Lia led him across the yard, almost hustling him into the empty stable, shutting the door firmly behind them. The stable was being used to store hay bales, and they were piled up against the walls. Luc smiled as he looked around.
Lia turned to face him, sliding her arms around him beneath his suit jacket, feeling the hard resilience of muscle beneath the smooth silk. Leaning close, she breathed in his scent, hot male and exotic aftershave. Her hands slid lower, down over the hard curve of his buttocks, and she pulled him to her. He was already rock hard, and she pressed her belly against the rigid line of him, heard him groan against her hair. His hands clasped her shoulders and he held her tight for a moment then put her from him slightly.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“We need to kiss.” She kissed his chest, then his neck. “We can talk afterward.”
He groaned again and pulled her to him, tilting her head so he could stare down into her eyes. He kissed her mouth, gentle at first, then harder as Lia melted against him.
“I love you,” he said against her lips.
“I know.” And the last lingering doubts were banished forever.
He kissed her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth. After a moment, he became still against her. He examined the room, his gaze settling on a hay bale. He backed her toward it, then turned, sank down, and pulled her down so she sprawled across his lap. He pulled the band from her hair, ran his hands through the curls so they fell around her shoulders.
His fingers shook as he unbuttoned her white cotton shirt, baring her breasts. She shivered in anticipation as he stared down at her.
“No bra,” he said, his hands brushing over the already swollen peaks. The light touch sent lightning bolts to her groin. Lowering his head, he took one taut nipple between his lips, sucking, then biting gently until she whimpered at the sensations running through her. She had missed this so much; she needed his touch, needed to touch him.
Reaching down between their bodies, she found him hard, and she fumbled with the button of his pants. Finally, it opened beneath her fingers, and she slid her hand inside. His mouth went still at her breast. He groaned against her hair as her fingers wrapped around the length of him. She felt all the masculine strength concentrated, eager, and impatient under her fingers, and the moist heat welled up between her clenched thighs.
She used her other hand to lower his zipper so he sprang free.
“Lia,” he muttered, and she squeezed him gently.
Someone banged on the door. “Lia!”
Pete. Lia closed her eyes for a moment, thought seriously about pretending she wasn’t there. Luc had no such thoughts. He swore softly, took a deep breath, and then swore loudly. At Pete.
Pete ignored the suggestion. “Lia, are you okay?”
Lia cleared her throat, unsure whether her voice would work.
“I’m fine,” she croaked, stumbling to her feet.
“I knew this was too good to be true.” Luc reached up to fasten her buttons. “I guess this is fated to stay a fantasy, unless I do buy you a stable. Though you know, there are stables at Shellwood.”
“Let’s go,” Lia muttered. “Now.”
Luc smiled. He stood up, wincing slightly as he refastened his trousers.
“Go on,” he said. “Go put your protector’s mind at rest, reassure him that I’m not in here ravishing you. Or worse.”
Lia went over and opened the top half of the stable door. “Hi, Pete.”
Pete’s eyes widened as he took in her disheveled state. He peered into the stable as Luc came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder in a sure sign of possession.
“As you see, she’s all in one piece, and you can be the first to congratulate us. The engagement is back on.”
Resignation flickered across Pete’s face. Then he smiled. “Good, perhaps she’ll stop moping around now and get some work done.”
He leaned over the door and kissed her on the cheek. Lia felt Luc’s fingers tighten, but he said nothing.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Luc said and gently shut the door in Pete’s face.
He pulled her against him. “Now where were we?”
Lia wriggled out of his grasp. “About to have that talk.”
He sighed but nodded. “So, why did you leave? Why didn’t you stay and work it out?”
“I was scared,” she said.
“Scared of me?” He sounded almost shocked at the idea, and Lia smiled.
“You can be very scary, you know. But no, not really of you. The thing was, I wasn’t expecting to fall in love, and the feelings were too strong. Everything seemed so perfect, and I was waiting for something to go wrong. And I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.”
She reached up and stroked her finger down the scar on his cheek again. “All that stuff about my father, if I’d thought about it at all I probably would have guessed. But I shut it out, shoved it to the back of my mind, pretended it didn’t exist.
“That time on the island was like a fantasy for me, a dream, totally cut off from real life, like we were existing in some sort of bubble that protected us from the real world. I didn’t want to spoil it. I told myself I could have that time, that it was all I would ever have of you, so make the most of it. Then your mother turned up, and the bubble well and truly burst.”
“I’m sorry about that. I’d gone to see her, to talk to her, but by the time I got to Rome she was on her way to the island. I raced back. All I could think about was getting there, telling you I loved you, that we would somehow work it all work out. But you were already gone. I couldn’t believe it.”
“When did you know you loved me?”
“Probably that first night in the apartment. I found myself wishing you were someone else, someone who had nothing to do with Jimmy Brent. I realized I would give up all chance of revenge for a normal relationship with you. It’s not something I’d ever wanted before.”
