Honor-Bound Groom

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Honor-Bound Groom Page 8

by Yvonne Lindsay


  “No. I am refusing you my body.”

  Six

  Loren barely dared draw breath.

  Alex stood before her, magnificent in his anger. Were she less determined about her decision she would have quailed in the face of his fury. To be honest, were she less determined she would have given in to the rush of longing that had drawn through her body like a fine silken thread as he’d touched her.

  All her life she’d waited for the day that Alex would turn to her and welcome her into his life, and into his arms. Too bad that when that day had finally come she’d been forced to spurn him. She had never believed it would matter so much to her that he had hidden from her his true reasons for entering into their marriage.

  In the lead-up to the wedding it had been enough for her to believe, however misguidedly, that they stood a chance of making their marriage work. But in the stark face of what she’d learned today, it was clear that Alex hadn’t been above using her to get what he wanted. That it was for his family didn’t assuage the hurt deep inside her. Nor the anger she bore at herself for having been such a blind and love-struck fool where Alex was concerned.

  That she loved Alex with a passion that went soul deep was undeniable. But now she realized it most definitely wasn’t enough. In her naïveté she’d thought she could change his perception of her as a child to that of a woman. A woman capable of great passion and unswerving loyalty.

  Clearly she was still that naive child to have thought she could make a difference—make him begin to love her. He’d taken advantage of the promise made between her father and his and, shamefully, she’d let him. She was no innocent in this. She should have known and understood what was at stake. She should have asked questions, demanded answers.

  But, no. She’d been focused on fulfilling a childhood dream. Of returning to the land of her birth and of being his bride. She’d allowed herself to be duped—heck, allowed? She’d been a fully willing participant into a marriage that stood no chance of being real right from the beginning.

  Well, now he had his bride. He had his baby-making machine. That didn’t mean she needed to debase herself any further by pandering to his machinations. Whatever the scheme he’d hatched with his brothers, she would do no more than her duty. She would give him the baby he required, but she’d find a way to live through this with what was left of her dignity intact.

  “I think you’d better leave,” she said, her voice breaking on the last words as she struggled to hold back the tremors that threatened to turn her into a quivering wreck.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her in silence.

  “P-please, Alex. Go.”

  “This is not over, Loren. I am not a man who likes to be thwarted.”

  Loren didn’t answer, instead turning her back even as her chest throbbed with the pain of rejecting him and her eyes burned with the tears she refused to shed in his presence. She had what was left of her pride and she would not let that go. Not for anything. Not for anyone. Not even the man she loved with every heart-wrenchingly pain-filled breath in her body.

  Behind her, Loren heard her chamber door close with a gentle sound. The fact he hadn’t slammed the door behind him spoke volumes to the measure of his control. Control he would no doubt have been exerting over her behind the filmy curtains of her pedestal bed right now, had she let him.

  Something twisted deep inside her, something sharp and raw, and her inner muscles clenched on the emptiness. She looked at the bed now and knew she would not sleep there tonight. She could not.

  Loren crossed to the deep-set casement window that had been flung open to the velvet night. Despite the warm night air that coursed past her to fill the room, Loren was suddenly beset by a chill that went to her very bones.

  Without a doubt spurning Alex tonight was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do in her life—the hardest decision she’d ever had to make.

  Her fingers gripped the age-old stone of the window ledge so tight they became numb, and she stared out at the night sky wishing things could have been so very different.

  The sound of gentle knocking at her bedroom door woke Loren from the fitful slumber she’d finally fallen into around dawn. She straightened from the chaise longue she’d eventually sought rest upon and quickly threw her pillows and the comforter back onto the bed. Everyone knew how servants gossiped and, despite their loyalty to the del Castillo family, the staff here were no different.

  She crossed the room to unlock the door and took a rapid step back when she saw it was not her maid, but Alex standing on the other side.

  “Buenos días, Loren. I trust you slept well?”

  He was absolutely the last person she expected to see this morning. She’d anticipated being totally left to her own devices after her rejection of him last night. Instead, here he was, looking and smelling divine. As if what had transpired between them had never happened. As if she’d never rejected him.

  “As charming as your nightgown is, you will need to change for our excursion today.”

  “Change?”

  “Of course, unless you want to be seen out and about Isla Sagrado in your night wear.”

  “We…we’re going out? I thought—”

  “Yes, I’m sure you thought that after last night I would not want to be near you. You underestimate me, Loren. We are newly married. We are expected to be seen together. Do you honestly believe that after everything I’ve put in place to make our marriage happen that I would just dissolve into the castle walls because you have decided we are not to sleep together?”

  There was a dangerous edge to his voice. A hint of a reined-in temper simmering just beneath the surface of his urbane exterior.

  “Of course not. I don’t know what I thought, to be honest.” Loren dragged in a breath, her senses instantly on alert as his fragrance infiltrated her confused mind and sent her pulse hammering in her veins. “When do you want me to be ready?”

  “Our first appointment is in about half an hour, near Puerto Seguro, so about five minutes ago would be ideal.”

  “Appointment?”

  “Yes, a tradition in my family when someone marries.”

  Thinking it was to be with the family lawyer, Loren spun away and yanked open her wardrobe, choosing a slim-fitting ice-blue suit. Her arm was stayed by Alex’s hand upon her. She couldn’t help it, she flinched, and didn’t miss the frown that descended over Alex’s features. He pointedly withdrew his hand from her bare skin before speaking.

