‘I suppose you’re right. And, speaking of your dress, I have something for you.’ He extracted a slim leather case from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
‘What is it?’ Grace asked.
‘Open it and see.’ He smiled when her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and he heard her gasp as she stared down at the ruby-and-diamond necklace suspended on a long gold chain.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But you can’t give me this. It must be worth a fortune.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my wife—I can give you anything I like.’ He lifted the stunning pendant from its box and placed it around her neck so that the ruby settled between her breasts. ‘It matches your dress perfectly,’ he said with a note of satisfaction.
‘But Javier …’ Grace broke off and stared at the precious jewel that lay cold and heavy on her skin. ‘I can’t keep it. I’ll have it on loan and return it to you when I go.’
‘When you go where?’ he queried idly. He flicked a glance at his watch and strolled towards the door, indicating that it was time they went downstairs to greet their guests.
‘When I go home—a-after our divorce,’ Grace stammered, swallowing the sudden tears that clogged her throat at the mere thought of leaving him.
Javier stiffened, his face an inscrutable mask of chiselled perfection that left no clue to his thoughts. ‘We’ll worry about it then,’ he said sharply. ‘I bought it because I thought you’d like it, but you’ll wear it even if you don’t. You are the Duquesa de Herrera, and in front of my guests I expect you to look and act the part.’
It hadn’t been an auspicious start to the evening, Grace acknowledged miserably some hours later, when the five-course dinner was finally over and coffee and liqueurs were being served in the salon. As far as the guests were concerned, Javier appeared to be a devoted husband—only she knew that his tender expression disguised the coldness in his eyes when he smiled at her. His role as host meant that he had a perfect excuse to talk to everyone bar her, and he had spent much of the meal flirting with the vivacious blonde seated on one side of him and Lucita Vasquez on the other.
Not that she cared, Grace told herself fiercely. Throughout dinner the queasiness that had plagued her for the past few days had returned, and her brow pleated into a frown at the untimely reminder of her secret worry. Her period was late—only by a few days, but late enough for her to panic.
She couldn’t be pregnant—it was impossible, she tried to reassure herself, feeling her stomach rebel as the smell of strong coffee assailed her senses. Javier had used protection every time he’d made love to her—well, almost every time. There had been a few occasions when he hadn’t had a condom to hand, like the time he’d laid her down on the grass and made love to her beneath the moonlight—or more recently when he had shared her shower and insisted on soaping every inch of her body until desire had overwhelmed them and he had taken her with a wild, primitive passion that had shocked and enthralled her.
Could those few careless moments of pleasure have resulted in her conceiving Javier’s child? A tremor ran through her, a mixture of fear and incredulous joy, as for a few seconds she imagined cradling his baby in her arms. Reality swiftly intruded. What would Javier think? It was safe to say that a child had not been part of his game plan, she realised bleakly. Her heart gave a tiny flutter of hope—maybe he would be pleased?
‘Are you feeling unwell, Grace? You look even paler than usual,’ Lucita Vasquez commented as she slid into the space on the small sofa next to Grace.
‘I’m fine, just a little nauseous, that’s all,’ Grace replied, pushing her coffee cup to the far side of the table. ‘Too much rich food, I’m afraid,’ she added when Lucita studied her speculatively. The young Spanish girl looked ravishing with her silky black curls dancing on her shoulders and her voluptuous curves emphasised by the clingy material of her white dress. With her huge gold hoop earrings and bangles on her wrist she looked both elegant and sexy, and a lot older than her teenage years.
She stared at Grace for a few moments, her black eyes gleaming before she gave a tight smile. ‘Rich food?’ she taunted softly ‘I don’t think so. My sister has three children, and she couldn’t bear the smell of coffee during her pregnancies. Perhaps there’s another reason for your pale complexion.’
Grace took a sharp breath but found that she couldn’t meet the younger woman’s knowing gaze. ‘I could be wrong, it’s not confirmed,’ she muttered. But even as she spoke the words she knew—with a feminine instinct as old as time—that she was pregnant.
‘So, Javier’s plan has worked,’ Lucita hissed, her pretty face suddenly as sharp as a weasel. ‘I must hand it to him—getting himself a wife and an heir within the allotted year is quite an achievement, even for a stallion like him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Grace demanded as an inexplicable feeling of dread coiled in her stomach. ‘You know nothing about my marriage.’
‘I know everything,’ Lucita stated confidently. ‘I know Javier only married you to secure his position as head of El Banco de Herrera, and I also know that he decided to use the year that he was saddled with a wife to fulfil the terms of his grandfather’s will and father the next Herrera heir.’
For a few horrific seconds the room swayed and Grace gripped the edge of the table. She couldn’t faint—not now, in front of Lucita’s mocking gaze. She licked her parched lips and stared at the other girl, noting the gleam of triumph in her black eyes. ‘Who told you?’ she whispered, aware that continuing with the pretence of a happy bride was futile when Lucita was so cock-sure of herself. ‘Was it Javier?’ she demanded, feeling sick to her stomach when the girl merely smiled knowingly.
‘Never mind, Grace, Javier won’t file for divorce until after you’ve given birth to his baby,’ Lucita drawled. ‘Naturally, he’ll insist that the child lives with him at El Castillo de Leon, but I’m sure he’ll allow you to visit from time to time.’
