He reached for her, noting briefly the expression of surprise that danced across her beautiful face, and drew her into his arms. She held herself stiffly for a moment, before her body melted against his. Soft against hard. Feminine against the masculine. And it felt right. Shockingly, amazingly right. Every part of his body attuned to hers. His breathing slowed and steadied and it was almost as if his heart now beat to the same rhythm as that of the woman in his arms. For the first time in hours, he actually relaxed.
“Thank you,” he murmured against the top of her fiery head. “You have been amazing.”
“I aim to please,” she said teasingly, clearly trying to make light of the situation. “Besides, I only arranged a short-term lease on the items, but I thought your family might like to make the furnishings a permanent donation to the hospital for other families that are going through what you guys are.”
She pulled free of his arms and walked over to the coffee machine, and picked up the instruction booklet. Even though she made a show of reading it, he could tell their brief contact had unsettled her. Unsettled her? It had totally unsettled him, as well. His blood pumped with a new demand through his veins. His senses were totally in sync with her and her alone. Not even Loren and Alex’s quiet appreciation of the new furniture, as they cuddled at one end of the couch totally lost in one another, broke through the focus that was Sara’s and hers alone.
Rina felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle under Rey’s sharp regard. It had been all too easy to flow into his arms just then. She hadn’t wanted to pull away but had forced herself to do so before she became altogether too comfortable. She kept reminding herself this was only temporary and that once the crisis with Benedict had passed, and she fervently hoped it would, she’d be able to tell Reynard the truth about why she was here instead of her sister.
A part of her wished she hadn’t agreed to Sara’s plans. Or that she’d insisted on telling Reynard the truth the moment she’d met him at his office. But seeing what all the members of the family were going through, she couldn’t do that to him, as well. She knew firsthand how it felt to be rejected by the person you’d promised to marry. How much worse would it be if that happened while another person you loved fought for their life at the same time?
No, what she’d do instead was what she did best and what she made her living doing as a contract “Girl Friday” back home. Already, her knowledge and experience in publicity and problem solving was standing her in good stead in her self-appointed mission to make sure the family was taken care of as they dealt with Benedict’s crisis. She’d make certain that every aspect of the del Castillos’ time at the hospital went as smoothly as possible so they could focus on the person who needed them most. Whether it was organizing nutritious meals to be brought to their waiting room, or changes of clothes and access to a shower and bathroom, she’d make it happen.
And the truth? Well, she’d face up to that as soon as she could. As unpalatable as that would be.
The next two days passed painfully slowly. The family appeared to be trapped in a fugue of uncertainty until finally, at midday on the third day, Benedict’s doctor came to the waiting room. Rina was almost too afraid to hope for good news as the man entered, his face looked so severe. But then, to everyone’s great relief, a smile spread across his features.
“Señor del Castillo has made great progress in the past two days. He is coming out of the induced coma and all the indicators are looking strong at this stage. Of course, his full recovery will be demanding, but I am sure that with the support of his family, he will make it.”
Rey and Alex peppered the doctor with questions after that but Rina noticed that Abuelo remained in his chair, his eyes suddenly awash with tears. She dropped to her knees and took his gnarled hands in her own.
“It’s good news, Abuelo. Benedict will be all right. He’s strong, he will make it.”
Aston del Castillo lifted a hand to stroke her hair gently. “Thank you, I know he will survive. He is a del Castillo. Now we must fight the curse before it is too late.”
Rina had overheard mutterings of the curse before but still no one had told her exactly what was involved.
“Too late?” she asked. “Tell me, why would it be too late?”
“They are running out of time. They refuse to believe it. Even Reynard.” The old man shook his head slowly before fixing her with a slightly manic stare. “But you can make it work. You can help break the curse. She will not wait forever.”
“Señor, you mustn’t worry the señorita so,” Javier interrupted before Aston could say anymore. “Thank you, Mees Woodville, you have made our vigil here so much more comfortable for two old men.”
“Pah, old men. Speak for yourself,” Aston said with a chuckle to his manservant.
Rina slowly rose to her feet. She wouldn’t hear any more from Abuelo about the curse today, and now with Benedict’s improvement and the promise he’d be out of intensive care in the next day or two, she knew they probably didn’t need her here quite as much as they had. She was happy for Benedict—happy for all the del Castillo family—but suddenly it made facing reality just that much harder.
After the doctor had left and everyone had agreed to head to their respective homes for a break before taking shifts to return in the evening, Rina went up to Rey and lightly touched him on the arm.
“I’ll go back to the cottage now. See you later, perhaps?”
“Let me drive you home,” Reynard said smoothly, coming forward to take her by the hand.
“No, that’s okay, I’m used to taking the taxi.”
“And you shouldn’t be. You’re my fiancée and I should have been taking better care of you instead of the other way around. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“You’re welcome, Rey, but seriously, it’s what I do b—” She faltered before continuing. “It’s what I’d do for anyone in this situation. You needed to keep your focus on Benedict.”
