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filling the gap between his thin lips. “The Almanza playboy heir forced into the institution he despises. The misogynist son shackled to a brood mare against his will. You’re settling down … It will make you the most miserable man in Spain.”
    “And that will bring you joy?” Ricardo shook his head. “What did I ever do to you to deserve such hatred? There was once a time when you treated me like your own son.”
    “That time ended when your father took everything I loved. The sins of your father are being visited upon you, Ricardo. It’s my last act of revenge on him.” His dark eyes clouded over and he looked away. “I will attend your wedding and then it’s over between us. My honor and dignity will be restored. For what it’s worth, your torment will bring me no joy. I did once love you like my own son.”

Chapter Three
    Helen braced herself as the private jet bounced a couple of times and the wheels hit the rain-lashed landing strip. Her hands gripped the armrests until it came to a halt and she heard the clunk of Ricardo’s seatbelt being released. She was furious that they were making this whistle-stop journey to the UK at all, but Ricardo had insisted. She’d hoped to keep her parents in blissful ignorance about what she was about to do, but the only way they were going to get married within days was to do it in Gibraltar. And that meant she had to produce her birth certificate, which inconveniently was in an old shoebox somewhere at Primrose Farm.
    “Don’t look so worried,” Ricardo said cheerfully. “Your parents are going to love me.”
    Helen stared bleakly out of the window. “I hate to agree with you on anything, but I think in this instance you’re right.”
    The elation in her parents’ voices was unmistakable when they had chatted over the phone. The financial crisis that had threatened to consume them had been lifted in a matter of days. Years of struggle and worry had been dispelled, and they sounded like different people. Happy. Free. The advance payment of Ricardo’s money had given them their lives back in exchange for three months of sacrifice on her part. But the deception made Helen feel sick to her stomach. She knew the joy she would see on her mother’s face would be like stolen goods, not really hers to share or take any pleasure in. But telling them the truth about where the money had come from and why would only make her feel better.
    The truth wasn’t an option, anyway. Ricardo had insisted on this day trip to not only to fetch her birth certificate, but also to give their brief engagement authenticity. It wasn’t a coincidence that a mob of paparazzi had been waiting for them at the airport. Ricardo wanted to make the news.
    “Oh God,” Helen muttered as she saw what was on the tarmac. “Isn’t a brand new Aston Martin over the top?”
    “Not in the least. You are the fiancée of one of the richest men in Europe now. There are certain standards to be maintained. Enjoy it.”
    Thirty minutes later the car roared up a steep hill, and the sun burst through a cloud to reveal an astonishing vista. Golden fields of rapeseed, swathes of mauve stone , and green hedgerows formed a patchwork quilt over the rolling landscape. The dark blue sea on the horizon shimmered and glistened, crashing against rugged coves, and a church steeple spiked through a hamlet of thatched cottages clinging to the edge of a silver river.
    Helen breathed out slowly. “Home.”
    Ricardo nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
    Helen smiled and looked out of the window again, avoiding his eyes and the dark contract they were holding her to. If only this engagement was for real… Shocked by her involuntary thought, she immediately locked the notion away in a mental drawer marked “impossible dreams.” The very idea was madness, crazy with a side order of delusion. She needed to remember that he was no more than a feckless playboy, a man prepared to marry for the sake of a bet. Determined to win at