The Twelve-Month Marriage Deal

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The Twelve-Month Marriage Deal Page 7

by Margaret Mayo


  The next second he turned away. ‘Come, let me introduce you to the staff.’

  Indoors, in the vast entrance hall they were already lined up waiting to meet her. The housekeeper, his head cook, various maids, his secretary, his personal valet and finally the gardener and his assistant. Even the stable boys.

  It was an impressive line-up of staff and Elena could not believe that he needed so many. On the other hand it was a large house to keep and the gardens were vast so she guessed that they all had their duties.

  As she shook hands with each one in turn she was conscious of being studied as she had never been before. What would they think if they knew that theirs was a temporary marriage? Would they look at her with such respect then? Or would they talk and sneer behind her back?

  They must certainly be wondering why he had married her instead of Reina. Her sister would be wellknown to them. How tongues must have wagged when she’d reneged on their marriage. Not that it would bother Vidal. He would rise above it—as she must if she were to create the right impression.

  His housekeeper spoke. ‘Shall I take your new wife upstairs, Señor Marquez?’

  ‘Thank you, Marita, but I will do it myself.’

  Everyone silently disappeared and Vidal smiled at Elena. ‘I think you’ve created quite an impression. I’ve never seen such awe on their faces.’

  ‘I expect they were wondering what had happened to Reina,’ she declared with a flash of her magnificent eyes. ‘And I think it was curiosity rather than awe.’ Although she privately thought that it was Vidal himself they feared. He was very much the lord and master.

  She followed him up the grand curved staircase to a room that was massively oversized. It had parquet flooring and a monster-sized bed and was decorated richly in shades of gold and ivory. Leading off it was a sitting room, which he said she could have for her own personal use, and through another door were two bathrooms, all gold and marble with monogrammed towels.

  There were two dressing rooms as well. Vidal flung open the door to one that was totally empty. ‘Plenty of space for your belongings,’ he declared airily, and Elena noticed that her suitcases had already been brought up.

  She couldn’t help wondering, however, who had used it before her. Before her sister even. She couldn’t imagine Vidal living in this big space alone. Unless he used another bedroom when he was alone here? Maybe this one had been designed especially for when he took a bride. Or for when he entertained his lady friends! The thought of some other woman sharing that bed with him turned her stomach.

  ‘Shall we continue the grand tour?’

  Elena shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

  Her careless response dragged his brows together in a fierce frown. ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’

  And he sounded angry! Which didn’t surprise her considering that he had spent the night sleeping with her, but not touching her. How hard must that have been for him? Practically impossible, she guessed.

  And the next second she found out how impossible it had been. ‘I cannot do this, Elena,’ he growled. ‘I know I promised, but you have no idea what you’re putting me through. I want you in my bed and in my arms! And if you’d only relax I believe you want me too.’

  Elena closed her eyes, trying to shut out the vision of Vidal’s face contorted with frustration. He was so right. She did want him. But she was scared now in case it happened again.

  In the end she was given no choice. Vidal’s arms were around her, his mouth taking possession of hers in a kiss that declared war. In a kiss that took her breath away and left her reeling. ‘Forget that this is a temporary marriage,’ he insisted. ‘Forget the barriers. Believe that I am your husband. Come to me. Give me your body, let me make love to you.’

  Elena did not answer; how could she when his mouth had returned to hers? When he was filling her with sensations that felt like electrical impulses? Her whole being had become intensely, magnificently alive. He had switched her on with the ease of a skilful lover.

  From deep within her throat came a sound of exquisite pleasure and she could not stop herself kissing him back, her lips parting willingly to allow his tongue the access he demanded. She heard the deep guttural groan deep down in his throat as he tasted and explored, his arms binding her to the hard strength of his body.

  Fireworks exploded inside her head, her hands clutching, her fingers threading through the wiry thickness of his hair. The scent of him in her nostrils nearly drove her crazy, and when she urged her body closer to his the force of his desire shocked her.

  Instead of pulling away, though, she allowed herself to be carried along on a tide of passion. Feelings that she had never expected to experience where this man was concerned were blossoming and swelling and threatening to overtake her.

  It was like a roller-coaster ride of passion. The short heart-stopping ride to the first peak before a swift rush of adrenaline as she was plunged headlong into one electrifying experience after another.

  Each kiss, each touch of his fingers as he explored her breasts, finding the hard, sensitive nub of each one that sprang into life the second he touched her, each time she felt his hardness against her, all conspired to whisk her into a world where nothing was real, where senses were the order of the day. Into a world she had entered with no other man.

  There was no doubt about it. She wanted him to make love to her. And this time she vowed that nothing would stop her, not even her own built-in defences. She wanted this man with a fervour that should have shocked her but didn’t, a fervour that carried her along on a tide of emotion too big to deny.

  She therefore felt a sense of acute disappointment when he suddenly released her. How could he call a halt when he was the one who had started this? How could he deny what his body wanted? What both of their bodies hungered for?’

  ‘Vidal,’ she protested, trying to hold onto him.