For a minute she thought he’d press her on what she’d been about to say before she’d corrected herself, but thankfully he didn’t. Instead, they made their goodbyes to the family and Javier before Rey led her out into the corridor, his fingers still lightly clasping her hand.
The contact sent a steady buzz of warmth up her arm. She still couldn’t quite get used to this intensity of reaction every time he touched her. It wasn’t normal, she was sure. Even with Jacob, whom she’d loved—still loved, she reminded herself sharply—she hadn’t felt this tingling sense of attraction every single time their skin met.
The drive back to the cottage went swiftly. It was as if now that the pressure of worrying if Benedict would live or die had passed, Rey was in an all-fired hurry to resume his normal life. As they pulled up outside the cottage, Rina turned to him to thank him for the ride home but he was already getting out of the car and coming around to her door to open it for her.
“Thank you,” she said, as he held the door and offered his hand to help her.
As he did, she noticed his eyes narrow, and his thumb stroked along her ring finger, particularly across the slightly paler band of skin there.
“Where is your ring?” he asked. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”
Oh hell, she thought frantically. She hadn’t stopped to think about the envelope Sara had given her on the day she’d arrived, or its obscenely valuable contents.
“I…I, um, I took it off the other night when I came back. I didn’t want to get it dirty when I did the dishes and with everything that’s been going on, I forgot to put it back on.”
She fished in her bag and took out the key to the cottage, before swiftly inserting it in the ancient lock and pushing the door open. A few short steps took her to the table where she’d left Sara’s envelope. She cursed herself for her stupidity. Rey could have seen it at any time and wondered what it was there for, and who this “Rina Woodville” was that it had been addressed to. And what if he’d read Sara’s note?
She tipped the envelope and t
he ostentatious diamond solitaire fell into her hand. She slid the ring onto her finger, the cool metal a chilling brand against her skin and a reminder of the lie she’d agreed to perpetuate.
“There, see? Back where it belongs.”
She smiled but to her surprise Reynard did not smile back. Oh Lord, had he guessed the truth? Did he realize now, for some reason, that she was not Sara?
Reynard looked at the ring upon Sara’s finger and at the envelope from which she’d taken it, which still lay on the table. He’d only caught a glimpse of the front of the envelope, but that had been enough to see that it had her handwriting on it. Had she been on the verge of breaking things off with him? he wondered. Why else would she have put her ring in an envelope? An envelope that even now she was scrunching in the fist of one hand. Had it been addressed to him?
He couldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her back out. Especially not now. Aside from what it would do to Abuelo, he suddenly realized that he wasn’t ready to let her go. If he was going to keep this working for as long as he needed, it was time to pull out all the stops. His responsibility to his family to project a united facade together with his brothers was primary. There was no room for second thoughts. The hell with keeping things platonic—if it took seducing her to make her stay then he’d do it.
So what if doing so was no great hardship. Rey closed his eyes for a second, refusing to admit, even to himself, that the prospect of seducing Sara held more allure than he wanted to acknowledge. He was doing this for his family.
“Would you like some coffee before you head home?” she said, although her voice sounded strained, as if what she really wanted was for him just to leave.
Well, he wasn’t having that. Oh no. No one withdrew from Reynard del Castillo without his permission. Keeping his suspicions locked deep inside, Rey took a step toward her and was surprised to see her back away in response. He smiled. She could run, but she couldn’t hide—not now he’d made up his mind about just what direction this engagement of theirs was to turn to next.
“No, thank you. I do not want coffee.”
He deliberately let his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips, where he saw the tip of her tongue suddenly dart out to moisten their lush surface, before letting his view drop farther to her breasts. Her chest rose and fell quickly, betraying her nerves as he took another slow careful step toward her. He could see the outline of her nipples as they pressed against her softly patterned dress. Small sharp distended points begging for his touch.
“Something else then?” she persisted, her backside now against the edge of the table, one hand reaching out into the space between them as if she could somehow halt his advance.
“Sí, something else.”
He flicked his eyes back up to hers, noting her dilated pupils before closing the distance between them completely. The hand she’d held in front of her brushed against his belly, then rode up the surface of his shirt to his chest, leaving an electric trail of heat. Rey slid one arm around her slender waist, and pulled her against his hips before lowering his head and taking her lips with his own. The instant his lips touched hers he knew it was not Sara Woodville in his arms.
Six
Kissing Sara had always been pleasant—fun, even. But this, this was something else altogether. It was all-consuming and lit a fire inside him that burned brighter and hotter than anything he’d experienced before. And, as it continued, drove all rational thought and conscience from his mind leaving him only open to glorious sensation.
The taste of her generous mouth filled his senses, stoking his hunger to flaming levels of demanding need. And because he could, he took more. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips until they parted, then swept inside her to lay claim without dispute. Logically, he knew he should stop—should demand to know who she was and what she was doing pretending to be Sara—but logic had no place here and now.
