Wed for the Spaniard's Redemption

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Are you saying that I should ignore your daughter?’ Rafael’s frown deepened. ‘I realise the situation has changed and I won’t suddenly drop out of Poppy’s life in a year’s time.’ He swore beneath his breath when Juliet gave him a disbelieving look. ‘It is not my intention to upset Poppy. She is a delightful child and a credit to you,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘She likes you,’ Juliet muttered. ‘You are good with her and your nieces.’

  The truth was that she’d felt a tug of jealousy when Poppy had wanted to play with Rafael rather than with her. She had been surprised that he was so patient with her daughter and his sister’s little girls.

  ‘You’ll make a good father when you have children of your own.’

  ‘That’s never going to happen.’ His tone dropped several degrees. ‘I’ve no desire to have children.’

  ‘What if your wife wants a family? I don’t mean me,’ she added hastily. ‘But in the future you might meet the right woman and fall in love with her.’

  ‘I told you when you agreed to be my wife that I do not believe in love.’ He walked up the steps out of the pool and grabbed a towel from a nearby sunbed. ‘Lust is an emotion I understand, but that doesn’t last for ever. Unfortunately too many people only discover that after they have made a legal commitment to spend the rest of their lives together, and the only winners are the divorce lawyers.’

  ‘Why are you so cynical? My parents were as much in love with each other when they died as they were on the day they married. They were happy together for more than twenty years.’ She swallowed. ‘It might sound odd, but I’m glad they were together when they were killed. I don’t know how one would have survived without the other.’

  Juliet followed Rafael out of the pool and stopped dead when she saw him staring at her leg. She had been so engrossed in their conversation that she’d forgotten about the scar that ran from the top of her thigh to just above her knee. The scar had faded over the years, but she was chilly after being in the pool and it was now a vivid purple welt on her pale skin.

  Avoiding his gaze, she hurried over to where she had left her robe and wrapped it around her, thankful that it covered her leg. She had come to terms with the scar, or so she’d thought, but she wished Rafael hadn’t seen it. No doubt now he thought she was ugly as well as plain.

  ‘What happened to you?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I was in my parents’ car when the lorry crashed into the back of it.’

  ‘Dios.’ He dropped his towel and strode over to her, settling his hand on her shoulder. ‘I didn’t realise that you were with your parents when they died.’

  ‘I don’t remember much about the accident.’ Juliet automatically turned her head to check on Poppy, and saw her playing in a sandpit with the twins. ‘The car developed a problem while we were driving along the motorway and my dad pulled over onto the hard shoulder. It was winter and very foggy. I was sitting in the front passenger seat and Dad told me to stay there while he went to get my coat out of the boot. Mum got out with him, and that’s when the lorry smashed into us.’

  She was conscious of Rafael curling his fingers tighter around her shoulder. She had never really spoken about what had happened to anyone before, but now the words came tumbling out.

  ‘All I remember is a loud noise like an explosion. I was in a coma for two weeks, and when I came round I was told that my femur had been shattered by the impact of the crash. At first the surgeon thought that my leg would have to be amputated, but he did everything he could and saved it. My thigh bone is held together with several metal pins.’ She swallowed. ‘My aunt had flown over from Australia and she broke the news about my parents when I came out of Intensive Care.’

  ‘Dios!’ Rafael repeated roughly. ‘Has your leg healed fully?’

  ‘It’s fine now, but eighteen months ago I had to have some more surgery and I was in hospital for a few weeks. Aunt Viv couldn’t come over from Australia then, because she was ill herself. There was no one to look after Poppy so she stayed with foster parents.’

  Juliet felt a pang, remembering how desperately she had missed her daughter while they had been apart. She watched the sunlight glinting on the surface of the pool. It was so bright that it made her eyes sting. That was the reason for the tears that blurred her vision, she assured herself.

  ‘Poppy is all I have,’ she whispered. ‘Bryan has never been interested in her but now he’s threatening to take my baby away from me.’ She spun away from Rafael and his hand fell from her shoulder. ‘I won’t let that happen,’ she said fiercely. ‘That’s why I agreed to your marriage deal and why I am determined to see it through.’