  “That’s too formal. Wear something comfortable but smart.”

  Without any further information he spun on his heel and left her room. For a moment she just watched him. Her eyes drinking in the beauty of his movement, the breadth of his shoulders beneath the lightweight cream shirt he wore teamed with dark caramel-colored trousers. The way those trousers skimmed the cheeks of his buttocks.

  She forced herself to blink, to break the spell he’d unwittingly woven about her, enticing her. She shoved the suit back into the wardrobe and flicked through her hangers, finally settling upon a black sundress with an abstract white print patterned upon it, relieving the starkness of the background. A mid-heeled pair of strappy sandals would hopefully give the outfit just the right balance Alex had specified.

  Gathering her dress and a fistful of clean underwear, Loren swept into her bathroom. She wanted nothing more than to wash her hair but she doubted time would allow it. She swept its length into a shower cap and stepped beneath the stinging spray of the shower before the water had even reached temperature, gasping slightly against the cold.

  She reached for the shower gel and liberally lathered it over her body. Had things been different, she wondered, would it be Alex’s hands sliding over her skin now? Her nipples beaded into tight buds at the thought. Shaking her head at herself, Loren quickly rinsed off and stepped out of the shower cubicle and reached for a towel to dry off.

  It only took a moment to dress and spritz a light spray of perfume on her pulse points. Her
hair she brushed into a fiercely controlled ponytail, which she then braided and pinned in a spiral against the back of her head, all the while trying to forget how it had felt last night as Alex had brushed her hair. He’d shown her a tenderness she knew he’d have brought to his lovemaking—had she let things get that far.

  Her reflection, however, definitely gave her pause. The sleepless night had left dark shadows beneath her eyes. It would take everything she had in her cosmetic arsenal to restore some semblance of the dewy bride Isla Sagrado had seen yesterday.

  It took her a further ten minutes but by the time Loren met Alex in their communal sitting room she was satisfied that she could cope with anything the day brought.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as she checked her handbag for her sunglasses.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” Alex responded enigmatically.

  “What about breakfast?”

  “Breakfast was a couple of hours ago but there will be a morning tea where we are going. Can you wait until then?”

  Loren hazarded a look at her husband from under her lashes as she pretended to search in her bag for something else. Her husband! The solid truth of those two words rammed into her chest and clutched at her heart with a sudden twist. At her sharply indrawn breath, Alex gave her a look.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Fine, I’m fine,” Loren hastened to assure him. “And yes, I can wait for something to eat.”

  “Then we should be on our way.”

  He held the door to their suite open and escorted her along the wide corridor and down the sweeping stairs to the front entrance of the castillo. There, in the massive entrance hall, the staff had all assembled in a line, some bearing small gifts, others with nothing to give but the warmth in their hearts and the smiles on their faces.

  How could she have forgotten the age-old Sagradan custom? It was tradition that the staff celebrate the master’s marriage with offerings. On that occasion, the master and mistress of the property would also give the staff a small monetary gift.

  “Have you—” she started to ask in a whisper.

  “I have it under control,” Alex assured her as one by one they greeted the people who worked tirelessly behind the scenes in the castillo.

  As she went forward to accept each small gift—some traditional in the old ways, such as the symbol of fertility that was pressed into her hand by the cook, and some modern—Alex in turn gave each staff member an envelope.

  By the time they reached his waiting Lamborghini outside, Loren’s arms were full of the tokens bestowed upon them. She made it into the car without dropping a one, and once settled she allowed them to tumble gently into her lap. Alex reached behind her seat to extricate a box and passed it to her before turning the key in the ignition and easing the car into gear and out through the castle gates.

  Loren gently placed each token into the box, her fingers lingering on the Sagradan symbol of fertility, an intricately carved egg, before placing it inside and closing the lid.

  “That was lovely,” she commented, her hands firmly holding the box on her lap as they drove along the coastal road toward Puerto Seguro.

  “You think so?” Alex asked, raising one dark brow. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have cared.”

  “Of course I care. Why would you think I wouldn’t?” Surprise brought a defensive tone to her voice.

  Alex merely shrugged and Loren felt herself bristle at his nonchalance.

  “Don’t judge me by your other women,” she said quietly, but with a strong hint of steel.

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Alex replied. “You are nothing like them.”

  Unable to come up with a suitable response, Loren lapsed into silence. She watched the road ahead of them through burning eyes and wished things could have been different. Of course she was nothing like his other women. If the tabloids had carried even an ounce of truth, those women had been confident, sophisticated and unerringly beautiful. Women like Giselle, for example.

  For what felt like the umpteenth time, Loren castigated herself for having hoped for anything else from Alex other than what she’d ended up with. She knew better than most that life was no bed of roses. The only child of parents who’d loved passionately and fought bitterly, she’d seen what a push-me-pull-you state marriage could be. And she’d experienced firsthand the pain that ensued when such a marriage irrevocably broke down.

  But at least her parents had enjoyed many years together before the cracks had started to show. It was more than what her immediate future held, unless she was fortunate enough for a fertilization procedure to work on the first attempt. If she could fill her life with a child then she could quite possibly manage to be happy.

  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 th
e 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.”

 

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