Redeemed by His Stolen Bride

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Redeemed by His Stolen Bride Page 13

by Abby Green


  Dammit.

  The hurt she’d been feeling had dissipated. She believed Gabriel. And she knew in her heart of hearts that if she was offered the choice of a sterile, emotionless marriage with Lazaro Sanchez over this...this sea of emotions with Gabriel, she would choose Gabriel again.

  Something she’d been clinging to—a sense of injury—dissolved. She realised that her reaction would only reveal to Gabriel that she had feelings for him. Why else would she have been so affected? She thought of his anger because she’d disappeared. The expression of what had looked like fear on his face.

  Impulsively, she got up from the bed and went outside the bedroom. The suite was dark. Quiet. She hovered uncertainly outside Gabriel’s bedroom door, not even sure what she was going to do, but then she heard a sound coming from the living room so she went in that direction.

  She found him sitting on the couch, watching a black and white movie on TV. One of her favourites. A classic. Her heart clenched. He was still wearing his tuxedo trousers and his white shirt was open at the neck by a couple of buttons, revealing the strong column of his throat. Stubble lined his jaw and her skin tingled with awareness.

  Then he looked up and saw her. He stared at her for a long moment, almost as if he wasn’t sure she was real. She was very aware of her flimsy silk negligée. Then he slowly sat forward and muted the movie.

  He put out a hand and Leonora took a breath and moved towards him. He caught her hand and tugged her down onto the couch beside him. Electric heat flooded her body. Instantaneous. Addictive.

  She opened her mouth but he put a finger to it, stopping her. He shook his head. And then he said, ‘Let me show you how much I want you. You, Leo, no one else.’

  Weakly she gave herself up to the temptation she’d denied herself earlier, and with every touch and kiss she blocked out the hurt and the fact that she would undoubtedly face more hurt in the future.

  * * *

  When Leonora woke the next morning the sun was up. She was disorientated, and then she realised where she was and remembered the previous evening. She looked around but the room was empty. She was naked and her body ached all over. They’d made love on the couch, like teenagers, and then Gabriel had taken her into the bedroom and they’d made love again. And then again, as dawn had been breaking. Each as insatiable as the other.

  Leonora groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. She didn’t recognise this wanton side of herself. In fact she barely recognised herself at all. Her emotions were so raw and all over the place.

  The revelation that Gabriel had known Lazaro all along still had the power to hurt, in spite of his assurances. He wouldn’t be human if he hadn’t been aware that seducing Leonora might affect Lazaro’s pride. But, having met Lazaro’s pregnant wife, Leonora figured Lazaro had more important things to consider than hurt pride.

  She put a hand on her flat belly. Could she and Gabriel have conceived a child? Last night? She had to be ovulating around now... Her pulse quickened. Even though everything logical told her that they weren’t yet ready for the seismic reality of a baby—they were still getting to know one another!—nevertheless she had to admit that she’d felt a pang of jealousy when she’d seen evidence of Skye’s pregnancy.

  Leonora suddenly imagined Gabriel appearing and finding her dreaming of becoming pregnant with his baby. She scrambled out of the bed and grabbed a robe. She went into the opulent bathroom and took a shower, standing under the hot spray for a long time, relishing the jets of water on her pleasantly aching muscles.

  When she soaped herself she saw the signs of Gabriel’s lovemaking: stubble rash on the inside of her thighs. She blushed and quickly rinsed off and got out. She roughly dried her hair and pulled on the robe again.

  She steeled herself before she left the bedroom, wishing she could feel blasé and nonchalant after a night like the one they’d shared. They were married, hardly illicit lovers, and yet she felt like a jittery teenager.

  When she emerged into the living area she saw the dining table was set up for breakfast. A hotel staff member was there, pouring coffee for Gabriel, who stood up when he saw her.

  ‘Good morning. I ordered a selection of everything. I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer.’

  Leonora smiled at the staff member as she poured her coffee and then melted discreetly away. She took in the array of food laid out—fresh fruit, yoghurt, pastries, pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast—and to her mortification her stomach rumbled.

  She sat down quickly, avoiding Gabriel’s eye, putting some fruit pieces in a bowl and helping herself to some yoghurt.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Gabriel’s question seemed innocuous enough and Leonora risked a glance at him, relieved to see him buttering some toast and not looking at her.

  ‘Fine, thank you.’

  Tired. She fought not to let the blush inside her rise to the surface when she thought of why she was so tired.

  After a moment Gabriel said, ‘I thought we’d spend a lazy day just wandering around the city. If you like?’

  Leonora’s heart thumped. She swallowed her food. ‘You don’t have to work?’

  He shook his head. ‘My meetings are tomorrow and everything is set up for them. It’s Sunday—who works on Sundays?’

  She’d used to. It had usually been quite a busy day for tourists visiting the castillo.

  Gabriel said, ‘You look surprised?’

  Leonora felt self-conscious. ‘I think I’d just assumed you’d be more of a workaholic.’

  Something fleeting crossed his face, but it was gone before she could decipher what it was.

  He said, ‘I probably would have found an excuse to work today, but now I have a reason not to.’