  She stared at his beautiful face, at the mouth that had wreaked such havoc on hers.

  ‘I’m using you as much as you are using me. Let’s hope that we both end up with what we want in a year’s time.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  RAFAEL STROLLED THROUGH the marble and gold entrance hall in the Casillas mansion, clearly designed to impress, with a champagne flute in one hand and a smile on his lips that anyone who knew him well—which only his sister did—would realise was entirely fake. He stopped to speak to his uncle, but although he was fond of Tio Alvaro, who was one of his supporters, Rafael’s attention was on the grand staircase where he expected to see Juliet appear.

  Where the hell was his wife?

  When he had knocked on the door of her dressing room before he’d come down to greet the guests who were arriving for his grandfather’s birthday party Sofia had called out that Juliet would be ready in ten minutes. That had been a quarter of an hour ago, and Rafael was growing concerned that she did not want to leave her room because she was afraid of being subjected to another frosty reception from certain members of his family.

  He had barely seen her for the past two days, while he had been at work at the Casillas Group’s head office in Valencia. He’d arranged for her to go shopping with a personal stylist who would advise her on a new wardrobe, and Sofia had offered to look after Poppy. However, Rafael had yet to see if the stylist had been successful in finding some clothes which suited Juliet’s figure.

  She had been fast asleep in his bed by the time he’d returned to the mansion late in the evenings, after long days of business meetings. And, aware that she had only recently recovered from the virus that had made her so unwell, he had been reluctant to disturb her and had slept on the sofa in his dressing room again.

  But she had been on his mind a lot. Too much. Instead of concentrating on what was being said at the meetings he had found himself thinking of Juliet when they had been at the pool. He’d pictured her in that light blue swimsuit which matched the startling blue of her eyes. The clingy material had revealed her slender figure and small, round breasts. She was as fragile as a bird, and when he’d seen that scar on her leg, before she had quickly wrapped her robe around her to hide it from him, he’d been struck once again by her mix of vulnerability and incredible courage.

  The realisation that Juliet might have died along with her parents in the car accident, and that he might never have met her, disturbed Rafael more than it should. After all, it was not as if she meant anything to him. He kept his affairs short and sweet, aware of the damage that the unstable mix of emotions and relationships could produce. His mother had followed her heart when she’d eloped with his father, and Rafael was the damaged product of his parents’ messed-up lives.

  ‘It is a big night for you tonight, eh?’ said Tio Alvaro.

  Rafael nodded his head, not entirely sure what his uncle meant.

  ‘I have heard rumours that Hector is going to announce you as his successor. It is what you have wanted for a long time?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’

  Rafael did not explain that his grandfather’s announcement would contain a caveat and that the hand-over of power would not happen immediately. To his astonishment he realised that he had not gi
ven Hector’s announcement a thought. He had waited for years and fought hard to claim his birthright, but tonight his mind was on Juliet rather than the CEO-ship.

  He raked a hand through his hair and asked himself why he was allowing a slip of a girl with an understated sensuality and eyes that he could drown in to affect him. Something caught his attention, and when he looked up towards the top of the staircase he felt the new experience of his heart colliding painfully with his ribs.

  ‘Ah, querida...’ he murmured beneath his breath.

  He had already been surprised by Juliet—by her unexpected fiery nature and the sensual heat of her kiss that had made him ache for hours afterwards. But as he watched her begin to descend the grand marble staircase, one hand holding lightly onto the banister rail, he was quite simply awestruck.

  She shimmered. There was no other way to describe her. The effect was created by the hundreds of gold sequins that covered her ball gown, but there was something else that made Juliet sparkle. It was self-confidence and pride, Rafael thought as he strode across the hall to the base of the staircase. It was also, he mused as he stood there, unable to take his eyes off her, her own realisation that she was beautiful. So very beautiful.