“Me neither. Luc, can you really forget what my father did to you?”
He considered her question. Then shook his head. “No. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. You’re not your father, thank God.”
“And Mike. Can you accept Mike? He’s an important part of my life.”
“If you can accept my mother after what she did, I can accept anyone.”
“Your mother hates me,” she said.
He reached out a hand and smoothed back a stray curl. “My mother doesn’t know you,” he said gently. “When she does, she’ll love you as much as I do.”
“And if she doesn’t, if she can’t get over who I am?”
Luc’s smile faded, and she caught a glimpse of the ruthless man who had been willing to blackmail her to get what he wanted. “She’ll have to,” he said, “if she wants to spend time with her grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?” Happiness bubbled up inside her at the thought of Luc’s babies. “I like that idea.”
“Good, because I want plenty, but not just yet. For now, I want you to myself.” He reached into his pants pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around since you left the island, hoping I would get this chance.” Taking her hand in his, he stroked his thumb over her palm and then slid the sapphire ring onto her finger. “Lia Brent, will you marry me?”
She closed her fist around the ring, holding it tight.
“I will.”
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to my fabulous critique group, Passionate Critters, for all their help and support. And thanks to all the people at Entangled: to Alethea my editor for helping me bring out Luc’s nicer side, and to Liz for her gorgeous cover. I’m in love with Luc all over again.
Bio
Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant, she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. She then spent a number of years mixing travel (whenever possible) with work (whenever necessary) but has now settled
down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain.
You can find Nina at www.ninacroft.com.
The Spanish
Billionaire’s
Hired Bride
Rachel Lyndhurst
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Rachel Lyndhurst. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Alethea Spiridon Hopson
Cover design by Heidi Stryker
ISBN 978-1-62266-377-4
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition October 2012
Second Edition November 2013
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Botox, SEAT, Ferrari, Jeep, Turrón, Alfa Romeo Spider, Prosecco, Cava, Chanel, National Health, Ugg Rockvilles.
This book is dedicated to my editor, Alethea Spiridon Hopson, and publisher, Liz Pelletier. You’re both amazing. Thanks for taking a chance on me.
From the author...
Dear Reader …
I’ve always been a sucker for the tall, dark and handsome hero, he grabs my attention every time. Make him a sexy, high-achieving European billionaire and I’m completely sold. So when my editor said she’d love to see a fresh take on a marriage of convenience story, my powerful Spaniard, Ricardo Almanza, was a dream to create.
It felt so right giving him Helen Marshall; a British woman with a completely different socioeconomic status who’s not afraid to challenge him in every way. I wanted to ramp up the tension and sparks to fly, so sending them both off to the nightclubs and hedonism of Ibiza was enormous fun. So was splattering uptight, designer-clothed Ricardo with manure …
In The Spanish Billionaire’s Hired Bride I have tried to push the emotional limits of family loyalty and romantic love to the maximum. I gave Ricardo and Helen flaws and secrets to test them, to see how far two people could go for someone they love and what it might take to destroy that love.
And what kind of a billionaire comes without sunshine, a super yacht and lots of steamy sex? Mine don’t!
I do hope you enjoy Ricardo and Helen’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Chapter One
“Stop right there or I’ll snap your neck.”
Ricardo Almanza heard the blonde’s breath catch as his hand closed around her throat and pulled her backwards against his body. Her pulse was rapid beneath his fingertips, and her short gasps indicated fear. He loosened his hold. She might be a thief, but she was still a slightly-built woman and he had no intention of deliberately hurting her.
He grabbed her wrist and shook it roughly until she dropped the diamond necklace she was holding onto the bedspread. Her other hand flew to protect her throat, and she arched her back as if she was trying to look at him, or spit in his face, perhaps. Her voice was laced with panic.
“The Condesa—”
A pause. Her accent betrayed her, clearly not Catalan or a native of Ibiza and her Balearic sister islands. “Be quiet,” he growled in English. “And do as I tell you.”
Ricardo maneuvered her toward the edge of the bed, pushing his knees into the back of hers until her legs buckled, and she fell forward. Her face twisted against the silk coverlet and he sensed she was looking for a means of escape. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he quickly tipped her onto her back and was suddenly staring into the widest, greenest eyes he had ever seen. They flashed like emeralds, and shallow, rapid breaths escaped her parted lips. His gaze slipped lower, snagged for a fraction of a second by the sight of her breasts as they rose and fell beneath a close-fitting black T-shirt. She reminded him of a trapped panther, beautiful, wild and poised, ready to fight back. A savage creature that would scratch his eyes out given half a chance.
He let go of his quarry and stepped backward to get a better look. The terrified blonde lay there panting, her eyes darting back and forth with terror. But a few more seconds were enough to confirm his very first thought. If he really had to take a wife someday, this was exactly how he’d want her to look.
