by Trish Morey
His dark eyes searched hers, his chin set, the tendons on his neck standing out in thick cords. ‘What kind of game are you playing? Why are you really here?’
She might have told him if she thought he might actually listen. ‘Look, there’s no point going on with this. Let me go now and I promise never to darken your door again. Maybe there’s even a slight chance we might forget this unfortunate event ever took place.’
‘Forget a scrawny slip of a girl I’ve never met asking me to marry her? Forget a proposal of marriage that comes dressed in barbs and insults from a woman who, by her own admission, wishes there was some other way? I don’t think I’m going to forget that in a hurry. Not when she hasn’t even explained why.’
‘Is there any point? I’d say you made your position crystal clear. Obviously there’s no way you’d lower yourself to marry “a scrawny slip of a girl”.’
Her eyes flashed cold fire as she spat his words back at him, anger mixed with hurt. She was smarting at his insult, he could tell, and maybe she had a point. Maybe she was more petite than scrawny, though it was hard to tell, her body buried under a chain-store cotton skirt and top that left everything to the imagination. But she was no mere girl. Because, from his vantage point above her he could see the slight swell of her breasts as her chest rose and fell. This close he could see her eyes were more blue than grey, the colour of early morning sky before the sun burned away the mist from the hillsides. And this close he could smell her scent, a mix of honey and sunshine and feminine awareness, the unmistakable scent of a woman who was turned on.
His body responded the only way it knew how, surprising him, because she was nothing like his usual type of woman and he wasn’t interested. If he had been interested he would have known it the moment he’d opened the door and laid eyes on her, the way it usually worked.
And once again he regretted the sudden absence of Bianca. Clearly it had been too long if he was getting horny over any random big-eyed waif who turned up on his doorstep. He willed the growing stiffness away, his decision not to put any clothes on intended more to amuse himself rather than any attempt at seduction. And then his eyes drifted down again, lingering over the spot where the neckline gaped, exposing skin that looked like satin.
Admittedly a big-eyed waif with unexpected curves …
‘Then again, maybe not so scrawny,’ he said, unable to resist putting a hand to her shoulder in spite of the fact he wasn’t really interested, his thumb testing the texture of her skin, finding it as smooth as his vision had promised.
She shivered under his touch, her blue eyes wide, her bottom lip trembling, right before she shot away sideways. ‘Don’t touch me!’
He turned, amused by his unexpected visitor and her propensity to move from flight to fight and back again in a heartbeat. ‘What is this? You ask me to marry you and then say I can’t touch? Surely you must have come prepared for an audition.’
She wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. ‘No! There will be no audition! The marriage is for Felipe. Only for Felipe.’ Outside the windows the light was starting to fade, the afternoon sun slipping away, while inside her cheeks were lit up, her eyes flashed cold blue flame and her hands were balled in fists so tight that, unlike the rest of her, her knuckles showed white. ‘Haven’t you got a robe or something?’
He smiled at the sudden change in topic, holding his arms out by his sides innocently. ‘Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing?’
‘That’s just it. You’re not really wearing anything.’ She paused suddenly, biting her lip, almost as if she’d said too much and revealed too much of herself in the process. Then she hastily added, ‘I’d hate for you to catch cold or something.’
As if that was her reason. His amusement was growing by the minute, his visitor unexpectedly entertaining. It wasn’t just because the idea was so crazy he wondered how this woman, who seemed more timid than tigress despite her attempts, had found the courage to carry it off, but maybe because his mother had been here not an hour ago berating him on his reluctance to find a wife. He half wished she’d been here to witness this. Though no doubt she would be more appalled than amused, but then, that thought only amused him even more.
‘Then you will be relieved to know I have a very healthy constitution,’ he said, ‘but the last thing I wish is for you to feel uncomfortable.’ He excused himself for a moment to pull on fresh clothes, though not so much for her comfort level but because it suited him to do so. He’d had his sport and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was interested in her sexually. He was intrigued, it was true, and now that the shock of her surprise proposal was over, he was curious to hear more, but there was no point encouraging her.
She was still here. Simone let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and turned to gaze out of the windows over the million euro view. He hadn’t thrown her out and neither had he let her flee. She was still here and he was going to cover himself up.
Surely that counted as success on two counts?
And now, for whatever reason, he actually seemed willing to listen to her.
Even better, maybe once he had covered up that chest and all that toned olive-gold skin, she might even be able to think straight. She could only hope. Being forced to look at all that masculine perfection without actually looking like she was looking at it was one hell of a distraction otherwise. When he’d had her backed against the door and touched his fingers to her shoulder, she’d felt the sizzle shoot straight to her core. Although maybe it was the hungry look in his eyes that had turned his touch electric …
God, what must it be like to be a woman who actually wanted him to touch her? She shivered, her body remembering the electric thrill. Dangerous, she thought, definitely dangerous. Thank God she wasn’t going there.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting.’
