She was shaking—or was it him? she wondered when he lifted her hand to his mouth and grazed his lips over her knuckles. ‘Don’t look at me like that. We’ll take it slowly. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Do you trust me?’ He tilted her chin so that she was forced to look at him, and the tender passion in his eyes caused her to nod wordlessly.
She gave him a tentative smile and heard his harsh intake of breath before he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with a slow, sensual expertise that left his desire for her in no doubt. The provocative thrust of his tongue between her lips inflamed her senses and she clung to him as he deepened the kiss to a level that was flagrantly erotic.
‘You are so small, so perfect,’ he whispered before trailing a path of kisses along her jaw, and then down to the pulse beating frantically at the base of her throat. He cupped her breast in his palm and stared down at her nipple before taking it into his mouth and feeling it harden to a tight peak beneath the gentle lash of his tongue. When she whimpered, he transferred his attention to its twin, and felt a surge of male satisfaction when she twisted her hips restlessly. He knew what she wanted, his beautiful English rose, and with deliberate intent he pushed her legs apart and trailed his fingers through the tight curls at the apex between her thighs.
She was ready for him, and for a second he almost lost control and plunged into her with primitive force. Instead he drew on his formidable willpower and stroked his finger gently up and down the entrance to her vagina until she parted for him and he slid in deep, focusing on her face as he watched her eyes dilate with pleasure.
‘Javier…please,’ she whispered against his throat, and he smiled, confident that he would give her more pleasure than she had ever known. He might not know much about emotions, but he was a skilled and generous lover. Although where Grace was concerned perhaps not a very patient one, he conceded ruefully, feeling his penis throb unbearably with the urgent need to experience sexual release.
He couldn’t wait much longer. He hadn’t felt as hot and hard as this since he’d been a teenager. He took her lips again and felt the sweetness of her tongue inside his mouth, building the desire that coiled low in his stomach. Stifling a groan, he reached into the bedside drawer and dealt with the protective sheath with swift efficiency born of plenty of practice.
‘Javier…!’ Grace cried out when she felt him ease away from her. Was he going to stop? The idea was unbearable. Her entire body was trembling with the need to feel him inside her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to urge him down onto her. She felt him slide his arm under her bottom and lift her hips, and with an instinct as old as time she spread her legs so that the solid ridge of his penis rubbed against her moist opening. Slowly and with infinite care he eased forwards and she felt her muscles stretch to accommodate him.
‘Am I hurting you?’ His voice was rough and low-pitched, and when she stared at him she noted the beads of sweat on his brow. His face was a taut mask, and his amber eyes seemed to burn into her soul.
‘No,’ she lied. ‘Don’t stop.’ It didn’t really hurt, it was just so new and overwhelming, but the last thing she wanted was for him to withdraw from her. She offered him a shy smile and he paused fractionally, and then gave one hard thrust that wrenched a sob from her throat. Almost instantly the discomfort subsided to be replaced with a wondrous sense of fullness, and she wriggled her hips experimentally as she revelled in the delicious sensations he was arousing within her.
‘Forgive me, querida,’ he whispered, resting his brow against hers and smoothing her damp hair back from her face. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No!’ Her reply was instant and unequivocal, but just to make sure she wrapped her legs around his back. ‘Don’t stop; I like it,’ she whispered.
Her smile tore at his heart. ‘You’ll like it a lot more yet,’ he promised as he began to move, slowly at first and with great care until she grew accustomed to the feel of him pulsing inside her. He pushed her hair away from her breast and dipped his head to tease her nipple with his tongue, and then as passion began to build he increased the speed and intensity of each thrust.
Grace twisted and writhed on the bed, her whole being focused on the exquisite sensation of having Javier drive into her, penetrating her deeper and deeper until she didn’t think she could bear much more without exploding with pleasure. Above her she could see their reflections in the mirror, his bronzed limbs entwined with hers making an erotic contrast to her pale skin, and she felt an illicit thrill of enjoyment as she watched him make love to her.