Her body melded against his, her hips meshed against his lower body, her mound pressing against his hardness and inciting an ache that threatened to consume him. While he continued to hold her firm against his body, his other hand reached up and tangled in her glorious hair, and he coaxed her head back a little more, allowing him a clear angle to the smooth curve of her throat.
Even her skin tasted like more. A subtle blend of sweetness and flowers that made heat pool heavily in his groin. His lips blazed a trail from the corner of her mouth down across her jawline until he reached the tiny hollow behind her ear. His tongue flicked over her skin and she moaned—an uncontrolled, instinctive sound that reverberated through his ears and sent his heart rate soaring.
He felt her hand on his chest, her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt, her other hand now curled behind his neck, holding him to her, anchoring him.
Dios, he wanted more than this. He wanted to taste all of her. To discover if her hidden places were as deliciously sweet as those he’d tasted now.
Tremors shook his body as he left a hot path of kisses down her throat and the hollow at the base of her neck. Again, he flicked his tongue against her skin. As before, the intoxicating elixir of the flavor of her sent hunger clawing through him.
Both her hands were now knotted in the short strands of his hair and the pleasure/pain of it added a new dimension to their embrace. He lifted his head and captured her mouth once more. Starving now for the taste of her, for the softness of her lips, the heat and wetness of her tongue as it met his and tangled in a duel that knew no losers.
This was passion. This was absolute. His body knew it even as his mind struggled to equate the reality of the ardent, hotblooded woman pressed against him—her hunger equal to his own—with the skittish creature who’d kept him at arm’s length for weeks.
He couldn’t stop kissing her, consuming her. He just couldn’t get enough of the taste and texture and feel of her. The hand he’d kept at the small of her back coasted lower, over the curve of her buttocks. She felt different from the Sara he knew. The same general size, yet there was a hardness missing from her body. The tensile strength of an event rider gone, and in its place an enticing edge of softness. Not that there was anything out of condition about her body. To the contrary. She felt lithe and strong, yet yielding in all the right places.
No. This was definitely not Sara Woodville. It couldn’t be. But then who was she?
Slowly, he loosened his embrace and tempered the heat in his caresses until he could gently push her away. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, her gray eyes reminding him of a stormy, turbulent sky right before a storm. Her lips were slightly swollen, still moist and parted. Still inviting him to sup at their softness.
Reynard fought with his instincts, overcoming them with the cold reality that she was not who he’d thought, and driven by the need to find out exactly who she really was. His family had been the target of scammers before—people who thought, for whatever reason, that they deserved a slice of the wealth that made up the del Castillo fortune. He’d developed an instinct for them. One that had saved him and his family much heartache. The fact she had slipped under his radar was disconcerting, but he knew he daren’t show his hand too early.
“I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse, as if words were more than she could handle right now.
Somehow he found the strength to tear his gaze from her face and to drop his hands back to his sides and walk to the front door. As he drove away, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. It was difficult with his heart still racing, his blood still hot in his veins and an erection that demanded to be assuaged.
She looked like Sara, sounded like Sara—even moved the same way—but she was definitely not Sara. He’d wager his life on it.
He racked his memory, trying to think of what he knew of Sara Woodville beyond her talent as an equestrian, beyond her flaming beauty that drew looks and turned heads wherever she went. She’d mentioned family in New Zealand, he was sure of it. A sister, perhaps? Ye
s, a sister. They’d both competed in equestrian events as teenagers but Sara had stayed with the sport, going so far as to qualify to represent her country—as she had done while here on Isla Sagrado, when he’d met her. But the sister? He shook his head as he tried to force the memory from his brain.
By the time he’d pulled into the underground car park at his apartment building and ridden the lift to the penthouse—overlooking Puerto Seguro’s harbor lights—his blood had finally begun to cool, but he was no closer to an answer. Still, how difficult could it be in this wonderful Internet age, he wondered, to find out just how close a sister Sara Woodville had?
It was only a matter of minutes before he had the information he needed. He stared at the search results on his computer screen and sipped slowly at the delicious red del Castillo Tempranillo wine he’d poured for himself while his computer booted up.
An identical twin.
He oughtn’t to have been surprised, yet somehow the news still came as a shock to him. So, Sarina Woodville was standing in for her twin sister—an engaged Sarina Woodville at that, if the notice showing her and her fiancé in a local paper was any indicator. So why was she here instead; and where the hell was Sara? What scheme lay behind those identically beautiful faces? The web information he’d attained showed they came from fairly humble beginnings. Clearly, money was an enticement—how else would they maintain the kind of lifestyle and extravagance he’d seen Sara indulge in? Her riding sponsorship could only go so far and eventing was an expensive sport.
Even though the del Castillo wealth had diminished somewhat over the years—the result of the curse in action, as Abuelo would insist, Reynard thought with an ironic curve of his lips—the family was very well-placed in Sagradan society. And they were definitely wealthy enough to attract a scam. Estella Martinez had been a perfect example of that. Maybe in this case, the twins had decided that two scammers were better than one?
Stand-In Bride's Seduction Page 6