Loren was unfamiliar with the building they now approached. A cluster of paparazzi was waiting at the entrance. Of fairly recent style, it was a large sprawling construction set in lush gardens and toward the back she caught a glimpse of what looked like playing fields. Was this some kind of school? She wondered what del Castillo family tradition called for a bride and groom to visit a school the morning after their wedding.
She recognized the family coat of arms carved into the lintel above the door but aside from that one claim of ownership there was nothing about the building to tell her of its purpose. At least not until they set foot inside. Muffled giggles and shushing sounds came from behind closed doors.
Children? At school on a weekend?
Alex laced his fingers through hers and Loren closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to quell the sudden surge of electricity that flared across her skin at his touch. The double doors ahead of them opened and, as they walked into what appeared to be a small auditorium followed closely by the media contingent, the air filled with the sound of children’s voices in song.
Loren couldn’t hold back a smile as the pure notes swirled joyfully around them.
“Who are they?” she whispered to Alex.
“Orphans, for the most part. Some are from families who cannot afford to feed and clothe them. They are the lucky ones for at least they have someone.”
As the song drew to a close, one little girl separated from the bunch. In her hands she clutched a colorful bouquet of flowers. The caregiver behind her gave an encouraging little push in Loren’s direction, but as the child drew closer a barrage of camera flashes filled the air and she tripped and started to fall forward. Loren reached out and caught the little girl before she could face-plant on the hard wooden floor. Some of the flowers, however, did not fare as well and when the child saw their snapped-off heads her lower lip began to wobble.
“Are these for me?” Loren asked, setting the child on her feet and kneeling down in front of her, ignoring the rapid-fire clicks and whirs of the shutters of the cameras trained on them.
The girl nodded shyly, one tear spilling from her lower lid and tracking slowly down a chubby cheek.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” Loren bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. “And look, here’s a flower just for you.”
Placing the bouquet gently on the floor beside her, Loren pinched off one of the damaged blooms and tucked it behind the little girl’s ear, securing it there with one of the pins from her own hair.
With both disaster, and further tears, averted, the little girl happily scampered back to her group.
“Nicely done,” Alex murmured in her ear as he helped Loren rise to her feet.
She hoped he didn’t see how his praise affected her, and that he missed the fine tremor that shook the bouquet she now held in her hands as if it was her most precious possession.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully as she and Alex shared tea with the children and sat through a delightful series of performances. They were then led on a tour of the orphanage and Loren felt her heart break as she was shown the nurseries and the babies there. Under Alex’s silent gaze, she took the time to cuddle each one and spent several minutes discussing their welfare with the nurses charged with their care.
By the time they took their leave and got back into his car Loren was shattered. Her arms still ached to hold the parentless children, as if by doing so she could somehow alleviate the harsh blow life had dealt them.
“You did well,” Alex commented as they pulled away.
“It was nothing. I adore children, I always have.”
“Especially the very young ones.”
“Yes, especially them. They’ve had little opportunity to know love and of anyone they probably deserve it the most.” Loren sighed and gently stroked the petals on the now rather tired-looking bouquet she’d been given. “What happens to them?”
“The babies or all the children?”
“All of them.”
“Those that can be, are fostered with families on the island. We try and keep extended family involved wherever possible. Sometimes that’s not an option, however. Others, like the babies and the toddlers, are usually adopted within months of their arrival at the orphanage. For the ones who remain, they are provided with schooling and, given their aptitude, they have the opportunity to earn scholarships to train in their chosen fields. Of the nurses and teachers there, at least half are returning children.”
Loren nodded. She could understand why. The atmosphere there had been one of a strong sense of community and home, as far as they could manage on such a scale.
“Does the orphanage have a patron?”
“Not officially, not since my mother died. It has always traditionally been a del Castillo bride who becomes the orphanage’s patroness. Between Abuelo and myself we have done what we can but some things definitely require a woman’s touch.”
“I’d like to take that on.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I know that. But I want to, if that’s okay.”
Loren turned to look at Alex and saw him nod slowly.
“Then it looks as if tradition will live on, hmm?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “It will.”
Loren noticed they were now driving away from the city but not toward the castillo.
“Are we expected somewhere else today?”
“Yes,” Alex responded, his eyes on the road ahead.
“Well, are you going to tell me where?” Loren demanded, suddenly feeling decidedly snippy.
The emotional toll of the orphanage visit, on top of the demands of their wedding day only yesterday and the distress of last night were all making themselves felt. She wanted nothing more right now than some peace and quiet.
“Look, I’m not up to any more of your cloak-and-dagger stuff. If you won’t say where we’re going you may as well let me out of the car right now and I’ll find my own way home.”
Alex still didn’t respond.
“Stop the car,” Loren demanded.
“We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
Loren looked around her but all she could see were fields and trees. Then, just in the distance, she caught sight of a series of domed buildings and a fluorescent wind sock on a tall pole.
