by Maya Blake
She stopped to right her footing. Gael’s nostrils flared as he took in her hesitation. Goldie started to shake her head, but he was already striding down the aisle.
Catching her hand firmly in his, he escorted her up to the altar. Murmurs went up in the small wedding party comprising her mother, Patience, Teresa—his housekeeper—and her husband, and the driver/bodyguard who gave her a small smile as she passed him.
They had barely stopped before the priest when Gael nodded at the tall, thin man to proceed.
The bilingual ceremony passed in a blurred rush from one moment to the next.
Her mother stepped forward to relieve Goldie of the small bouquet clutched in her fist. Then Goldie was listening to Gael’s deep, firm tones as he said his vows. Her eyes widened when his driver stepped forward with two rings laid out on a small velvet pillow. Gael’s was a simple broad gold band, hers a platinum double circle with yellow diamond studs holding the two rings together.
Her fingers shook as she held his ring poised over his knuckle and repeated her own vows. A furtive glance at Gael showed his complete attention on her as she uttered the binding words. When she had finished an unfathomable look crossed his face.
In that moment Goldie was certain she’d crossed a threshold she would never be able to step back from.
* * *
Gael had experienced a well of satisfaction as he slid the wedding band onto her finger and repeated the words that had made Goldie Beckett his wife. He’d secured his child’s future. Ensured it would never suffer the stings of illegitimacy and rejection he’d suffered. Would never be made to feel like an obstacle or an unwanted possession, either through emotional neglect or in the face of its mother’s ambition.
He forced aside the rush of bitterness that stormed him. So far he’d been able to keep his feelings under control—had been able to contain the knowledge that Goldie’s yes had come after his offer of compensation and a promise of a flourishing career.
He wanted to keep his emotions out of it—much as he kept his emotions out of his business transactions. And yet the boulder that had lodged itself in his chest since her acceptance of his deal wouldn’t shift.
It shouldn’t matter. Ultimately, he’d done what needed to be done for the sake of his child.
And yet it did matter.
He knew it mattered when he was invited to kiss his bride and sealed his mouth to hers and felt her brief hesitancy before her response kicked in.
It mattered when her gaze wouldn’t meet his as they acknowledged the applause and smiles of their small group of guests once the ceremony was officially over.
He had married her to secure his child’s wellbeing.
So why did his own suddenly feel precarious?
‘Gael?’
He shut off his thoughts and glanced at his bride. They’d returned home from the chapel to an alfresco lunch set up on a banquet-like bench beneath two orange trees in his garden. He’d invited the rest of his staff to join them, and had endured the endless toasts with an ever-stiffening smile.
‘Yes?’ he responded.
‘Are you okay?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Of course. What could possibly be wrong on a day like this?’
She frowned. ‘Please don’t patronise me. Have I done something wrong?’
His jaw gritted. ‘Goldie—’
‘You’ve barely said two words to me since we left the church. In fact we’ve barely had a conversation since we arrived here. I know we’re only doing this for the baby—’
‘I would prefer it if you don’t share our private agreement with the world.’
‘That’s just it. Why are we pretending to everyone that this is some sort of...love-match?’ she demanded in a hushed tone.
‘For the same reason we are entering into the marriage. To protect our child.’
‘But...’
‘Enough, Goldie. If you want to discuss this further we will—but not right now, sí?’
* * *
Another member of staff—the head of Gael’s vast stables—rose just then, to make a speech, effectively stopping her from speaking. Then there followed more speeches, mostly in Spanish, which meant she was left in the dark as to what was being said. But raucous laughter gave her a general hint.
She ate selectively, having eventually worked out which foods triggered her nausea and which would mostly likely stay down.
At one point, she caught her mother’s speculative gaze swinging from her to Gael and back again. Although Goldie smiled, she wasn’t sure it had been convincing enough.
She waited until Gael was occupied with entertaining a couple she’d been told were vintners from two estates away before excusing herself and returning to the villa. Accompanied by a smiling Teresa, who had insisted it was tradition that she help her dress for her wedding night, and her mother, who continued to cast curious glances at her, Goldie was forced to keep the starchy smile pinned on her face.
The moment Teresa departed, her mother faced her.
‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ Gloria declared, her gaze running searchingly over her daughter’s negligee-and-dressing-gown-clad body.
Her damning blush was all the confirmation her mother needed.
‘Oh, Goldie...’ The words were softly spoken, partly in regret, partly in tearful acceptance.
‘I was going to tell you when the time was right.’
Her mother nodded, but her eyes remained troubled. ‘Is that why you married him so quickly?’
It’s why I married him at all. But she knew she couldn’t say that. ‘It’s the right thing to do, Mom.’
‘For you or the baby?’
For some reason that softly voiced question tightened a vice around her heart. She watched her mother’s eyes fill with tears again as she sank down onto the bed. ‘This is my fault. I’m so sorry, Goldie.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. Stop crying, please.’
