP, she was immediately yanked out of bed and into some kind of alternative reality.
She was sent straight into a lavish bedroom much different than the one she had been staying in when she had been Cam, the stable boy. This one was sumptuous, frilly and quite a bit more feminine than the one she had existed in back at home. It didn’t take long for her to realize that she had been installed in Liliana’s old room.
That she was being used as a direct replacement, even down to being sent to the same lacy surroundings full of flowing curtains and billowing canopies.
If the housekeeper found it strange that she was making this transition, she didn’t say anything. If she found it strange when a rack filled with clothing was brought in, and a basket of lush toiletries was provided, she said nothing to that, either.
“You are to bathe,” the woman said, her tone brisk. “Use the bath salts, and all of the scented washes. And then there is an appointment with a stylist later.”
“Oh,” Camilla said, feeling slightly dizzy. Reeling over how quickly things were changing.
“You want to know why I’m not surprised,” the woman said. “It is because I knew the moment that I first saw you, that you were not a boy.”
“But Matías...”
“If he truly did not see,” the housekeeper said, “it is because he rarely pauses to look around him, not at the things he considers beneath his notice. It is why he hires people, you see. To deal with matters he finds unimportant.”
“I see,” she said.
“I’m not sure you do,” she responded. “But I think you will.”
After the other woman left, Camilla padded into the bathroom and took stock of all the finery there. The body washes, salts, soaps and scrubs. She opened the tops and smelled a few, setting aside some in lavender and some scented like warm brown sugar and honey.
Camilla stripped her clothes off slowly, relishing the lack of binding on her breasts. Enjoying the thought that she wouldn’t be binding them again today, or ever.
The tub itself was pale blue with gold claw feet, deep enough to submerge in, she thought. She turned on the golden tap and poured some bath salts beneath the churning water, scent blooming upward, wrapping itself around her.
Then when it was full, she stepped inside. She sighed. She could be free to linger in the warmth, to sink in to the bottom of her chin and lie back, letting the lavender-scented water carry her to another moment in time altogether.
Letting it take the weight from her shoulders, if only for a moment. The months of grief and stress, the heavy cloak of sadness.
When she went back to reality she would have to face the fact her father was still gone. But at least her own fate was secure.
At least there was that.
When she finally got out, she wrapped herself in the softest towel she had ever felt in her life and padded out into the bedroom where there was silk underwear laid across the bed and a simple summer dress. She felt so strange putting them on. Stranger still, when she looked in the mirror and saw that billowing fabric resting gently over her curves.
She felt... Well, even there in the isolation of her bedroom she felt hideously self-conscious.
If Matías imagined that she was going to have some great transformation where she became even half the beauty that Liliana was with a little bit of polish and a pretty dress, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
Her hair was still short, and her face was still...well, her face.
Angles and hard lines much more suited to a man than a young woman, and no hair to disguise or soften it.
She didn’t have time to ruminate on this, however, because shortly after, breakfast was brought to her room.
Coffee and homemade jam on fresh bread. Huevos rancheros and bacon.
Now, that made her feel spoiled beyond anything. She had been existing on much more meager offerings and it was wonderful to fill herself completely.
As soon as she had finished the last sip of her coffee, her room was invaded again by three different women all talking at once. There was much clucking over her hair, and discussion about color palettes and various other things.
One of the women took out a pair of scissors and Camilla was appalled when she approached her and began to run her fingers through her hair.
“There’s not enough hair left to cut off!” Camilla protested.
“Trust me,” the woman said, “you will want me to smooth out this hatchet job, and once I do it will look like there’s more there.”
She began snipping, shaping what remained of Camilla’s dark hair. She left the top slightly longer, clipping the sides and the back shorter, and teasing it a little bit so that it looked much more like an artful, purposeful pixie cut then exactly what it was—exactly what the stylist had called it—a hatchet job. Something that Camilla had done to herself in a panicked rush with a pair of dull scissors.
Then the second woman began to get out various pots of makeup. An array of different colors that reminded Camilla of summer, sunsets and somehow, of candy.
Warm tones, golds and oranges were swept over her eyelids, her cheekbones, the hollows of her face, adding a sculpted look to her that she hadn’t known was possible to achieve. By the time her eyes had been lined and mascara added to her lashes, she felt that even her mother would be hard-pressed to say she had a masculine appearance.
