Free The Shores of Spain by J. Kathleen Cheney Page B

hands. Marina held them still, hoping he hadn’t noticed she’d been rubbing them together. She often did that when her mind wandered. There was an enduring ache where she’d had the webbing between her fingers removed.
    Something has to be wrong. Why else would he have followed her here, to a place he’d never visited before? Why on a Monday morning when he should be at the police station and she wouldnormally have been at work? How did he even know where to find me? “What are you doing here?”
    “Duilio wrote to me,” he said, eyes still lowered. “He needs my help, an investigation. I don’t know how long this will take, but I could be gone some time.”
    Some time? Marina gripped her hands together. “Do you have to go?”
    “Yes,” he said softly.
    Marina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it fell. She was not going to cry. He hadn’t made her any promises. But she dreaded not seeing him for so long. “Is that all?”
    He shook his head then. “I need to tell you something . . .”
    Marina glanced up, startled by his hesitant tone. His eyes were shut, his lips pressed together, as if whatever he held in pained him.
    “There’s something you need to know about me. Something I haven’t told you.” He took a deep breath, and said, “I’m a bastard.”
    Marina sat down in the nearest chair, a large armchair in maroon velvet. What does that mean?
    “I’m actually the son of Alexandre Ferreira, not Joaquim Tavares,” he clarified.
    That made Duilio Ferreira his brother rather than his cousin. She could see that in Joaquim’s face. He and Duilio had the same long straight nose, the same square jaw and wide brows. She’d thought the resemblance between them remarkable for cousins. This is why Lady Ferreira wants him to move into the Ferreira house. He’s Alexandre Ferreira’s son and has as much right to share in the family’s fortune as Duilio.
    “Does Oriana’s husband know that?” she asked.
    “Yes,” Joaquim admitted, standing next to her chair.
    And that meant her older sister knew, yet hadn’t mentioned it. Why not?
    “I don’t care.” Marina pushed herself out of the chair so he didn’t have to lean over so much. “I don’t care who your parents were, Joaquim.”
    He threw a glance up at the ceiling. His lips remained pressedtogether, though, one of those expressions that reminded her so strongly of Oriana’s husband. Like he’s still holding something in .
    How hard had it been for him to say that to her? To admit aloud that he wasn’t who people believed him to be? It meant nothing to her—Joaquim was still the same man in her eyes—but clearly it meant a great deal to him. It bothered him, and she wished she knew the reasons for that. But that wasn’t what he needed right now. Instead of questioning him further, Marina took his hands in hers. “I will be waiting here when you come back. However long that takes.”
    He tugged one hand free and cupped her cheek. This close, she could catch the smell of his perspiration and his cologne—a fascinating and very masculine mixture. She laid her hands on his chest. When she gathered her nerve to meet his eyes, he was smiling down at her regretfully. He leaned closer and, fearing he might change his mind, Marina rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
    His mouth was warm against hers. The hand that had been cupping her cheek slid into her hair as his lips explored hers, softly at first, and then with more urgency. Marina pressed closer, her arms twining about Joaquim’s neck.
    She had waited so long for him to kiss her that she felt her heart would burst.
    One of his hands settled on the small of her back, holding her fast against him. She had never been this close to a man before, not in this way. It was thrilling. He was all heat and strength. He was something she’d never known before, but she wanted more.
    But then he pushed her away from him—not hard, just enough to make her stumble back a step or