Her mother’s smile was sad and a touch weary. ‘You can stop trying to be the adult, here, sweetheart. I know I haven’t been the best role model for you. If I’d tried to make a better life for you, instead of selfishly wanting things I couldn’t have, you wouldn’t have rushed into this—’
‘I made the decision with my eyes wide open, Mom. I... I don’t regret it.’
She firmed her voice against the tiny white lie. The truth was that things had seemed so clear-cut on top of Table Mountain when Gael had whispered in her ear that this was the only viable option. But as she’d made her vows in that ancient chapel there’d been a terrible moment when she’d tried to imagine saying another set of vows, at another time and place, to someone else. The stunning realisation had come that she couldn’t imagine such a time, couldn’t picture another man. That she wanted this time and place to be the only occasion when she said those words.
Goldie still hadn’t been able to wrap her mind around that.
‘Are you sure, sweetheart? Because—’
‘I’m sure, Mom.’ She placed her hands over her mother’s and held her gaze, repeating the words to herself in the hope that they would begin to ring true.
Her mother nodded and rose. Thinking she was about to head for the door, Goldie’s breath caught when her mother wrapped her in a firm embrace, laying her cheek on top of Goldie’s head.
‘I should’ve done better. I should’ve been a better mother, fought harder to make us happy. I’m sorry, Goldie. I hope you forgive me some day.’
Tears filled her eyes, choking her response. ‘Mom...’
‘Shh, it’s okay, honey. You’ll do much better than me—I know you will. But if you ever need me please give me the chance to be there for you, okay?’
Unable to speak, Goldie nodded, then sat in silence as her mother left. She was still perched on
the bed when a knock came on the door to the adjoining master suite.
The door opened to reveal Gael, minus his jacket and tie. He prowled into the room, power and glory falling from his impressive frame. ‘Should I take it as a personal affront that my bride deserts me before the wedding banquet is over?’ he drawled.
Her insides tightened. ‘We’re alone now, Gael. You can drop the pretence.’
He kept coming, not stopping until he reached the bottom of the bed, where he leaned his long-legged frame against the post, crossed his ankles. ‘Where is the pretence, amante? You are my bride, and I did feel deserted.’
‘So what is this? A yearning to have my fawning act reprised behind closed doors?’
His eyes narrowed as he stiffened. ‘Act?’
‘You don’t wish anyone else to know this marriage is a sham, but do we have to pretend that there’s more to this union than there really is?’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this our wedding night?’ he demanded bluntly.
Alarm and more than a touch of breathlessness stabbed her. ‘In theory, I guess...’
His harsh laugh made her wince. ‘No, Goldie, not in theory. In fact.’
Her stomach flipped. ‘What are you implying?’
His mouth twisted. ‘You were a virgin the last time we were together, but surely you don’t need me to draw you a picture of what happens on the night following a wedding?’
She flushed, but boldly met his gaze. ‘Of course not. Except I’m certain that picture doesn’t apply to us.’
He slowly straightened, his chest rising and falling in measured breathing as he closed the gap between them. Goldie willed herself to stay still and not bolt the way her senses were screaming at her to.
‘Explain to me how you arrived at this interesting conclusion?’ he invited, his tone deceptively casual.
The dark gleam in his eyes said he was very much interested in her answer. And that it had better be to his liking. Or else.
She licked suddenly dry lips and searched for clarifying words. ‘We’re doing this for the baby, aren’t we? And sex...sex will just cloud the issue. Blur the lines.’
He gave a hard, short laugh. ‘So let me get this straight. You’re perfectly content to condemn yourself to a nunlike existence for the next five years, and presumably you expect me to willingly subject myself to the same sexless fate?’ he asked, his voice reflecting how ludicrous the idea was.
Goldie opened her mouth, shut it, then shook her head, confusion and exasperation filling her. ‘This is why I wanted more time before we jumped into marriage. These are things we should’ve discussed beforehand—’
‘So we could waste hours or days arguing it to death before you saw reason and gave in?’
Hurt and anger firmed her mouth. ‘I’m not a shrew, Gael. I’d thank you not to make me out as one.’
‘Very well. Tell me in simple terms that your assumption is ridiculous and we can progress with our wedding night.’
‘There isn’t going to be a wedding night! We have a deal. Sex isn’t part of it.’
His nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with quiet fury. ‘Only because I didn’t think I needed to spell out so obvious and fundamental a point.’
‘I’m sorry it’s such an important thing for you. It’s not to me.’
He rocked back on his heels, his features freezing like ice. ‘I see. You get what you want out of the deal and to hell with the rest—is that it?’
‘What are you talking about? I said yes because we both wanted—’
His hand slashed through the air. ‘Save it, cara. We both know that fifty million dollars and a guaranteed five box office hit movies had a big hand in you eventually saying yes.’
Raw ice doused her. ‘What did you say?’
‘Your hearing is perfect, Goldie,’ he drawled. ‘And I’m finished with talking.’
Her mouth was still gaping open when he took the last step and untied the belt of her dressing gown. The silk slid off her shoulders without much effort, leaving her in an emerald-green negligee.