His richly accented voice stroked its way down her spine, almost convincing her that he meant every word he said. She turned to find him dressed not in a robe, as she’d been half-expecting, but in light-coloured trousers and a fine knitted top that skimmed over the wall of his chest in a way she really didn’t want to think too much about. So she pushed her wayward hair behind her ears and looked elsewhere and found his feet instead. ‘Nice shoes,’ she said lamely, for want of anything better to say.
He glanced down at his leather loafers. ‘I have a man who makes them for me. He is very good.’
Handmade shoes, she pondered, really studying them this time, wishing she could hide away her own scuffed ballet flats. She’d known he had money, sure, but what was this world she’d dared enter, a world where he probably spent more on a pair of shoes than she had on her entire wardrobe? And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t know that. It was a wonder he hadn’t let her flee while he’d had the chance. It was a wonder he hadn’t slammed the door in her face.
‘But you didn’t come here to compliment me on my footwear,’ he prompted, gesturing towards a sofa as he sprawled himself into a wide armchair, ‘I am curious to hear more—a marriage between you and me, but for Felipe? How does that work, exactly?’
She lowered herself down tentatively on the edge of the sofa, her heart racing with the possibilities. He wanted to hear more. Was he was simply curious, as he claimed, or was he actually entertaining her proposal? ‘You really want to know? You won’t laugh this time?’
‘You took me by surprise,’ he admitted with a shrug. ‘It is not everyday a woman asks me to marry her while at the same time claiming she would rather be torn apart by wild horses or eaten by sharks.’
She pressed her lips together, not bothering to deny she’d used those words, knowing he was poking fun at her and yet thoroughly disconcerted by his smile. He was good-looking even when he was angry, the strong lines of his face too well put together to be distorted by rage, but when he smiled he was absolutely devastating. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not every day that I ask a man to marry me.’
He nodded. ‘I’m flattered,’ he said
, sounding anything but. ‘So tell me, what is this marriage all about? Why is it so necessary, you believe, to marry me? What are you trying to achieve?’
‘I want to make Felipe’s last days happy.’
‘You think you will make him happy by marrying the son of a man he was in dispute with almost his entire life?’
‘I believe it will make him happy to believe his vineyard is reunited.’ And when she saw her words made no impact on him, she continued, more passionately, this time. ‘Don’t you see, those vines you bought were Felipe’s life. And right now every time he looks out of his window he’s reminded of his mistake. Every time he looks out of his window, he’s reminded of all that he lost.’ She shook her head. ‘And right now he doesn’t care about the remaining vines. He doesn’t care about anything.’ She gazed up at him, wanting to make him understand. Desperate to make him understand. ‘I know it sounds mad, but if he could see a marriage between our families, he would also see the vineyard reunited, and whatever mistakes he made—well, they wouldn’t matter any more. He might smile again, if he realised that all was not lost.’
‘And so Felipe dies happy.’
She winced at his words and he found himself wondering if she was acting. How could she care so much about a man who must be almost a stranger to her? ‘It would only be for a few months. The doctors said—’
‘You told me.’ He stood suddenly and wandered to the windows, his back to her. ‘Six to twelve months. But why should I believe what you say? It seems to me that you have the most to gain out of this arrangement. How do I know you won’t try to get pregnant and find yet another reason to “reunite” our families, this time on a more permanent basis?’
He thought her capable of doing that? God, what kind of people was he used to dealing with? She gave a tight shake of her head, feeling sick at the thought of there being any chance a pregnancy would result from this union. ‘There is no chance of that. This would be purely a business arrangement. Nothing more.’
‘So you say, but how can I believe you?’
‘Quite easily.’ She looked at him levelly, her blue-grey eyes as cold as the deepest sea. ‘There will be no pregnancy because there will be no sex.’
He looked back at her over his shoulder in surprise, one eyebrow arched. ‘No sex? You really think a marriage can work without sex?’
‘Why not? It’s not a real marriage so there’s no need for sex. What I’m proposing is a marriage in name only. Besides, it’s not as if we even like each other. We barely even know each other, for that matter. Why would we need or even want to have sex?’
He shrugged aside every one of her objections as irrelevant. He’d never actually considered whether he actually liked someone as a barrier to having sex with them. Then again, from what he could ascertain, his father hadn’t slept with his mother for the last thirty years of their marriage, which proved marriage without sex between husband and wife was possible, even if his father hadn’t gone without, by all accounts.
Which was probably a point worth making …
‘If I agreed to this marriage,’ he said, pausing when he noticed the sudden flare in her eyes and wanting to damp it down before she got too excited, ‘that’s if I agree, and I agreed to your condition of a marriage in name only, you do understand that there will be other women? That I would need to have sex with someone.’
Her lips tightened. Her entire posture tightened. ‘I’m sure you have no shortage of friends and acquaintances who would be only too happy to accommodate your needs. I wouldn’t stand in your way, so long as you were discreet, of course.’
He stroked his chin thoughtfully and her eyes were drawn again to the strong lines of his face, the dramatic planes and dark-as-night eyes and wished his features weren’t anywhere near as well put together. ‘Then possibly it might work,’ he said, ‘And possibly you are also right about not having sex. It’s not as if you’re my type, after all.’
