by Abby Green
His instant concern for his nephews heartened something inside her. Some fledgling and delicate hope that perhaps she could appeal to him. In spite of all the evidence so far to the contrary.
She shook her head. ‘No, they’re fine. I just checked on them.’
‘Well, is it something else?’
Trinity came further into the room, suddenly aware that Cruz was looking at her with a very narrow-eyed assessing gaze and that she was still in the dress. She cursed herself for not having changed into something less...dramatic.
Cruz stood up. ‘Would you like a drink?’
She shook her head, thinking that the last thing she needed was to cloud her brain. ‘No, thank you.’
He gestured to a seat on the other side of the table and as she sat down he said, ‘I noticed you didn’t drink much earlier—you don’t like it?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. I never acquired the taste.’ As soon as she said that, though, she regretted not asking for some brandy—she could do with the Dutch courage.
‘So? To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?’
Trinity looked at Cruz suspiciously. Something about the tone of his voice scraped across her jumping nerves. Was he mocking her for having exposed herself so easily earlier, when he’d kissed her? His expression was unreadable, though, and she told herself she was imagining things.
She took a breath. ‘I just...wanted to talk to you about this arrangement. About going forward, making a practical life together.’
Cruz took a sip of his drink and lowered the glass slowly again. ‘Practical? I seem to recall events earlier which would turn the “practical” aspects of this relationship into far more pleasurable ones.’
Trinity immediately stood up, agitated. He was mocking her. ‘I did not come here to talk about that.’
Totally unperturbed, and like a lazy jungle cat eyeing its prey, Cruz just sat back and said, ‘Pity. What did you want to talk about, then?’
She ploughed on before this far more disturbing and flirty Cruz could make her lose her nerve.
‘I know that I won’t be able to continue with this sham marriage while you believe the worst of me and don’t trust me. It’ll start to affect the boys. They’re too young to pick up on the tension now, but they’re intelligent and inquisitive and it’ll soon become apparent. That kiss earlier...it was unacceptable and disrespectful of my boundaries. This is meant to be a marriage in name only. You will either need to learn to deal with your antipathy for me or...’ she took a breath ‘...we can move on from the past.’
Cruz went very still and then he put his glass down. He stood up and put his hands on the table, his eyes intense. A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘You think that kiss was a demonstration of my antipathy? That kiss was the inevitable result of our explosive mutual desire and proof that you want me as much as I want you.’
Trinity sucked in a breath, mortification rushing through her, and in a desperate bid to deny such a thing she blurted out, ‘You gave me no time to respond. I was in shock.’
He arched a brow. ‘So your response was down to shock?’
He stood up straight and started to move towards her. Trinity panicked, stepping away from the chair. She should never have come in here. This had been a terrible idea.
‘Yes,’ she said desperately. ‘Of course it was shock. And you can’t do that... Just...manhandle me when you feel like it.’
* * *
Cruz stopped in his tracks. Trinity’s words hung starkly in the air between them. Anger raced up his spine. No, fury. He had to control himself, because he was very close to manhandling her into admitting that their kiss had been very mutual.
But she was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he was some kind of wild mountain lion. He felt wild, and he was not wild. He was civilised.
He bit out, ‘For someone being manhandled your response was very passionate.’
He saw her throat move as she swallowed and the pulse beating frantically at the base of her neck. Right now he knew with every cell in his body that if he was to touch her they would combust. But something held him back—some sense of self-preservation. He couldn’t trust that she wasn’t just baiting him on purpose.
When they did come together it would be on his terms, and he wouldn’t be feeling these raw, uncontrolled urges pushing him to the limits of his control.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m here because there are things I want to talk to you about. Important things.’
Cruz kept his gaze up, away from her tantalising curves in that amazing dress. He would put nothing past her. One thing was for sure, though. She wasn’t going to see how his blood throbbed just under the surface of his skin. He wouldn’t lose it twice in one evening.
He leant back against his desk and folded his arms, as if that might stop him from reaching for her. ‘Well, no one is stopping you from talking now, Trinity. I’m all ears.’
She swallowed visibly, and Cruz saw that she was nervous. Once again she could be taking advantage of this situation, seducing him, but she wasn’t. It irritated him.
‘All that stuff Rio told you about me being a gold-digger...none of it is true. He lied to you.’
Cruz went cold. She didn’t have to come here and seduce him—she was smarter than that. She just had to come and mess with his head.
He stood and closed the distance between them and her eyes widened. He stopped just short of touching her. ‘How dare you use the fact that my brother is silenced for ever as an excuse to further your own cause?’
‘I’m not,’ she said fiercely, tipping up her chin. ‘You need to listen to me. You need to know the real truth of my marriage to Rio...’
A dark emotion was snapping and boiling inside Cruz at the thought of the truth of her marriage to Rio. Sharing his bed. The thought that his brother had got to fully taste what she’d offered up to Cruz so enticingly before he’d stopped her.
Did he want to hear about that? No. He wished that thoughts of her with Rio would make him turn from her in disgust, but the fire inside him only burnt brighter as he battled a primal urge to stake a claim that reduced him to an animal state.