“An airfield?” she asked. “Why are we going to an airfield?”
“Because our plane leaves in a short while.”
“Our plane?” Loren felt as if all she could do was dumbly question everything that came from Alex’s mouth.
“Yes, our plane.”
She clenched her fists in frustration. Getting information from him was like getting blood from a stone.
“And where would this plane be taking us?” she inquired acerbically, fighting the urge to shout.
“On our honeymoon, of course.”
Seven
“Honeymoon?”
Loren’s voice reached a pitch that should have made Alex’s ears ring. He turned to his new wife and smiled.
“It is usual for a newly married couple, and it is expected of us.”
“But my things?”
“Await you on the plane.”
“But what about…”
As Loren’s voice trailed off he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. She may have won the first round but this one was definitely his. Until her refusal of his attentions he would have been happy to remain at home on Isla Sagrado with her for their honeymoon as he’d originally planned. But she’d laid down a gauntlet when she’d spurned him last night. He was unaccustomed to anyone saying no to him—least of all the woman who had become his wife. He had serious ground to recover if this marriage was to work.
Her words had plagued him until dawn this morning, when he’d realized what he would have to do. It would be too easy for Loren to avoid him if they stayed at the castillo, or even if they’d gone to avail themselves of one of the luxury holiday homes on t
he other side of the island. No, he had to take her away, get her wholly to himself.
During their trip to the orphanage it was a simple matter to have her maid pack her things and have them delivered to the private airfield. Her passport and other papers were already in his possession, having been necessary for the legal paperwork of their marriage. A short call to a friend who owned a private holiday villa in Dubrovnik, a mere two-hour flight away on the Croatian coast of the Adriatic Sea, and his plan was in action. Only five minutes out of Dubrovnik old town, the two-bedroom stone cottage was a fifteenth-century delight. Private, fully modernized and the perfect setting for the seduction of his wife.
“Loren, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” She snorted inelegantly. “That’s rich, coming from the man who lied to marry me. The man who played on my own sense of values to get what he wanted.”
A burr of irritation settled under Alex’s skin, aimed more at himself than at her. He couldn’t deny that she was painfully right.
“And what did you want, mi querida?” he asked, not bothering to hold back the cynicism that laced his endearment. “Don’t tell me that you, for your own part, didn’t use me a little, also?”
“I never lied to you,” she answered quietly, her eyes impossibly somber as they met his.
For a few seconds the air between them thickened with the pain of the emotions he saw reflected in her gaze, and for a brief moment he tasted the bitterness of shame on his tongue. But he could not afford to dwell on his wrongdoing. They were now married and that was final. How successful would their marriage be? Well, that would no doubt depend on the next two weeks.
According to Loren’s doctor at the clinic, based on her normal cycle, she would be entering her most fertile time soon. If his plans remained on track there would be no need for the detached methods she’d insisted were the only way she’d get pregnant with his child.
“Come,” Alex said, getting out the car and going around to the passenger side to open her door. “The pilot is waiting.”
“Where are we going?”
Sensing she’d had enough of secrets, Alex didn’t beat around the bush. “Dubrovnik. We can be alone there.”
He felt her shrink away from him as the words sank in.
“I hope they have a good selection of reading material,” she commented tartly.
Alex laughed out loud, the humor in it startling even himself. If he knew his friend, any reading material would be eclectic and with a heavy emphasis on both cooking and eroticism. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get there.
The flight in the chartered jet was smooth and over within two hours, and it took very little time to clear customs and immigration. The midafternoon sun was bright and hot as they made their way to the waiting car outside the terminal building. Through it all, Loren maintained an icy silence. A silence that Alex looked forward to thawing, one icicle at a time.
* * *
The water in the little bay, fifty yards below where the cottage perched on the hillside, was a clear crystal blue. So clear you could even see the rocks and pebbles on the seafloor. Steps had been hewn from the rocky face leading down to the private beach. The cottage itself was a delight. Despite its aged appearance from the outside, Alex had been reassured to discover the interior was comfortably appointed and supplied with everything they would need for the duration of their stay.
He’d asked that the refrigerator-freezer and pantries all be fully stocked, and had stipulated that the cleaners were only to come when he could ensure they were away from the property. He wanted no interruptions to this idyll.
Loren was outside now, on the rear terrace, gazing out at the calm seas, a light breeze tugging at the severe hairdo she’d worn since this morning. Alex’s fingers itched to take her hair down and to see her relax. As tense as she was now it would take days for her to unwind. He left the narrow kitchen area and walked across the tiled open-plan living area to where she stood.
“How about a swim before we have an early dinner?” he asked, coming out onto the terrace.
“An early dinner and bed sounds good to me.”
“What, not game to tackle the steps?” Alex teased, reaching out a hand to caress her bare shoulder.
She stepped out of reach and sighed. “No, Alex, I’m not game to tackle the steps. In fact I’m not game for anything right now but something to eat and a decent night’s sleep.”