  It was ridiculous that she felt so excited and yet so trepidatious at the prospect of a day in Gabriel’s company. Hadn’t she spent a honeymoon alone with him for the best part of a week? But that had felt different—out of reality. It had all been so new. All-consuming. She hadn’t been in love with him then.

  She hid her trepidation and said lightly, ‘Then I’d like that.’ She thought of something, ‘What if the paparazzi spot us?’

  Gabriel was one of their favourite subjects to follow as he was usually so elusive. But there had been plenty of paparazzi outside the hotel yesterday evening so they knew they were there.

  Gabriel wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. He said with a wicked smile, ‘I thought of that and I have a plan...’

  CHAPTER NINE

  GABRIEL’S PLAN HAD been to order up some casual clothes from the hotel’s boutique, and now he and Leonora, dressed in jeans, shirts, light jackets and baseball hats, were ducking out of the hotel via a back entrance.

  Leonora’s hand was in Gabriel’s as he led her around the side of the hotel. She could see the paparazzi waiting at the front, looking bored, checking their watches, and she couldn’t help the small giggle rising as they made their escape. She felt as if she was playing truant from school. Giddy. And even giddier at this unexpected side of Gabriel.

  To her surprise, he took her to the nearest Métro station saying, ‘It’s quicker than a taxi—do you mind?’

  Leonora grinned up at him. ‘Not at all.’

  And that was the start of a magical and totally spontaneous day. They travelled around the city totally unnoticed, blending in with the crowds. Well, as discreetly as a six-foot-plus man could blend in with the crowds. Gabriel drew plenty of looks, but not necessarily looks of recognition. And if someone did do a double-take Gabriel and Leonora were usually gone before they realised who it was, having slipped down a side street.

  Gabriel had left it to her to decide where to go, so they’d started at the Eiffel Tower and then wandered to the museums, going into the Rodin Museum, where his famous sculpture The Kiss had suddenly taken on a whole new significance for Leonora.

 
They’d stopped for delicious coffee and pastries on the Île de la Cité, near Notre-Dame, and now they were wandering through the leafy Jardin du Luxembourg, chatting easily about inconsequential things.

  For the first time Leonora was acutely aware of families. Men carrying toddlers on their shoulders. Babies in prams. Her insides clenched. This could be them some day. And she appreciated more than ever Gabriel’s desire for their children to have a different kind of upbringing.

  On impulse, when they were standing by the lake in the park, Leonora turned to Gabriel and blurted out, ‘I want to have a baby with you.’

  He looked at her, a slightly nonplussed expression on his face, his firm mouth twitching. ‘Well...that’s...good...’

  Leonora cursed her impetuosity. ‘I mean, I know we have to have children, for so many reasons, but I actually...want to have a child with you.’

  Her heart was pounding so fast. She tried to blame it on the coffee they’d just had. But she knew it wasn’t the coffee.

  Gabriel suddenly looked more serious. He twined his fingers with hers. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Me too.’

  Leonora felt as if something intensely precious and delicate had been strung between them. And then she saw it: the heat in his eyes. The intent. It sparked the fire inside her and within seconds Gabriel was striding out of the park and flagging down a taxi.

  He bundled Leonora in and she looked at him, taking the baseball cap off her head, half terrified and half exhilarated at the urgency suddenly beating between them.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  But she knew.

  He gave directions to the driver to go back to the hotel, which wasn’t far. They were there within minutes.

  As they got out Leonora said, ‘What about the paparazzi?’

  But Gabriel just growled as he tugged her out. ‘They don’t matter.’

  Within a short minute they were back in the hotel suite and Leonora’s back was against the door, her mouth under Gabriel’s and his hands roving over her body, removing her clothes with ruthless efficiency.

  By the time they reached the bedroom, with a line of clothes strewn between the bed and the main door, they were naked.

  They fell on the bed, limbs entwined. Leonora didn’t know where she began and Gabriel ended. She’d never felt so primal in her life. When Gabriel joined their bodies in one cataclysmic thrust Leonora gasped. It was swallowed by Gabriel’s mouth as he started to move in and out, taking them higher and higher, until they could go no further. After a taut moment, every muscle straining against the oncoming rush of pleasure, they fell into it, down and down...and Leonora wasn’t even aware that she was crying as her emotions overflowed onto her cheeks.

  It was early evening when Leonora woke in the bed alone. She realised her face and eyes were a little sticky and touched her cheeks, horror dawning on her as she realised she’d cried tears of pure emotion while making love to Gabriel.

  She got up and dived under a steaming shower, as if that might wash away the signs of her weakness. She prayed that he hadn’t seen her emotion. The thought of him realising he’d moved her to tears made her scrub herself even harder.

  Eventually she got out, and only emerged into the living area once she’d put on some make-up and pulled back her damp hair. She dressed in casual dark trousers and a thin grey long-sleeved top. Clothes not remotely designed to entice.

  Gabriel was standing looking out of the window, and for a moment before he heard her she drank in the tall, broad-shouldered magnificence of him. She wanted him. Again. Already. Always.