  ‘Shh, mi amor.’ He touched a light finger to her lips. ‘I hear footsteps approaching. But I promise you—’ his lips curved meaningfully ‘—that this is not the end. Later, when we’re settled in. When your maid has unpacked and—’

  ‘My maid?’ she asked, her voice full of shock.

  ‘Naturally. She will look after you well. You only have to ask and she will—’

  ‘But I don’t want someone doing things for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing everything for myself. Heavens, anyone would think you were royalty!’

  He frowned. ‘I am a busy man—I thought you understood that. I race from one meeting to another, from one country to another. It’s appropriate that I have my needs catered for.’

  ‘Maybe you, but not me,’ she declared fiercely. ‘I can look after myself, thank you very much. If you’d kindly tell your staff that then—’

  ‘Elena!’ The warning in his voice silenced her and she turned wide golden eyes up to his face. ‘This is the way I live. This is the way you will live. You’d better get used to it.’

  The moment of passion had gone. The old arrogance was back. Vidal turned and walked out of the room and seconds later her personal maid entered.

  Elena did not see Vidal again for a few hours, which was probably just as well because his comments had infuriated her. This is the way I live. This is the way you will live. You’d better get used to it. How dared he speak to her like that? Why had she let him? Why hadn’t she come back with some equally smart retort?

  The answer was simple. She was doing this for her mother. She did not want to see her in hospital again and needed to keep a hold on her tongue, which was something she was not used to doing. And she certainly hadn’t realised what she would be expected to put up with. It was no wonder her sister had wanted out.

  Elena spent the day exploring the house, finding her way around, talking to the various members of staff who were all extremely friendly, if guarded, and no one said anything to make her fearful that they would question what had happened between Reina and Vidal.

  She walked around the gardens too. In LA she
’d lived in an apartment so it was enviable to have so much open space. There were fruit trees—figs, oranges, lemons, limes, avocado and many more. There was even a hundred-year-old carob tree, according to the gardener, in the middle of one lawn. And a round pavilion—although she wasn’t sure what purpose that served. Perhaps to sit in to escape the rays of the sun?

  Stopping by the stables, she made friends with the horses, in particular a magnificent black stallion that she was told was Vidal’s own personal horse. According to his groom no one else was allowed to ride him.

  Elena used to ride before she went to America, she and Reina each having their own horses, and she was very tempted to take out the stallion. Even if only to annoy Vidal. But perhaps not today.

  Her biggest find was the swimming pool and its assortment of terraces and seating areas. It beckoned to her like a consuming force and she hurried back indoors to don her swimsuit, happy that she had brought one with her.

  And it was here that Vidal found her. He watched unobserved from beneath a tree as Elena swam several lengths. Her long, lazy, graceful movements tempted him to remain in the shadows rather than join her. She was taller and slimmer than her older sister and he found it constantly hard to believe how much she had changed from the scrawny schoolgirl who had held no interest for him whatsoever. If anything she had been an annoying little nuisance, hanging around when he had wanted to be with her sister.

  His stomach muscles tightened as he strove to clamp down on his hunger for her now and he promised himself that she wasn’t going to get away from him tonight. Never had a woman held him in such thrall.

  Even if circumstances had been different, if she had been a complete stranger, he would have looked at her once, twice, and then again. He would have made it his duty to find out who she was. He would not have been satisfied until he had pursued and bedded her.

  His heart thudded heavily against his ribcage at the very thought of her sharing his bed tonight and he intended making sure this time that nothing happened to stop them—not even Elena herself. He stepped out of the shadows and as he did so, as if she had sensed him, she looked his way.

  ‘You found the pool, I see.’ He kept his tone soft and unchallenging, feeling himself drowning in the wide golden orbs of her eyes. Had she always had such gorgeous eyes? Why had he never noticed before? He wanted them close to him; he wanted to look deeply into them, preferably in bed, with her arms and her legs wrapped around him.

  ‘You should have told me about it. It’s heaven in here.’ She turned on to her back and began kicking lazily away from him.

  If it wasn’t an invitation to join him then he didn’t know what was. Urgently stripping down to his shorts, he dived cleanly into the water, coming up underneath her so that she gave a tiny scream as he rolled her into his arms.

  ‘You swim like a mermaid, Señora Marquez,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘And you look just as enchanting.’ He dropped a light kiss onto her lips, pulling back again quickly before she could object.

  ‘And you, Señor Marquez, should take more care of your clothes.’

  He frowned and then followed the direction of her eyes. His trousers and shirt that he had thrown off so hastily were floating in the water a few feet away.

  ‘That, my beautiful wife, is because I couldn’t wait to join you.’ The sight of her half-naked body was driving him insane. ‘Have you ever been made love to beneath the water?’ The words were out before he could stop them. And he held his breath as he waited for Elena’s answer.

  She looked at him for many long seconds before laughing. ‘I would assume it’s a physical impossibility.’

  ‘Would you care to prove it?’ he challenged, keeping his voice light.

  ‘Maybe if ours was a real marriage then I would.’ There was a glint of mischief in her amazing liquid-gold eyes that made him draw in a swift and uneven breath. ‘But since it’s all make-believe I’ll decline the offer, thank you. Especially as I can see your gardener heading towards us.’