Little spasms were rippling through her, and she dug her nails into his shoulders as his harsh, rasping breath sounded in her ear. Suddenly she was there, teetering on the edge of a place to which only Javier had the key, and when he clamped his hands on her buttocks to still her desperate movements she felt her body convulse with the power of her climax.
‘Oh!’ Nothing had prepared her for the flooding sweetness, and tears stung her eyes as he paused briefly and then thrust again with a barely leashed savagery that should have appalled her but which only served to increase her excitement. He threw his head back and groaned her name.
‘Grace…!’ His release was a violent explosion of passion, and for long moments afterwards he remained within her, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress as tremors shook his big body. Grace didn’t mind, she loved the feeling of oneness, of two hearts beating in unison, and she gave a soft murmur of protest when he eventually rolled away and lay stiffly beside her.
Her eyelids drifted down and she snuggled close to him, absorbing the comforting warmth from his body. Her hand crept across his chest and she stroked her fingers through the covering of wiry black hairs before her movements stilled and she slept.
Javier glanced down at her lovely face and felt his heart clench. Any minute now he would slide off the bed and leave her alone to sleep, he promised himself. After his childhood experiences of rejection, he had no patience for the obligatory cuddling and other signs of affection that women seemed to want after sex.
But Grace’s small hand, curled over his heart, comforted rather than irritated him. He didn’t want to break the contact—in fact he wanted to put his arms around her and draw her in as close as he possibly could. Fortunately his iron willpower controlled the urge, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her any more than he could prevent himself from brushing his lips across her brow in a gentle benediction before he permitted himself the pleasure of watching her sleep.
In winter the mountain peaks of the Sierra Nevada were covered in snow, but inside El Castillo de Leon huge, blazing fires ensured that every room was warm. It was another three weeks until Christmas, but already the party season was underway, and tonight the Duque de Herrera was playing host at a lavish dinner for local businessmen and dignitaries from Granada.
The past months had been the happiest of her life, Grace mused as she prepared for the party. Since Javier had made her his wife in the real sense of the word, they hadn’t spent a single night apart. He made love to her with a single-minded dedication that caused her muscles to ache pleasurably the next day and put a permanent smile on her face.
But overshadowing her happiness was the knowledge that time was running out. Her marriage contract was already nearly half over, and six months from now Javier would ensure his place as head of El Banco de Herrera before arranging a quick divorce. Despite their incredible sex life, Grace was under no illusions that he would want their relationship to continue. Every night he took her body with a fierce passion, but afterwards he would roll over to his side of the bed, denying her the closeness she craved.
She was beginning to feel like a sex machine, but on the few occasions that she had steeled herself to resist him he had used the mastery of his hands and mouth to devastating effect—taking her to the edge of ecstasy time and time again, but denying her the satisfaction of his full possession until she was forced to beg. At times like that she almost hated him, but hated hersel
f more. Her inner battles had caused her so much misery that in the end she’d simply given in and settled for the only thing he offered her—mind-blowing sex.
The only time he showed her affection was during the day, and presumably his passionate kisses were for the benefit of his staff—continuing the façade that they were a blissfully happy couple. But, weak, pathetic fool that she was, she couldn’t resist him, and as she studied her reflection in the mirror she knew that the glow of excitement on her cheeks was because tonight at the party he would dance with her and hold her close in the way she longed to be held.
A slight movement from the doorway caught her attention, and she held her breath when he walked towards her until his reflection joined hers in the dressing-table mirror.
‘You look…exquisite,’ he said roughly after long moments when his eyes trailed over her in frank appraisal, taking in every dip and curve of her slender figure in her floor-length velvet ball-gown.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her eyes locked with his in the mirror, and she felt a shiver of feminine pleasure at the flare of hunger in his gaze. Her dress was a dark red-wine colour with a full skirt, tight sleeves and fitted low-cut bodice that was cleverly designed to make the most of her small breasts, pushing them up so that they spilled provocatively above the plush velvet. It was a sensuous dress, made for seduction, and she knew Javier was imagining untying the laces that secured the bodice so that he could cradle her breasts in his hands.