He caught her arms in his hands and hauled her into his body, so he could remind her of where she was and with whom. Him.
He ground out, ‘When will you get it that I will never trust a word you say? From now on if you want to try to manipulate me I’d prefer if you used the currency you use best...your body. At least that way we’ll both get pleasure out of the interaction and it’ll be a lot more honest.’
‘Cruz...’
That was all he heard before he stopped Trinity’s poisonous words with his mouth.
The kiss was an intense battle of wills. Cruz’s anger was red-hot, thundering in his veins. But then she managed to break free, pulling back, her hands on his chest, breathing heavily. If Cruz had been able to call on any rationality he would have been horrified. No woman had ever driven him to such base urges. To want to stamp his brand on her.
They stared at each other, tension crackling. But then, as he looked down into those blue eyes, swirling with something he couldn’t fathom, the intense anger dissipated to be replaced by something far less angry and more carnal.
He curled an arm around her waist, drawing her right in, close to his body, until he saw her cheeks flush with the awareness of his erection against her soft flesh. It was torture and pleasure all at once. With his other hand he reached around to the back of her head and undid her hair, so that it fell around her shoulders in a golden cloud.
He could feel her resistance melting. Even though she said, ‘Cruz...don’t...’
‘Don’t what?’ he asked silkily. ‘Do this?’ And he touched her jaw, tracing its delicate line, then cupped her cheek, angling her head up.
She spread her hands o
n his chest and he thought she was going to push him away, but she didn’t. Something inside him exulted. This time when he bent his head and kissed her there was an infinitesimal moment of hesitation and then her mouth opened to him and his blood roared. There was just this, and this was all that mattered right now.
CHAPTER SIX
TRINITY WAS RUNNING down the long, dark corridors of the Castillo. The stern faces of all those ancestors were staring down at her, each one silently judging her. The footsteps behind her were getting closer...her heart was in her throat, thumping so hard she could hardly breathe...
There was an open door on the left. She ducked in and slammed the door shut, chest heaving, sweat prickling on her skin. And then she heard it. The sound of breathing in the room...
Terror kept her frozen in place, her back to the door as the breathing got closer and closer. And then out of the gloom appeared a face. A very familiar, starkly beautiful face. Amber eyes hard. Stern. Angry. Hot.
Hands reached for her and Trinity knew she should try to escape. But suddenly she wasn’t scared any more. She was excited... And instead of running she threw herself into Cruz’s arms...
The disturbing dream still lingered, and Trinity shivered in the bright morning sunlight of another beautiful day. She didn’t have to be a psychologist to figure out where it had come from. When Cruz had kissed her after that angry exchange in his study at first she’d resisted, but then something had changed...and when he’d touched her again she’d responded against her best intentions.
All the man had to do was touch her, look at her, and she wanted him. And with each touch and kiss it was getting harder to resist... She’d finally had the sense to pull back and step away last night, but it had taken every last shred of control she had.
Shakily she’d said, ‘I didn’t come here for this.’
‘So you say,’ Cruz had answered, with infuriating insouciance, looking as if he hadn’t just kissed her so hard she could barely see straight. It had been particularly galling, because just moments before he’d demonstrated that once again any attempt to defend herself or tell the truth would be met with stubborn resistance.
A sense of futility made her ache inside. How could she continue like this? With Cruz blatantly refusing to listen to her? Maybe this was how he’d drive her away...by stonewalling her at every turn...
Matty shouted, ‘Mummy, look! Unkel Cooz!’
Sancho jumped up, clapping his hands. ‘Play, play!’
Trinity tensed all over as a long shadow fell over where she was sitting cross-legged in the grass; the boys were playing nearby. With the utmost reluctance she looked up, shading her eyes against Cruz’s sheer masculine beauty as much as against the sun. Matty and Sancho—not scared of him at all any more—had grabbed a leg each, looking up at their new hero.
He lifted both boys up into his arms with an easy grace that annoyed her intensely. The fact that he was dressed down, in faded jeans and a dark polo shirt that strained across his chest muscles, was something she tried desperately not to notice. But it was hard when his biceps were bulging enticingly, reminding her of how it felt when they were wrapped around her.
She stood up, feeling at a disadvantage.
Cruz said, ‘I came to tell you that I’ve been invited to another function this evening. We’ll leave at seven.’
His autocratic tone sliced right into her, as did the scary prospect of countless more evenings like the previous one, when she’d reveal herself more and more. When he might touch her again.
She folded her arms and said coolly, ‘I’m not going out this evening.’
The boys were squirming in Cruz’s arms, growing bored already, and when he put them down they scampered off to the nearby sandpit. Trinity saw how his eyes followed them for a moment, making sure they were all right, and his concern made her feel warm inside until she clamped down on the sensation. This man evoked too much within her.
He looked back at her. ‘I don’t recall you being offered a choice.’
Irritation spiked at her reaction as much as to his tone. ‘I’m not just some employee you can order around. It would be nice if you could pretend you’re polite enough to ask if I’d like to come.’
‘You’re my wife,’ Cruz offered tersely.
