Beautiful Sacrifice: A Novel

“I’d expect nothing less leading to the bed of a princess,” Hunter said. He gave her neck a quick, biting kiss.

Celia hurried forward.

Hunter and Lina walked more slowly. He had time to size up the woman who looked more like Lina’s older sister than her mother.

The files Hunter had read told him that Celia had had her first and only child after a difficult birth at age seventeen. Yet she looked barely a handful of years older than her daughter, a testament to good genes and better plastic surgeons.

“Lina,” Celia said, stretching up to embrace her daughter. “It’s about time!” The words were in Spanish.

Although Lina leaned down into the hug and her mother stood on precariously high heels, Lina was still taller than Celia.

Those long legs add an extra punch that high heels can’t match.

The memory of Hunter’s words made Lina feel much more feminine than her travel-wrinkled clothes.

“I told you I’d be here for Abuelita’s birthday and the holidays,” Lina said in English.

Celia’s mouth shaped into a delicious pout and she said in Spanish, “It’s fortunate that Abuelita insisted on an intimate family celebration this year. You know I depend on you for family arrangements.”

“Really? I’ve never noticed,” Lina said in English.

Hunter told himself he hadn’t heard Celia emphasize “family” twice, but he knew he had.

So had Lina.

“Cecilia, this is Hunter Johnston,” she continued in English, deliberately standing very close to him. “Think of him as a very, very good friend. I do. Hunter, meet Cecilia Reyes Balam, my mother.”

Hunter’s poker face held, but it was a near thing. Lina’s emphasis on the second “very” had been a declaration of intimacy. When it came to throwing down gauntlets, she’d been taught by experts.

He smiled at Lina, letting every bit of the heat and possessiveness he felt shine through.

Celia would have to have been blindfolded to miss it. The flat line of her mouth said that she didn’t like what she saw.

“Senora Reyes Balam,” Hunter said deeply in Spanish, his voice caressing the words like a native speaker. “It is my pleasure and honor to meet you. I now understand the source of Lina’s beauty.”

Then he waited for Celia’s next move.

With the smoothness of a businesswoman and the elegance of a queen, Celia held out her hand. Hunter took it in both of his, letting her measure the difference between his big, work-hardened fingers and her own fragility.

“Mr. Hunter.” Celia nodded, switching to English. “How…unexpected.”

“A thousand apologies,” Hunter said in Spanish. “Lina and I just decided it was time for me to meet her family.”

Lina had a good poker face, too. She’d been wearing it since she’d bent down to greet her mother. Deliberately, Lina rubbed her cheek against Hunter’s arm in a lover’s caress.

Celia watched with eyes that missed nothing. She didn’t like what she was seeing, but she was too shrewd to leap into uncharted territory.

“But of course,” Celia murmured. “Lina’s little friends are always eager to meet her family.”

Translation: Men saw Lina as a way to marry well.

“She is her mother’s daughter,” Hunter said. “I imagine that your marriage to Dr. Philip Taylor was quite a surprise to your family.” Then he smiled.

It wasn’t his warm and fuzzy smile. It was a statement that if Celia wanted open warfare, he’d deliver it. Philip might have come from an old Boston family, but they were hardly aristocrats. Yet Celia had married him despite his lack of great money and noble pedigree.

Celia blinked and reassessed Hunter. He might be a fortune hunter, but he wasn’t weak or stupid. Which was truly unfortunate. Celia’s grandmother had made no secret of her desire for Lina to marry a Mexican man of good family.

Lina spoke casually, as though she was unaware of the dangerous tides shifting beneath the conversation. “I thought it would be a lovely birthday present for Abuelita. I know she worries that I don’t like men.”

Hunter almost choked. He gave Lina a fast sideways look. She responded with a smile that announced just how much she liked a particular man: Hunter Johnston.

Lina was enjoying this entirely too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil her fun. He had a feeling that she was well and truly fed up with being shoved at men and reminded it was her duty to have children.

“You look exhausted, dearest,” Celia said, tugging Lina toward the house. “Mr. Johnston will bring your luggage while you greet—”

“Hunter isn’t my lackey,” Lina cut in. “Is the second-floor guest room across from me prepared?”

“No. All the rooms in the house are assigned.”

That many guests for Abuelita’s intimate family party? Lina thought sarcastically. But all she said was “Then one of the casitas will do.”

Celia stopped. “Abuelita and Carlos won’t tolerate you sleeping in the same room as your…guest.”

“We’ll each take a casita,” Lina said, shrugging like it made no particular difference to her.

“You will take your regular room. Mr. Johnston will be in the casita next to Philip.”

“I thought you just said that all the rooms in the house were assigned to guests,” Lina said.

“Carlos didn’t assign your room to anyone else. The men living in the house are guards, not guests.”

“Guards?” Lina asked sharply.

“Of course. Guards have lived in the house for years. You just haven’t noticed because you’re never here for more than a few hours before you take off for one of Philip’s grubby little digs.”

“Carlos must be as paranoid as Philip,” Lina said.

Celia shrugged. “The world has changed. Especially now. Every crazy in the world has come to the Yucatan to celebrate the destruction of the old and the coming of the new.” She looked at Hunter. “I do hope you aren’t one of those deluded souls?”

Hunter smiled.

Lina winced.

“No, ma’am,” he drawled in English. “Your beautiful daughter is all the lure this boy needs to come to the Yucatan. But Tulum sure did look crowded.”

“Idiots,” Celia said. “Chasing legends like village children after butterflies.” She turned toward one of the paths leading into the shadows. “Come, Mr. Johnston. You can settle in Casita Cenote while I take Lina to her room. After you have time to refresh yourself, dial three on the phone. Someone will come and bring you to the house.”

Lina didn’t object to the separate quarters. Casita Cenote was old, but better than the stable, which she’d bet was her mother’s first choice for Hunter. “I’ll show him the casita. I’m sure you’re busy juggling Abuelita’s celebration and a house full of guards.”

For a moment Hunter thought Lina’s mother would object to letting them out of her sight. Then Celia gave him directions to the casita and turned to her daughter.

“Come with me,” Celia said. “We have much to talk about and very little time together.”

Lina looked at Hunter, who smiled with a warmth that made her flush.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m good at finding my way around.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CELIA LOOKED UP AT THE YOUNG WOMAN WHO WAS SUCH a complicated mix of many cultures—Lina had the stunning facial structure of a female who could trace her royal Balam ancestors back six centuries, the height of her noble Spanish ancestors, and the tongue of an independent American woman.

All of it, thrown away.

“A gringo?” Celia demanded. “Is that how you repay your family? It is your duty to carry on the family line.”