  Vidal cursed beneath his breath. Elena was right. Marcelo was marching determinedly their way. For once in his life Vidal wished that he lived alone—entirely alone. Then he could make love to the magnificent Elena all day long if he so wished.

  Maybe they should have gone away on honeymoon—except that only today he had received further reports on her parents’ bank and they were not good. Immediate action was necessary if a catastrophe was to be avoided.

  Elena did not know whether to be sad or sorry that Vidal’s gardener needed to speak to him. The more they were together, the more he turned her on, the more she felt that her body wouldn’t let her down a second time. She wasn’t in love with him or anything stupid like that, it was simply that he had the most amazingly toned body, and the most charismatic eyes she had ever seen.

  His eyes told her a lot, even though he might not know it, turning a whole different range of greys according to his mood. She hadn’t learned all of them yet, but she was getting there. They had already gone from tempered steel to erotic silver. One end of the spectrum to the other. One end of his mood swings to the other. It would be interesting to find out what happened in between.

  Vidal’s conversation with his gardener lasted so long that Elena grew tired and climbed out of the pool, striding decisively towards the changing rooms she had spotted earlier. She was conscious of the men’s conversation stopping, conscious too of Vidal’s eyes watching her—so she walked that little bit taller, swaying her hips, behaving like the siren she had never been before.

  What had got into her she didn’t know, nevertheless it felt good. She was actually beginning to feel like a different person here. As though a temptress had climbed inside and taken her skin. It felt wickedly decadent. Perhaps this was the way to play the part? The only way she could cope with marriage to a man she did not love?

  Elena was in the middle of showering when she sensed Vidal’s approach. His footsteps were silent, but the air changed. It thickened and she froze, stilling her movements.

  He did not call her name, he simply appeared.

  In the shower with her!

  Stark naked!

  ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked when he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against him. Thighs against thighs, the roughness of his chest hairs against the softness of her breasts. The hardness of his erection against her pelvis. Elena wasn’t sure whether to protest or enjoy.

  She was given little option when the next second a firm, long-fingered hand cupped her chin and turned her face up to his where his waiting lips greedily captured hers.

  ‘Mmm,’ he groaned deep in his throat, thrusting one thigh between hers. ‘You taste divine, Elena.’

  As did he! He tasted of male hunger, and he promised hot sex. Which meant she either got out now—or not at all.

  Unconsciously she moved her body closer, feeling his hard maleness against her own softer femininity, and in that moment of weakness the decision had been made for her. Of their own accord her lips parted, her head falling back on her shoulders, and nothing mattered now except the power and passion, the strength and sensuality that Vidal wielded over her.

  ‘Not only do you taste good, but you feel good, mi amor.’

  His voice was little more than a growl and Elena responded with a groan of her own. It took her several more seconds to realise that he was no longer kissing her.

  He was not even touching her!

  She opened her eyes, at first seeing nothing but hot glittering silver, but when she took in the wider view she realised that his legs were braced and his hands were on the wall either side of her. She was in a human cage where to move was to touch him, where not to move was swiftly becoming torture.

  Water coursed across his back and along the tensed muscles of his arms, running down his magnificent torso, flattening his dark chest hairs, making her want to touch, to stroke, to feel his strength—but there was something strangely taboo about it at this moment.

  He was the ca
ptor, she was his prisoner. He was the dominant male. She was his to play with as he liked. And heavens, did she want him to play with her. Every female hormone that she possessed was clamouring for release, and the longer he stood there not touching, the more potent they became.

  ‘Vidal…’ she whispered tentatively.

  ‘Vidal, what?’

  The question came from somewhere deep in his throat and Elena fancied that she could feel the vibration. A further tremor shivered through her limbs. ‘Nothing,’ she managed, shaking her head, wanting to turn her eyes from his, but they were held there by a magnetic force over which she had no power.

  ‘Were you perhaps asking me to kiss you—like this?’ With his eyes still holding hers he stroked gentle fingers down her cheek, tracing her shape with inconceivable slowness, creating a whole host of sensations, before trailing those same incredibly knowing fingers at a snail’s pace down the arch of her throat, pausing on the fluttering pulse at its base, exploring its erratic beat before returning to tip up her chin.

  His face came down to hers like a dark angel, fear and excitement threatened to overspill, and Elena could contain herself no longer. She met his lips with an eagerness she feared regretting later. Hunger took over. Vidal had created a storm inside her—one that only he could assuage.

  ‘You are aware of where this kiss will lead?’ His hoarse voice pulsed against her mouth. ‘You are prepared? Because there’ll be no backing out this time. You’ll be my wife, my woman, totally and completely.’

  Elena hardly took in what he was saying. His touch, the powerful feel of his lips, had drugged her, made her insensitive to everything except the feel of him against her hungry body. She wanted more than his kisses, she wanted him inside her. Now! No man had ever driven her to such hunger before. It was almost unbearable.

  ‘I’m yours,’ she whispered.

  The groan in Vidal’s throat echoed triumphantly in the enclosed space. His kiss burned into her senses, creating a crescendo of feelings that threatened to explode. The fact that they were in the shower was forgotten, she hardly felt the harsh jets of water pounding their bodies.

 

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