  And she was certainly making an entrance. The eyes of every person in the hall were focused on his stunning, sexy wife as she walked down the stairs towards him.

  How had he not seen before how utterly lovely she was? Well-fitting clothes helped, of course. The gown had been designed to mould her slender frame and emphasise the narrowness of her waist. The bodice was strapless and her small breasts were displayed like perfect round peaches above the low-cut neckline. The shimmering gold material followed the gentle contours of her hips before finally flaring out trumpet style to the floor.

  She seemed to glide down the stairs, and Rafael caught a glimpse of gold stiletto heels beneath the hem of her dress. He lifted his gaze up to her hair, which had had three or four inches cut off its length and now fell to mid-way down her back, gleaming like polished amber beneath the bright lights of the chandeliers. A stylist had added some wispy layers to the front sections of her hair, which framed her face and drew attention to her high cheekbones and forget-me-not-blue eyes.

  When she halted two steps above where he was waiting for her Rafael saw that her fair eyebrows and lashes had been darkened with make-up and her mouth was coated in a rose-coloured gloss. The finishing touch to her transformation was her perfume—floral notes mixed with an edgier, more sensual fragrance that assailed his senses and evoked a kick of heat in his groin.

  As he studied her he saw a wariness in her expression that he instantly wanted to banish. ‘Bella,’ he murmured, capturing her hand in his and lifting it to his mouth. ‘I’m speechless, chiquita. I would never have believed...

  ‘That a sow’s ear could be turned into something passably attractive?’ she suggested.

  ‘I never want to hear you use that terrible expression again. You are not and never have been a sow’s ear.’

  But he had been blind, Rafael acknowledged. Worse, he had been arrogant enough to believe that he could use Juliet to further his raging ambition. He had chosen her because of her downtrodden appearance. Dios, he had treated her as scornfully as his grandfather had. But Juliet’s ethereal beauty hid an incredible strength of will. She was a survivor—as he was—and he knew how lonely that felt.

  Shame ran through Rafael. Distaste for his presumption that Juliet’s lack of money made her less worthy of his respect. He had spent the past twenty years fighting prejudice from his family because of his lowly background—part-gitano, born in the gutter to a drug-dealer father. But he had ruthlessly exploited Juliet’s financial problems to persuade her to marry him without considering how humiliated she would feel to be despised by his rich relatives.

  ‘You look exquisite,’ he assured her. ‘I take it that your shopping trip was a success?’

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, making him want to soothe the place with his tongue. ‘The personal stylist insisted that I needed dozens of outfits to reflect my position as your wife. She spent a fortune on clothes. But I’ll pay you back when—’ She broke off and glanced around to check that they could not be overheard by anyone. ‘When our marriage deal ends.’

  Rafael laid his finger lightly across her lips, refusing to question why he did not want to think of the motive behind their marriage. ‘I believe in living for the moment,’ he said softly. ‘And at this moment, querida, I will be honoured to escort my beautiful wife into the ballroom.’

  Juliet smiled and her elfin beauty made his gut clench. He drew her arm through his and walked her into the ballroom, where most of the three hundred guests were now assembled and waiters were serving champagne and canapés. Many of Spain’s elite—a mix of old money aristocrats and nouveau riche millionaires—were on the guest list.

  He took a glass of champagne offered by a waiter and gave it to Juliet before he took a glass for himself. ‘Salud.’

  She sipped her drink. ‘Is it real champagne? I’ve only ever had sparkling wine.’

  ‘Of course it’s real champagne. My grandfather would not allow fizzy wine to be served at his eightieth birthday party,’ he said drily.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ She took another sip and giggled. ‘It feels like the bubbles are exploding on my tongue.’

  Rafael stared at her. He could not stop himself. Juliet was like a breath of fresh air, and he realised how stultifying and predictable his life had become until she had burst into it.

  He did not know what to make of the feelings she stirred in him. The hot rush of desire that went straight to his groin was something he understood, but he felt possessive, protective, and a host of other emotions that had never troubled him before.