  A sense of desperation mixed with panic gripped her and she felt like fleeing, as if she could escape the way he made her feel, but then he turned around and saw her.

  She couldn’t help the heat rising into her cheeks and was glad of the dusk outside and the low lighting hiding her reaction.

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ Gabriel said.

  Leonora’s self-consciousness was acute. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her—in case she started crying again?

  She forced a bright smile. ‘I’m awake now.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. We can eat here or go out. It’s up to you.’

  Leonora’s relief that he wasn’t making any reference to her tears was short-lived when she imagined sharing an intimate meal in this suite while she still felt so raw. And with the bedroom so near.

  She said quickly, ‘Let’s go out.’

  * * *

  In the back of the chauffeur-driven car on the way to the restaurant, Gabriel found that he was ever so slightly piqued that Leonora seemed so eager to venture out to less intimate surroundings. Previous lovers would have been only too happy to capitalise on his undivided attention. But then, Leonora wasn’t just a lover. She was his wife. And even as a lover...the lovemaking they shared was nothing like any kind he’d experienced before.

  When he thought of this afternoon, and how desperate he’d been, his only consolation was that she’d been as hungry as him. He could still feel her nails digging into his buttocks and hear her rough entreaties. ‘Please...don’t stop...’

  Gabriel shifted in the seat, irritated. He was regressing. He was no more in control of his body now than he had been when he was a lusty teenager. Por Dios.

  The car pulled to a stop and now Gabriel was the one who relished getting out of the intimate space. He went around and helped Leonora out.

  She looked around her. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Montmartre. There’s a good place I know up here.’

  He took her hand in his—a gesture that came to him as naturally as breathing air. A gesture he would never have allowed with previous lovers. Somehow it felt ridiculously intimate. But they were married, so that changed everything...didn’t it?

  They turned a corner and a beautiful square opened out before them, lined with trees and restaurants and bars, music drifting out into the warm evening air.

  ‘Oh, this is lovely!’

  Gabriel watched Leonora’s face as she looked around, a rare kind of pleasure flowing through him at her reaction.

  She caught him looking at her and she blushed.

  He said, ‘You’re unbelievable—do you know that, Leo?’

  She looked genuinely confused. ‘Why?’

  ‘You were born into one of Spain’s oldest dynasties and yet you’re not a snob, or spoilt—which, notwithstanding your father’s fall from grace, you could very well be.’

  * * *

  Leonora wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she took it as a compliment.

  Gabriel led her to a restaurant on the other side of the square. It looked discreetly expensive. The maître d’ greeted them effusively and showed them to a table that was artfully screened off from the other diners, while giving them a view of the charming square.

  They were seated and had been handed menus when Gabriel said, ‘You could very well have sought out a suitable husband at a much younger age. Why didn’t you?’

  Leonora hadn’t been expecting such a direct question. No one had ever asked her that before. But she’d certainly always been aware of people’s looks and speculation whenever she’d appeared in public.

  She took a breath. ‘I think for a long time I was angry with my father for failing us like that. For being...fallible.’

  A cynical expression flashed across Gabriel’s face. ‘I can attest to just how fallible fathers can be.’

  ‘Once it became apparent that I was the only potential saviour of my family I resented it for a long time. I resented the structures that haven’t changed much since medieval times. This notion of having to be married off for the good of the family name. I was made very aware of the fact that our—my—only real currency was our name and our lineage.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, things weren’t much different for me.
I alone am responsible for carrying on the illustrious Cruz y Torres name. My sister doesn’t bear that responsibility and I wouldn’t put it on her.’

  Leonora shook her head. ‘And you never minded?’

  Gabriel picked up an olive and put it in his mouth, chewing for a moment. ‘I never said I didn’t mind. When I was younger I contemplated running away many times. That day when Lazaro Sanchez confronted my father in the street and said he was his son... I actually felt slightly envious of him—that he wasn’t burdened by the family name.’

  Leonora looked at Gabriel. ‘Maybe that’s what’s at the root of your issues with him. The fact that you’re a little jealous of him.’

  Gabriel leaned forward and took Leonora’s hand. He brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it. He said, ‘I was jealous of him that night when he announced your engagement.’

  Leonora’s heartrate picked up. All she could see were Gabriel’s intense eyes, the gold flecks giving them a leonine quality.

  There was a discreet cough and with a struggle she looked up at the waiter, for a moment feeling dizzy. Forgetting they were in public. Had they even ordered? She couldn’t remember...

  Gabriel let her hand go. Starters were placed down in front of them. They ate in silence, and Leonora was glad of a moment to absorb what Gabriel had said, and to tell herself that his admission of jealousy didn’t mean anything. He had decided he wanted her that night. That was all. He had an ongoing rivalry with Lazaro. That was all.

  As if to reinforce that assertion in her head, their conversation didn’t stray into personal territory again. But after the main course had been eaten and taken away Gabriel’s gaze narrowed on Leonora.

  ‘Did you enjoy today?’

  Leonora was immediately rewarded with a flashback to when they’d arrived back at the suite earlier, ravenous for each other. She took a quick sip of wine—anything to cool her insides.

 

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