The Ring The Spaniard Gave Her - Lynne Graham Page 0,30

worry about the pub and losing that fear had given him a new lease of life. ‘Although he’s furious that you were hurt, he’s very relieved that you’re not marrying Brenton.’

‘He’s not the only one of us relieved,’ Suzy conceded, spiralling curls of copper falling across her pale cheek, her green eyes reflective, her skin translucent in the stark daylight, her lips a plump and rosy contrast.

Tensing, Ruy glanced away, suppressing his response to her because it was destroying his concentration. No model had ever had that effect on him before. But then, until Suzy, his relationship with his models had been strictly business and devoid of any sexual element. Why was it different with her? Why couldn’t he retain his detachment with her? He had assumed that sex would remove much of her mysterious allure, although that was not why he had ended up in bed with her.

No, he had ended up in bed with her because hunger had overpowered restraint and passion had silenced every logical reservation. That had never happened to Ruy before and such a weakness, such an inability to withstand temptation, disturbed the legendary even temperament that he cherished. It was even more daunting that in spite of acknowledging the folly of a sexual connection with his model he still only had to look at Suzy to want her afresh. And this was the woman he was choosing to take home with him? The very first woman who would learn that Ruy Valiente was also V, the famous portrait painter, who scrupulously conserved his anonymity? He crushed the thought in favour of focussing on what was most important to him.

‘Will you come to Spain with me?’ Ruy pressed softly.

Suzy wondered if Ruy had always had that innate ESP that told him the optimum moment to pose a thorny question. She studied him, her gaze lingering on the black spiky lashes framing his stunning eyes, the angle of a hard cheekbone in sunlight, the sensual curve of his moulded lips. He was beautiful but it was the sheer driving force of will behind that façade that worried her the most. He hadn’t been joking when he said that when he wanted something he went all out to get it. He never, it seemed, forgot his objective for an instant. It was a decidedly unnerving trait, but her father’s opinion of him had eased her misgivings and even made her feel a little foolish for backing nervously away from Ruy and his proposition.

‘Yes, I’ll accompany you,’ she stated. ‘I’ll start my list of cheat-sheet questions today.’

‘You’ll also be trying on wedding gowns for me this afternoon.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Suzy believed that she had misheard him.

‘I want to paint you in a wedding dress but not the same one I found you in. I’ve ordered a selection to be brought here this afternoon and I’ll choose the most suitable. Then you can go for a walk in the woods or something and dirty it up...add a strategic rip or two...’ Ruy shifted a careless hand that implied such behaviour was so normal as not to require further explanation.

‘You’ll have to cut the dress if you want rips,’ Suzy told him, striving not to sound as though she considered the concept to be strange. ‘I tore my dress climbing the tree and jumping out of it and I’m not doing that again.’

‘You can pose for the rough drawings here, but I plan to set the background in Spain. There’s an orange grove at my home there.’

‘You live on a fruit farm?’ she asked with interest.

‘There are orange orchards nearby,’ Ruy parried, knowing he ought to tell her the truth, but holding out for as long as he could because he enjoyed her resolutely unimpressed attitude to him and he was afraid that unveiling the reality of his astronomic wealth would fatally change that.

And he preferred her as she was: an ordinary girl from an ordinary working background. Her breezy irreverence stemmed from that solid base. She had strong values. She respected hard work and was entirely free of snobbery. He had observed her in the pub and interacting with his nieces, learning that she was considerate towards the elderly and that she loved children, who loved her back because she was one of those adults who had never quite buried their inner child. Right now, she was relaxed with him, which was exactly how he needed her to be before he could paint her. How much would her