It was strong, certainly, quite a bit more angular, perhaps, than many women would consider ideal. But she was shocked to discover that she found the woman looking back at her in the mirror to be beautiful.
“The short hair is quite nice on you,” the hairstylist said.
Camilla nodded, looking at herself, leaning in to try to get a better idea of everything. She was shocked.
“I didn’t know I could look like this.”
“It’s all about finding what works for you,” the woman said.
“I just... I was always told I wasn’t...”
“What?” the makeup artist asked.
“I was told I wasn’t beautiful,” she responded. “Too dark. Not petite enough. In my figure...”
“Your skin is such a beautiful golden brown,” the makeup artist said. “And you can wear gold tones that would make a paler woman look sallow. You have a strong beauty. Which means it will not always agree with everyone around you, but those who appreciate it will never find another woman to match you.”
“And as for your figure,” the woman who had done nothing yet, and therefore Camilla assumed was the stylist, “it is the kind many would envy. We simply need to find the right dress to show it off.”
“But why do I need a dress?” She knew that she would need a wedding gown, and the very idea of that made her stomach turn over.
“Because,” the woman said. “You have a ball to attend.”
By dinner that night Matías was in a foul mood. He had not seen Camilla at all, and in many ways he supposed that was for the best. They were going to dine together tonight, but she was late. He didn’t like tardiness. Not in the least.
He tapped his fingers on the table, still marveling at the changes that had occurred in his life in the past twenty-four hours. What had begun with a stable boy getting kicked in the head by a horse had ended with a kidnap, a shocking revelation and a marriage proposal.
Or more a marriage demand, he supposed.
But in the end, the semantics of it didn’t matter. Not really.
The door to the dining room opened and he looked up and was utterly stunned by what he saw. The woman walking in wearing a bright orange dress, her short, dark hair styled neatly, with the gold band around her head like a halo, looked like no one he had ever met before. And yet, at the same time, he recognized her.
There was no question that Cam was indeed a woman.
Her curves were slight, her body toned and athletic, but most definitely female. Her breasts were small and high, her waist slim, her hips sturdy, which was an odd descriptor, perhaps, but not a negative one.
It made a man want to test that strength. She was like a warrior goddess. All gold, bronze and a kind of glowing beauty that seemed nearly supernatural.
He curled his fingers into a fist and tried to gather his thoughts. She was a tool to be used to spite his grandfather, to thwart Diego. She was correct. If he wanted a woman for sex, he could easily acquire one. There were ways to go about keeping things discreet. He did consider himself a man of integrity, a man who would honor commitments once they were made. But so long as Camilla knew about the other women, as long as they were clear about the general state of their marriage, he saw no real issue with taking lovers. It was, indeed, a business transaction, sealed with a handshake as she had suggested. Then it shouldn’t matter.
“Hello,” she said, her shoulders slightly stiff, her expression difficult to read.
“So this is who you really are?” he asked.
“No,” she said, making her way down the side of the table, her fingertips brushing against the glossy surface as she did so delicate. If he had ever truly looked at those hands he would have known immediately that she was all woman. “This is a very polished version of me. Though it is the one you will see for the duration of this ruse, I have no doubt, so long as I have that team readily available when needed. I cannot accomplish this on my own.”
“Can you not? You are an heiress. I was under the impression that women like you learned these things from the womb. Isn’t your mother a great socialite and beauty?”
“I am the heiress of nothing but debts, as I’m sure you’re well aware. Meanwhile, my mother had little interest in a daughter, whether or not it was to raise her, or to teach her to use eyeliner. I was raised by my father.”
She took a seat with two chair spaces between them. “I spent my life with horses. My father let me run wild, I think because he felt bad for the way my mother treated me. For her disinterest in me. Or perhaps, it was simply because he was lonely, as she was equally disinterested in him. Whatever the reason, it meant that I had a rather unconventional upbringing, as they go.”
“He must have instilled a certain amount of boldness in you.”
“Cesar Alvarez was nothing if not bold. A man who continued to run his empire as though he possessed millions when he was, in fact, in debt, that amount could be expected to be nothing less, I suppose.”