‘Fine!’ she snapped, her eyes wide, her cheeks flaring with colour. ‘So much the better!’
‘Bueno,’ he said, smiling at her snippy response because, for her all her eagerness to announce that she had no interest in having sex with him, it was clear she didn’t want to hear the reasons why he might not be interested in having sex with her. ‘So long as we understand each other. As you’ve mentioned, we don’t know how long such a marriage might last. Several months. A year. You couldn’t expect me to remain celibate for the duration.’
‘I would hate you to have to suppress your natural desires, although perhaps you might try exercising just a little more control.’
‘Why should I? I like sex.’
‘I don’t want to hear it! All I know is that if you agree to this, there will be no sex between us. So there will be no chance of a child. So there can be no “complications”.’
He sighed as he turned back towards the window, the light fading from the sky, the lighting around the Bay coming on, turning the shoreline to gold. Perhaps she was right. Without sex there could be no unwanted pregnancy. No complications, just as she said. Which meant no chance for her to claim against the Esquivel estate.
And meanwhile this marriage would get his mother off his back into the deal.
He almost laughed. There would be no point in Ezmerelda continuing to wait for him to propose because he’d already be married. It was utterly delicious. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been tempted by such a crazy deal. But would anyone believe it? Would anyone actually believe that, of all the women in the world, he had chosen this particular one to marry? Because he hadn’t been joking. She was nothing like his usual kind of woman. He preferred his woman more overtly sexual, whereas this woman looked like a waif in her baggy clothes.
And even though there was something about her cool blue eyes and her husky voice, and there was something of feminine shape hidden away that he’d caught a glimpse of, if he was to agree to anything, the terms would definitely need some work. He would need a bit more of an incentive if he was going to bother to make their arrangement look convincing.
‘It’s very noble of you, sacrificing yourself on the altar of marriage for your grandfather’s benefit. But why should I go along with it? What would be in it for me, given you’ve ruled out sex?’
She blinked up at him and he could tell she was completely unprepared for the question. He wondered at her naivety. Did she imagine he would go along with this out of the goodness of his heart? ‘Well,’ she began, ‘you do now have most of Felipe’s vineyard.’
‘I told you, I bought that land, fair and square. That land is mine already.’
‘But you knew how he’d lost it. You took advantage of an old man’s misfortune because it suited you.’
‘If I hadn’t bought it, someone else would have.’
‘But you’re the one who bought it and don’t tell me you didn’t jump at the chance. Felipe told me your father had been trying to get him off his land for decades.’
‘And you think that my agreeing to this will ease my conscience over the fact a large chunk of his estate is now mine?’ He shook his head. ‘No, my conscience is clear. I don’t have any trouble sleeping at night. In which case, you’re offering me nothing. And if I’m going to agree to this, I need a real incentive.’
Her heart jumped in her chest. ‘If I’m going to agree to this’? Was he serious? Was she that close to getting him to agree to her crazy plan? She licked her lips. ‘So what would it take to secure your agreement?’ she asked tentatively, almost afraid to breathe as she waited for his response.
‘Am I right in thinking Felipe will leave the balance of the estate to you, as his sole beneficiary?’
She blinked. ‘Um, yes, he still has to see a lawyer to change his will, but he’s mentioned that’s what he wants to do.’
‘Then that’s my price. When Felipe dies and you inherit, I want you to agree that you’ll sign over the rest of the estate to me.’
‘All of it?’
‘There’s not a who
le lot left—and you do want me to marry you, don’t you, so Felipe believes his precious vines are reunited once more?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then, subject to your final agreement of my terms, I’d say that makes us officially engaged.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WHAT’S IT TO BE, my prospective wife? You decide. Do we have a deal?’
Did they? Her heart was hammering so loud she could scarcely hear herself think. Half of her was already celebrating. She’d done the unthinkable and secured Alesander’s agreement. Soon Felipe would see his precious vines reunited under the mantle of their marriage.
But after he was gone—after their marriage was dissolved—they would stay reunited. Alesander would own the entire estate.
He was waiting for her answer, his half-smile telling her that he was already anticipating her agreement.
Should she accept his terms?
Felipe had promised her what was left of the estate when he died, wanting the vines to stay in the family, wanting to ensure that she would be taken care of financially. After her spendthrift parents had left her with nothing but a few trinkets, it would have been all that she owned. And now, if she agreed to Alesander’s terms, she’d be left with nothing again.
But what good were the vines to her anyway when her plan had always been to return to her studies in Melbourne? What point was there in her keeping them, other than as a link to a past and a life she’d been denied most of her life? She didn’t belong here. Not really. She was no vigneron, whatever her heritage. She couldn’t even speak the language. Not properly. ‘All right,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper, knowing that ultimately she had no choice. ‘You have a deal.’
‘Good, I’ll get my lawyers to draft up the agreement.’
‘This can’t get out! Felipe must not suspect.’