‘How long do you expect the party to go on for?’ she queried huskily, and watched as his mouth curved into a devastating smile.
‘Too long,’ he growled. She had the feeling that he was waging an inner battle with himself, but suddenly his tension broke and to her surprise he slid his arms around her and dipped his head to press hot, desperate kisses along her collarbone. ‘I want you now, as I’m sure you are aware,’ he added desperately as the throbbing length of his erection pushed tantalisingly against her bottom.
‘I wonder what’s going on inside your head, behind that serene smile?’ he muttered. ‘What would you do, my little grey dove, if I threw you down onto the bed, pushed up your skirt and took you, hard and fast, the way I know you like it?’
‘I’d say wait until later—I don’t want you to ruin my dress.’ She gave him an impish smile and watched as some indefinable emotion briefly flared in his eyes before his lashes fell, concealing his thoughts.
‘I suppose you’re right. And, speaking of your dress, I have something for you.’ He extracted a slim leather case from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
‘What is it?’ Grace asked.
‘Open it and see.’ He smiled when her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and he heard her gasp as she stared down at the ruby-and-diamond necklace suspended on a long gold chain.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But you can’t give me this. It must be worth a fortune.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my wife—I can give you anything I like.’ He lifted the stunning pendant from its box and placed it around her neck so that the ruby settled between her breasts. ‘It matches your dress perfectly,’ he said with a note of satisfaction.
‘But Javier…’ Grace broke off and stared at the precious jewel that lay cold and heavy on her skin. ‘I can’t keep it. I’ll have it on loan and return it to you when I go.’
‘When you go where?’ he queried idly. He flicked a glance at his watch and strolled towards the door, indicating that it was time they went downstairs to greet their guests.
‘When I go home—a-after our divorce,’ Grace stammered, swallowing the sudden tears that clogged her throat at the mere thought of leaving him.
Javier stiffened, his face an inscrutable mask of chiselled perfection that left no clue to his thoughts. ‘We’ll worry about it then,’ he said sharply. ‘I bought it because I thought you’d like it, but you’ll wear it even if you don’t. You are the Duquesa de Herrera, and in front of my guests I expect you to look and act the part.’
It hadn’t been an auspicious start to the evening, Grace acknowledged miserably some hours later, when the five-course dinner was finally over and coffee and liqueurs were being served in the salon. As far as the guests were concerned, Javier appeared to be a devoted husband—only she knew that his tender expression disguised the coldness in his eyes when he smiled at her. His role as host meant that he had a perfect excuse to talk to everyone bar her, and he had spent much of the meal flirting with the vivacious blonde seated on one side of him and Lucita Vasquez on the other.
Not that she cared, Grace told herself fiercely. Throughout dinner the queasiness that had plagued her for the past few days had returned, and her brow pleated into a frown at the untimely reminder of her secret worry. Her period was late—only by a few days, but late enough for her to panic.
She couldn’t be pregnant—it was impossible, she tried to reassure herself, feeling her stomach rebel as the smell of strong coffee assailed her senses. Javier had used protection every time he’d made love to her—well, almost every time. There had been a few occasions when he hadn’t had a condom to hand, like the time he’d laid her down on the grass and made love to her beneath the moonlight—or more recently when he had shared her shower and insisted on soaping every inch of her body until desire had overwhelmed them and he had taken her with a wild, primitive passion that had shocked and enthralled her.
Could those few careless moments of pleasure have resulted in her conceiving Javier’s child? A tremor ran through her, a mixture of fear and incredulous joy, as for a few seconds she imagined cradling his baby in her arms. Reality swiftly intruded. What would Javier think? It was safe to say that a child had not been part of his game plan, she realised bleakly. Her heart gave a tiny flutter of hope—maybe he would be pleased?
