The Playboy's Touch (Book 2)

Chapter 17

Rachel

I didn’t argue as my mother and brother scolded me.

They kept reminding me how irresponsible I had been and the danger I had put both me and my reputation in. I wanted to argue with them that no one would care that a spinster was out with a man alone but I knew they wouldn’t care. And I hated to accept it, but they were right. I knew I had taken a risk in leaving with Vicente, especially because I knew the rules of society and I didn’t really know him to begin with. I had indeed.. like Enrique said.. acted like a love struck, desperate and attention seeking debutante.

His words kept echoing in my mind and they hurt. They hurt because they were true and also because they came from him. Enrique was one of the most open minded men I knew and yet he was disgusted and angry at what I had done. Rightfully so.

How could a day that had been so great end so poorly? Any hope of Vicente and I furthering a connection, friendship or intimate relationship was over. And when word got out of today’s events outside the Cortez home then my hopes with any other man in Spain were doomed too.

Mother and Oliver left for dinner but I asked for mine to be sent to my room-even then I barley touched anything.

I was putting on my nightgown and taking off my brace when Mrs. Abarca knocked and entered my room.

“Let me get that my lady.” She said as she knelt before me and took off the heavy and painful brace from my knee. I sighed in comfort as the blood flowed freely through my leg and Mrs. Abarca massaged it. We sat in silence and it wasn’t until she was helping me get into bed that she said something.

“You gave us quite a fright my lady. Truly, the entire house was petrified.” She said in both a warm and scolding tone.

“I’m sorry,” is all I said.

She helped me adjust myself and set a pillow under my knee which she had been doing for a couple of days now. It actually helped it stretch out and have support during the night. She began to clear my clothes and continued talking.

“Your mother and poor brother were a mess, but the Viscount was also in shambles.”

I gritted my teeth remembering everything he said to me. I was angry and hurt still . “I’m sure he’s over it.”

Mrs. Abarca stood at the foot of my bed and shook her head. “No my lady, I think it’ll take time for him to calm down.”

“You’re right. The man is as stubborn as can be-he’ll hold a grudge for a couple of days.”

Again, she shook her head and frowned. “You don’t understand my lady-the fear in his eyes when he was told you were missing..I had only seen it once before-and even though he hid it well today he couldn’t hide it from me.”

I tried sitting up-curious now. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I’ve only seen that look in his face when he was a young boy.. when he was told his mother wouldn’t make it past his sister’s birth. Like his world was threatening to fall apart.”

My heart hurt at the image of a young Enrique being told that his mom wasn’t going to survive, and him being scared and alone but also trying to be strong. Yet I shook my head.

“It can’t possibly be the same. There is no way.”

Mrs. Abarca shrugged as she walked out the door. “Maybe not.”

***

That night in my dreams I was haunted by what Mrs. Abarca had told me.

All I kept seeing was a young boy in a hall. He was sitting outside a room, sitting on a wooden chair with a book while there was painful screaming in the background. And I saw as a tall man walked to him and held his hand as he told him something.

As I got closer I saw this boy begin to cry silently as the man hugged him. And then, the boy looked at me and I gasped.

I knew those black eyes. I knew the shape of them and framing of thick eyelashes. I recognized the sharp cheekbones and narrow nose against tan skin. The man patted the thick dark black hair on the boy’s head and it all made sense.

Enrique.. this was Enrique as a boy.

The boy looked away from me and hugged his father as there small wails from a baby began inside the room. The man let go of Enrique and rushed to the room and left the boy outside with his tears. He wiped his face and clutched his book, holding onto it as if were the only thing keeping him sane.

The tears kept coming but he refused to let them shake him further. And seeing him like this.. seeing Enrique as this small little boy who was scared and had just lost his mother broke me. All I wanted to do was comfort him and hold him. I didn’t want to see him in pain.

And I suddenly awoke in a sweat. I was shaking and there were tears on my pillow and cheeks.

I was crying-crying for that little boy and what he had to go through. I didn’t want him to hurt anymore..

I didn’t want Enrique to hurt anymore.

And I hated myself at the idea of having scared him like that.