He gave her a thorough look. She did indeed look washed-out, with the pale strain of tiredness about her eyes more visible now than earlier. He gave a small nod.
“Okay,” he said softly. “It’s been a busy couple of days. Why don’t you shower and change into something comfortable and I’ll prepare something for us to eat.”
“What? You? Cook?”
Ah, so she was not so tired that she couldn’t insult him. That at least was mildly promising.
“I cook very well, as you’ll soon discover. Now, you’ll find the bedrooms downstairs. If you don’t like the one where your cases are, we can swap.”
Her eyes widened. “We have separate rooms?”
“Of course. Separate rooms, separate bathrooms. Unless, of course, you’d rather share?”
“No! I mean, no, that’s fine. I thought…”
Alex knew exactly what she thought, but he was prepared to bide his time.
“Go on. Freshen up. Take your time, hmm? I want to shower and change myself before starting our meal.”
He watched as she walked back inside the cottage and made for the stairs that led to the two bedrooms on the lower level. Yes, he was prepared to bide his time—for now. But he would not wait forever for his recalcitrant bride to accept the very real attraction that lay between them, nor the pleasure he was certain they would find together when she did.
* * *
“Loren, wake up. Dinner is ready.”
Alex’s voice pierced the uneasy slumber Loren had fallen into after taking her shower. The wide expanse of bed, with its pale blue coverlet and fresh cotton pillow slips, had proven too much of an enticement. She stretched as she stirred, forcing her eyes open.
The sun was much lower in the sky now, its light sparkling across the water visible through the floor-length windows like a thousand diamonds skipping across the waves.
Loren pushed herself upright, then snatched at her robe as she felt it slide away from her, exposing her nakedness beneath.
“If you’ll give me five minutes, I’ll be with you,” she said as coolly as she could, hyperconscious of the hot flare of interest in Alex’s dark eyes as she gathered the fine silk about her.
His lips had parted, as if he was about to say something but the words had frozen on his tongue. His stare intensified, dropping to the pinpoints of her nipples where they peaked against the soft blush-colored fabric. Her breath caught in her throat, she could almost feel his gaze as if it was a touch against her skin.
She shifted on the bed, untangling her legs and pushing them over the side of the mattress, the movement making her robe slide across her nakedness like a caress. Heat built everywhere—her cheeks, her chest and deeper darker places she didn’t want to acknowledge with Alex standing there, staring hungrily at her as if she was to be his appetizer before the evening meal.
“Alex?” Loren asked, finally getting to her feet and welcoming the feel of her robe settling like a cloak about her, hiding her.
“Okay, five minutes. Come out onto the terrace.”
He pushed one hand through his hair, the vulnerability of that action striking her square in the chest, before turning for the staircase leading back up to the main floor. Loren took a steadying breath. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but weariness had dragged at every inch of her body. To be woken by him had reminded her starkly of the day she’d arrived at the castillo. Of how he’d kissed the palm of her hand, of how she’d believed their marriage to be so full of promise at that moment.
Even now, her body still thrummed in reaction t
o Alex’s presence, and he hadn’t so much as touched her this time. It had only been a look, but it had set her senses on fire despite how angry she was with both him and herself for the debacle they now found themselves in.
Coming here had been a terrible idea. She should have resisted. Should have demanded he take her back to the castillo. She could have avoided him there for most of the time at least. Thrown herself into her duties as patroness of the orphanage. Something. Anything but time in this isolated beauty alone together.
Loren spun on her bare foot and skittered across the floor to where she’d found her suitcase. She hadn’t bothered to check its contents before her shower, only grabbing at the first thing she could find at the time, her robe. But now she wondered just what she had to wear. She certainly hoped her maid had covered all possibilities.
She flipped open the lid of the case and rummaged through the layers of swimwear with matching wraps and night wear Bella had packed for her, tossing it all to one side. Finally, thankfully, her fingers closed around some basic cotton T-shirts. Loren lifted them out and put them on the bed behind her before searching through her case again. A small gasp of relief escaped her as she found a batik wraparound skirt her mother had brought back for her from Indonesia a couple of years ago.
All she needed now was clean underwear. Loren pulled open a drawer of the dresser in her room and swiftly put away the things she’d already taken from the case, then methodically unpacked the rest—her frustration rising by degrees until the case was completely empty.
What on earth had her maid been thinking? No underwear? Not even a pair of cotton panties? She prayed that Bella had perhaps run out of room in her case and had packed her underthings with Alex’s, but a rapid check of his room showed no sign of anything of hers.
The chime of a clock upstairs reminded her that she’d told Alex she’d only be five minutes. Sliding her robe off, Loren picked up the underwear she’d worn all day. The idea of wearing them again, against clean skin, just felt wrong. She’d have to make sure she rinsed them out before bed tonight and bought some more lingerie tomorrow.
The Tycoon's Charm: The Tycoon's Paternity AgendaHonor-Bound Groom Page 24