‘Are you feeling unwell, Grace? You look even paler than usual,’ Lucita Vasquez commented as she slid into the space on the small sofa next to Grace.
‘I’m fine, just a little nauseous, that’s all,’ Grace replied, pushing her coffee cup to the far side of the table. ‘Too much rich food, I’m afraid,’ she added when Lucita studied her speculatively. The young Spanish girl looked ravishing with her silky black curls dancing on her shoulders and her voluptuous curves emphasised by the clingy material of her white dress. With her huge gold hoop earrings and bangles on her wrist she looked both elegant and sexy, and a lot older than her teenage years.
She stared at Grace for a few moments, her black eyes gleaming before she gave a tight smile. ‘Rich food?’ she taunted softly ‘I don’t think so. My sister has three children, and she couldn’t bear the smell of coffee during her pregnancies. Perhaps there’s another reason for your pale complexion.’
Grace took a sharp breath but found that she couldn’t meet the younger woman’s knowing gaze. ‘I could be wrong, it’s not confirmed,’ she muttered. But even as she spoke the words she knew—with a feminine instinct as old as time—that she was pregnant.
‘So, Javier’s plan has worked,’ Lucita hissed, her pretty face suddenly as sharp as a weasel. ‘I must hand it to him—getting himself a wife and an heir within the allotted year is quite an achievement, even for a stallion like him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Grace demanded as an inexplicable feeling of dread coiled in her stomach. ‘You know nothing about my marriage.’
‘I know everything,’ Lucita stated confidently. ‘I know Javier only married you to secure his position as head of El Banco de Herrera, and I also know that he decided to use the year that he was saddled with a wife to fulfil the terms of his grandfather’s will and father the next Herrera heir.’
For a few horrific seconds the room swayed and Grace gripped the edge of the table. She couldn’t faint—not now, in front of Lucita’s mocking gaze. She licked her parched lips and stared at the other girl, noting the gleam of triumph in her black eyes. ‘Who told you?’ she whispered, aware that continuing with the pretence of a happy bride was futile when Luci
ta was so cock-sure of herself. ‘Was it Javier?’ she demanded, feeling sick to her stomach when the girl merely smiled knowingly.
‘Never mind, Grace, Javier won’t file for divorce until after you’ve given birth to his baby,’ Lucita drawled. ‘Naturally, he’ll insist that the child lives with him at El Castillo de Leon, but I’m sure he’ll allow you to visit from time to time.’
Grace stumbled to her feet, suddenly desperate to escape from Lucita’s spiteful tongue. ‘Nothing will ever separate me from my child, do you hear me? Nothing! Why are you telling me all this anyway? You’re delusional if you think Javier will ever turn to you. He could have married you and claimed control of your father’s bank as well El Banco de Herrera, but he considered you too young.’
Lucita’s lips thinned but she replied coolly, ‘That’s right. We planned to wait a few years, until I’d finished my education. But under the terms of Carlos’s will Javier had to marry immediately. That’s the only reason he chose you.’
Grace couldn’t deny the intrinsic truth of the Spanish girl’s statement and, not trusting herself to make any further comment, she hurried across the room towards the French doors, in desperate need of fresh air. It wasn’t true, she told herself over and over again—Javier could be ruthless when he wanted his own way, but he would never have deliberately made love to her without protection to ensure that she conceived his child.
But he had purposefully withheld knowledge of the clause in his grandfather’s will that demanded he produce an heir, she acknowledged bleakly. Instinctively her hands moved to her stomach. He wasn’t a cruel man—he had shown her kindness and consideration as well as passion during the first half of their marriage. Had it all been a ploy to lull her into a false sense of security before he demanded custody of her baby?
Lucita had to be lying, she thought feverishly. The man she had fallen in love with wasn’t capable of such callous behaviour. There was only one way that she could settle her fears, and that was to ask him outright if there had been an additional clause in Carlos’s will—before she told him of her suspicions that she was pregnant.
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