  Juliet bit her lip and he realised that she had mistaken his brooding silence for irritation. ‘I’m not sophisticated,’ she mumbled, rosy colour running under her skin.

  ‘Thank God,’ he reassured her.

  The band had started playing and he led her over to the dance floor, handing their empty glasses to a waiter before he drew her into his arms. Even in high heels she was so much smaller than him that he could rest his chin on the top of her head.

  She danced with a natural grace that captivated him, and he swore silently when he felt the predictable reaction of a certain part of his anatomy to the sensation of Juliet’s lithe body pressed up against his hard thighs. He was in trouble, Rafael acknowledged, seizing the excuse that the tune had finished to step away from her.

  ‘Come and meet some people.’

  He took her hand and felt her tense as he led her across the ballroom.

  ‘Relax,’ he murmured, bending his head so that his mouth was against her ear and his breath stirred the tendrils of her hair. ‘Tio Alvaro and his wife Lucia are nice. Just be yourself.’

  Rafael introduced Juliet to his aunt and uncle and fielded their curiosity about where and when he had met his bride. He was conscious of the simmering look Juliet darted at him when he explained that it had been love at first sight when they had met in London.

  Lucia glanced at Juliet’s hand. ‘I see you are not wearing an engagement ring. Shame on you, Rafael.’

  ‘We married quickly—there wasn’t time to choose a ring,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Alvaro and I will be visiting London next month,’ Lucia said to Juliet. ‘I want to visit Buckingham Palace. Did you live near it?’

  ‘Not very near,’ she replied without a flicker.

  Rafael pictured the tower block in the rough part of London where Juliet had lived, and was fiercely glad that she and her little daughter would never have to go back there.

  ‘Where else do you recommend we visit while we’re staying in the capital?’ Lucia asked.

  ‘Well, if you like music, or ballet, I recommend booking tickets for the Royal Albert Hall. It’s a wonderf
ul venue to enjoy a concert. Or there’s the Royal Festival Hall and the Royal Opera House. All are spectacular.’

  ‘I suppose you worked as a cleaner in the Opera House?’ a voice said sarcastically.

  Rafael looked round and saw Hector was standing close by. His grandfather had obviously been listening to the conversation. Furious with the old man, he tightened his arm around Juliet’s waist, hoping she was not upset. Dios, his grandfather was a snob.

  ‘Abuelo...’ he began tensely.

  ‘Actually, I danced at all three venues,’ Juliet said calmly. ‘I was a ballerina, and in my very brief career I performed on stage at several of London’s best concert halls.’

  Shock ran through Rafael. He heard Hector give a disbelieving snort but Tia Lucia clapped her hands together and said excitedly, ‘I love the ballet—especially Swan Lake.’

  ‘That’s one of my favourites too,’ Juliet said with a smile. ‘I once performed the Dance of the Cygnets.’

  ‘Do you still dance?’ Lucia asked.

  Juliet shook her head. ‘Not professionally. I was badly injured in an accident and couldn’t continue with my ballet career.’

  Hector walked away and Rafael made an excuse, leaving Juliet to chat to his aunt and uncle, while he strode after his grandfather.

  ‘Abuelo.’ He caught up with the old man and scowled at him. It occurred to Rafael that he had spent all his adult life trying to win Hector’s approval—without success. He was the best person to take over running the Casillas Group—he knew it and so did his grandfather. But he could never escape his gypsy heritage and the prejudice and mistrust it evoked—not just in his family but in people generally.

  ‘Do not ever treat my wife with disrespect again,’ he told Hector savagely. ‘You have no right to make judgements upon her. You know nothing about Juliet.’

  Hector’s bushy brows rose. ‘Do you?’ he challenged.

  He stared at Rafael, and the curiosity in his expression slowly changed into something which might have been begrudging respect. But maybe he’d imagined it, Rafael thought. And then he realised that he did not care about his grandfather’s opinion of him. His only concern was that Hector would treat Juliet with the consideration and courtesy she deserved.