Something poignant gripped Trinity—if she was his wife for real then presumably they’d have a discussion about this sort of thing... She might agree to go because he’d tell her he’d be bored, or that he’d miss her if she didn’t. The thought of that kind of domesticity made a treacherous shard of longing go through her before she could stop it.
Where had that illicit fantasy come from? One of the reasons she’d agreed to marry Rio—apart from her concern for the boys—was because after years of being an outsider in other people’s homes as a foster child it had been easier to contemplate a marriage of convenience than to dare dream that she might one day have a real family of her own...
The prospect of Cruz ever seeing that deeply inside her made her go clammy all over.
Her arms tightened. ‘I’m not going out this evening because I think the boys are coming down with something and I want to observe them for twenty-four hours to make sure they’re okay. Sancho still isn’t over his bug completely.’
Cruz glanced at the boys and back to her. ‘They look fine to me.’
‘They were off their food at breakfast, which isn’t like them.’
‘Mrs Jordan can watch them, and call us if she’s worried.’
Exasperated, Trinity unfolded her arms and put her hands on her hips. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I’m worried about them, and even if it’s only a niggle then I will put them first. I am the one they need if they’re not feeling well.’
Scathingly, Cruz said, ‘So you’re not above using my nephews as an excuse?’
Hurt that he should think her capable of such a thing she said, ‘Their welfare comes first, so I don’t really care what you think.’
Cruz’s jaw clenched, and then he just said, ‘Seven p.m., Trinity. Be ready.’ And then he turned and walked away.
To her shame she couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping down his broad back to where his worn jeans showed off his powerful buttocks. Disgusted with herself, she whirled around and went over to the boys who, she had to admit, would look fine to most observers but not to her, who knew all their little habits and foibles.
Something wasn’t quite right and she wasn’t going to let Cruz bully her.
* * *
Later that evening Cruz’s blood was boiling. No one had ever stood him up. Certainly not a woman. But Trinity had. Julia, looking terrified—was he really that scary?—had come with a note when he’d been waiting for Trinity in the hall.
Sorry, Cruz, but I’m just not certain the boys aren’t coming down with something. I’m not coming. T.
The note was crumpled in his palm now, as he strode along the dark corridors to the wing Trinity and the boys occupied. Something about the oppressiveness of the castillo scraped along his nerves, when it never really had before. It was as if having Trinity and the boys here was throwing everything into sharp relief...
When he was near the boys’ bedroom he could hear fractious cries and Trinity’s tones, soothing. He stopped in the doorway to see her changing a clearly cranky Sancho into his pyjamas.
Mateo was running around in his nappy. As soon as he saw Cruz he sped over. ‘Come play, Unkel Cooz!’
Cruz’s chest felt tight. He bent down. ‘Not now, chiquito. Tomorrow.’
He put his hand to Mateo’s head and it felt warm. He looked up to see Trinity standing in front of him, still wearing the jeans and shirt she’d had on earlier. She really wasn’t coming.
He straightened up and a determined expression came over her face. ‘I meant it, Cruz, I’m worried about the boys. They’ve been off their
food all day and they’re both running slight temperatures. They also didn’t nap today, so they’re overtired now. It’s probably nothing serious, but I’m not leaving them. I’ve given Mrs Jordan the evening off so she can take over in the morning.’
Cruz was slightly stunned yet again to think that she wasn’t even their mother. Right now, with the boys in the room behind her, he had the distinct impression of a mother bear guarding her cubs from danger. He couldn’t figure out what she could possibly be gaining from this if she was playing some game.
To his surprise something dark gripped his gut, and it took him a moment to acknowledge uncomfortably that it was jealousy—and something else...something more ambiguous that went deeper.
Jealousy of his nephews, who were being afforded such care and protection—the kind of protection he’d vowed to give them but which now he realised he was too woefully inexperienced to give.
The something deeper was a sharp sense of poignancy that his own mother had never cared for him like this. Dios, even his nanny hadn’t shown this much concern.
Feeling very uncharacteristically at a momentary loss, he recognised that for the first time in his life he would have to back down.
‘Call me if they get worse, or if you need anything. Maria the housekeeper has the number of my doctor.’
Trinity nodded, shocked that Cruz was conceding. She’d half expected him to insist on dressing her himself and dragging her out of the castillo.
He stepped away and said, ‘I’ll check on you when I get back.’
The thought of him coming in later, with his bow tie undone and looking far too sexy, made her say quickly, ‘There’s no—’
He looked at her warningly. ‘I’ll check on you.’
‘Okay.’
For a moment something seemed to shimmer between them—something fragile. Then Cruz turned and left and she breathed out an unsteady breath. She turned around to focus on the boys and told herself that she’d just been imagining that moment of softening between them. Wishful thinking.
* * *
When Cruz returned later that night he went straight to the boys’ room, where a low light leaked from under the door. He ruminated that he hadn’t enjoyed one minute of the function—not that he usually did, because he considered these events work—and he realised now with some irritation that he’d missed having Trinity at his side. Seeing her reaction to everything. Having her close enough to touch.