Before Goldie could protest, one firm hand slid over her nape. He pushed her back onto the bed and prowled over her to plant his knees on either side of her hips. In the next instant his mouth plunged, hot and heavy and demanding, over hers, his tongue stabbing between her lips to take and ravage hers.
Her shock dissipated under the flames of his arrogant, unstinting caress. Despite a large part of her brain reeling under the accusation he’d flung at her, she couldn’t help but moan when one hand boldly cupped her engorged, sensitive breast. Her breasts seemed to have grown a size bigger almost overnight, their tips super-sensitive as pregnancy hormones ran riot through her. Gael was clearly appreciative of her new size, and his moans grew more guttural as impatient fingers brushed aside the straps and yanked the top part of the negligee down her arms.
He broke the kiss to stare down at her full breasts. Eyes firing a burnished gold, he took the globes in his palms and toyed mercilessly with the nerve-engorged peaks.
Her head went back as she arched under the exquisite assault. Goldie knew she shouldn’t be enjoying herself this much, that what he’d said to her needed to be addressed immediately, but the sensations zinging through her body, arrowing demandingly between her thighs, were too thrilling to stop.
She cried out as his mouth closed over one stiff nipple. Several expert flicks had her hips twitching, her breath shooting out in shameless pants as liquid heat ploughed through her. Back and forth he alternated his attention between the stiff peaks. Sent her right to the edge of bliss.
And then it did stop.
The loss of sensation was so acute she whimpered. The sound shamed her even as she launched her fingers up to stay him, and eyes she didn’t remember shutting flew open.
‘Gael...?’
‘This is why I didn’t think I needed to point things out to you. The chemistry between us is as natural and vital as breathing. But if you need to be told, then hear this. Unspoken or not, sex is part of the deal. You may have a ring on your finger, but—trust me—this isn’t a point I’m prepared to concede. So argue with yourself all you want to as long as you come back with a yes. Because tomorrow night the only bed you’ll be sleeping in is mine.’
He stepped off the bed with the grace of a jungle cat and stood for a moment, staring down at her.
Words stumbled through her dazed senses—begging, pleading words that had no shame under the heavy weight of her thwarted need. With super-human effort Goldie bit them back. He’d dealt her the gravest of insults, attacked her integrity. Even if she risked expiring from the gut-clenching desire clamouring through her she wouldn’t give in. Not when she knew his true feelings towards her.
Raising her chin, she firmed her mouth and returned his stare in silence.
Gael’s mouth twisted with mocking bitterness. Leaning down, he traced a forefinger from her clavicle to her cleavage. ‘That’s how it is to be, hmm? Well...good luck, cara,’ he murmured in a soft, deadly voice.
Then, turning on his heel, he walked away from her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR THE NEXT four days they remained locked in silent, seething battle. But they made almost comical efforts to be civil to one another in front of her mother, Patience and the staff. And Gael was an exceptional host on the occasions when they took her mother to a private gallery viewing in Barcelona and then to an open park showing of Tosca, both of which her mother lapped up with almost childlike joy.
But the moment they were alone his charming smile and drawling banter evaporated. He barely glanced at her as he busied himself with his newspaper or whatever meal he was consuming. The moment he deemed it acceptable he left the room, either to pound relentless laps in the swimming pool or to lock himself in his study.
Goldie had no such escape. On long walks over the estate her mother was growing to love, she endured probing questions and concerned looks. The only upside of the effort it took to maintain a happy face was that she fell into bed exhausted at the end of the day, with her sleep only disturbed at the crack of dawn by relentless morning sickness.
The day before Gael’s brother’s wedding—the last day of her mother’s visit—she entered the dining room to find Gael pouring hot water into a fine bone china teacup. Adding two slices of lemon and a cube of sugar, he stirred it briefly before setting it down in front of her, along with a small plate of dry crackers.
‘Drink this. Teresa swears by it for morning sickness,’ he said gruffly.
Her surprised glance swung to his, but he was walking away to get himself an espresso. Expecting him to leave the room, since there was no one to entertain, she gulped at a hot mouthful when he sat down at the head of the table.
‘Am I to assume that we’re talking to each other now?’ she asked, after a few minutes had passed and she’d drunk half the sweetened hot water. She was aware that her tone was a touch waspish, but she’d been unable to stem the hurt of the past few days.
‘Talking has never been a problem for me. Arguing without purpose, on the other hand, bores me.’
Her breath shuddered out. ‘So you either want to hear only what suits you or silence?’
He tossed back his espresso and set the cup down with a heavy hand. ‘No, Goldie, the only subject I’m not prepared to argue about or compromise on is the subject of sex. And since that subject appears to be a ticking time bomb between us, I suggest you tread carefully.’
The cup trembled in her hand so she set it down. ‘I know your mind isn’t one-track like that—’
His harsh laugh fractured her words. ‘Do you? I’m a red-blooded male, Goldie. One with a healthy sexual appetite and stringent views on fidelity. You’re the woman who’s taken my name and my ring but is refusing to share my bed. Since I don’t intend to break my vows, I’m left with a huge, potentially insurmountable problem. So do you really think I’m overreacting?’ he grated at her.