“You should have done more research before you targeted this place.” He trickled the necklace through his fingers as her eyes lasered into his. “These diamonds will never find a buyer on the black market. They’re unique and each one traceable. No criminal on Ibiza worth his salt would touch them. Unless, of course, you’re stealing to order.”
“I’m not stealing anything,” she hissed and pushed herself up onto her elbows. “I was just—”
“Just passing?” Ricardo injected a deliberately unpleasant tone into his voice, irked by the way her T-shirt now strained across her chest. A distraction. “You must think I’m completely stupid. Now take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You wouldn’t be the first amateur thief to hide stolen goods in her underwear.”
The woman sat bolt upright on the edge of the bed and stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. “I’m not taking anything off. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“You don’t know? I’m disappointed.” Clever, playing the outraged innocent, but he was having none of it. “You can call me Señor while we do this. Now take off your clothes, or I’ll do it for you.”
“If you touch me again, I’ll—”
“You’ll do what? Scream? Call the police?” Ricardo laughed and took a step closer, bending so that his face was close enough to see flecks of gold in her irises. It wouldn’t be the first time a corrupt police officer was in league with a petty criminal either, so he was taking no chances on what she may have already stashed away. “They’ll be here soon enough. Once I’ve finished with you …”
Her eyes were wide and clear. “Just promise me you won’t hurt the Condesa if I agree to do what you say.”
“The Condesa?” What was the little crook up to now? Not that it mattered, but it would be nicer not to have to wrestle her to the ground before the police arrived. He took a long breath and allowed his gaze to drop to her mouth as she stood up to face him. “Very well, we’ll leave the Condesa out of it.”
“We can be civilized about this.” The blonde licked her lips and her voice dropped an octave, becoming silky as she fingered his collar. “What is your name?”
Ricardo suppressed the urge to laugh. The little minx was trying to seduce her way out of trouble! “Take off your clothes,” he said firmly and then everything went black with pain.
…
“You’re an oaf, Ricardo,” Condesa Antonella Almanza muttered with an expression as sour as green lemons. “The poor girl thought she was about to be raped and murdered up there. I expect you to apologize when she brings our coffee.”
Ricardo rose from a white leather sofa and thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets. His stepmother never failed to irritate him. “Perhaps, dear madrastra, you would care to explain to me what that English woman is doing here in the first place? Apart from making coffee, fetching your jewels, and kicking like a rabid mule, that is.”
“And perhaps you would like to explain to me what you were doing sneaking around upstairs without permission?”
“I own the place, remember?”
She frowned and ran a beautifully manicured hand over her shiny black hair.
“Helen Marshall is my Girl Thursday.”
“Your what?” Ricardo said with a laugh of disbelief.
“The same as a Girl Friday,
only faster.” The older woman sniffed disdainfully, unwilling to look him in the eye. “It’s all about one’s work-life balance.”
Ricardo shook his head. “You kill me with your mad ideas, Antonella. You really, really do.”
She picked at an invisible speck on her Chanel jacket. “You don’t understand my needs, you never have.”
“Your needs? I think I’ve got a pretty good idea by now, judging by the accounts I approve for payment every month.”
“I need to relax more, have some ‘me time’.”
“Give me strength! What do you do all day? You have a cleaner, a cook, a gardener—”
“How dare you! I gave your father the best years of my life. He and your wretched family ruined me for anyone else. He owed me for that, and as a consequence, the debt is now yours, as eldest son.”
“The only son,” he snapped. “And I have never dishonored that debt. So how much are you paying this little English cuckoo?”
Helen Marshall coughed politely in the doorway, noting the fury on the Condesa’s face. She’d understood every word of their blazing row. “Your coffee, madam,” Helen murmured as she entered the salon, eyes lowered to the Turkish rug beneath her feet.
“Ah, at last.” The Condesa replied and waited as Helen poured the coffee with shaky hands. She took her cup carefully, so as not to tangle her nails in the tiny handle and jerked her chin towards the man Helen now knew was Ricardo Almanza. “Before you go, my appalling stepson has something to say.”
Helen took a step back from the coffee tray and slowly raised her face, catching her reflection in an elaborate mirror over the fireplace. She looked pale, her makeup having been partially rubbed off on the Condesa’s bedspread. She could no longer avoid acknowledging the tall shadow hovering to the far right of her vision. Ricardo Almanza’s aura dragged her eyes to meet his once again. The angry stare she remembered boring into her in the bedroom was the same, just calmer. His eyes were the color of Baltic amber, his hair as black as night and a trace of the mandarin and persimmon in his cologne hung in the still air. Gold cufflinks in the shape of a lion’s head glinted on the white shirt cuffs protruding from his black jacket. His fingernails were short and clean and a shiver ripped through her as she remembered the feel of his hard hands gripping her…
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