Grace stumbled to her feet, suddenly desperate to escape from Lucita’s spiteful tongue. ‘Nothing will ever separate me from my child, do you hear me? Nothing! Why are you telling me all this anyway? You’re delusional if you think Javier will ever turn to you. He could have married you and claimed control of your father’s bank as well El Banco de Herrera, but he considered you too young.’
Lucita’s lips thinned but she replied coolly, ‘That’s right. We planned to wait a few years, until I’d finished my education.
But under the terms of Carlos’s will Javier had to marry immediately. That’s the only reason he chose you.’
Grace couldn’t deny the intrinsic truth of the Spanish girl’s statement and, not trusting herself to make any further comment, she hurried across the room towards the French doors, in desperate need of fresh air. It wasn’t true, she told herself over and over again—Javier could be ruthless when he wanted his own way, but he would never have deliberately made love to her without protection to ensure that she conceived his child.
But he had purposefully withheld knowledge of the clause in his grandfather’s will that demanded he produce an heir, she acknowledged bleakly. Instinctively her hands moved to her stomach. He wasn’t a cruel man—he had shown her kindness and consideration as well as passion during the first half of their marriage. Had it all been a ploy to lull her into a false sense of security before he demanded custody of her baby?
Lucita had to be lying, she thought feverishly. The man she had fallen in love with wasn’t capable of such callous behaviour. There was only one way that she could settle her fears, and that was to ask him outright if there had been an additional clause in Carlos’s will—before she told him of her suspicions that she was pregnant.
She scanned the room, frantically searching for his tall, lean frame. He always stood out in a crowd, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Her eyes swung to the wide, recessed window just in time to witness Lucita put her arm around him and kiss him fully on the cheek. Far from looking annoyed, Javier threw
back his head and laughed, and for Grace it was the final straw. Bile burned a corrosive path in her throat, and with a muffled sob she ran from the room, stopping only to inform Torres that she felt unwell and was retiring to her room. She knew the butler would immediately pass on the news to Javier, but somehow she doubted he would care—he had his hands full, quite literally, with his sexy Spanish seductress.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘GRACE, unlock the door or I swear I’ll break it down.’
Grace sat huddled on the end of the bed, and watched the heavy wooden door rattle in its frame. Javier wasn’t joking—any minute now she feared that the door would actually give way beneath the force of his blows. Dared she let him in? She didn’t know what to say to him, how to face him without revealing her heartbreak that had seen her spend the last hour weeping silently into the pillows.
‘Grace! Are you ill? Torres said you felt unwell. Speak to me, damn it.’ There followed a torrent of swearwords in low-pitched Spanish, a brief silence and then the sound of something heavy being rammed against the door.
Never mind knocking the door down, he was going to bring the castle crumbling around their ears, Grace thought angrily as she scrambled off the bed and marched over to the door. She turned the key and yanked the door wide open, just as he was about to land another blow with one of the solid oak chairs that usually stood in the hallway.
‘What do you want?’
‘What do I want?’ He slowly lowered the chair and glowered at her, looking so devastatingly sexy with his shirt buttons half-undone and his hair flopping onto his brow that despite everything her knees felt weak, and she gripped the door frame for support. ‘An explanation would be nice, querida,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘Do you have a valid reason for your temper tantrum, or is it simply a bid for attention?’
‘At least you’re honest enough to admit that it was necessary for me to do something to drag you away from Lucita’s juvenile charms,’ Grace replied sweetly. ‘Tell me truthfully, Javier, why didn’t you just marry her when you had the chance, rather than putting us all through this whole miserable charade?’
‘By “miserable charade” I take it you are referring to our marriage?’ Javier growled savagely, his eyes glittering with fury as he pushed her backwards into the room and kept on pushing until she hit the bed with the backs of her legs and collapsed onto the mattress. In the lamplight he could plainly see the streaks of tears on her cheeks, and his eyes narrowed. ‘What’s all this about, hmm?’ he queried in a softer tone. ‘Did Lucita say something to upset you? I know she’s a little tease at times, but she means no harm.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ Grace gave a bitter laugh. ‘Well, you know her better than me. Do you think I didn’t notice the way you let her put her arms around you tonight?’ He’d been lavishing the Spanish girl with the tender affection that she so desperately craved.
‘I’ve known her since she was a baby!’ Javier said explosively. ‘I suppose I regard her as the little sister I never had.’
‘How sweet! And do you confide in your “sister”, Javier? Do you tell her your most personal secrets—like the reason why you married me?’
‘I’ve told no one,’ he denied forcefully. ‘The only person aware of the stipulations my grandfather made in will is his lawyer, Ramon Aguilar.’
Stipulations—so there had been more than one, Grace noted with a shiver. Lucita hadn’t been lying; the final clause in Carlos Herrera’s will, must have been for Javier to produce an heir before he could secure his place as head of the Herrera bank. Suddenly she felt bone weary and she longed to crawl away to a dark place and lick her wounds. ‘Well, Lucita knows, and you told her.’ She flung the accusation at him. ‘You must have done—how else would she have known?’ she added when he loomed over her, flames of fury dancing in his amber gaze.
‘I thought I could trust you,’ she went on bitterly. ‘But once again my judgement where men are concerned is seriously flawed. Don’t touch me!’ A shudder ran through her and she reared away from him when he tried to drag her into his arms. ‘I want nothing more to do with you, and from now on I’ll be sleeping in my own room until we can end this sham of a marriage.’
‘The hell you will!’ Javier foiled her attempt to scramble off the bed by lifting her off her feet and throwing her down onto the mattress with barely concealed savagery. Before she could react, he came down on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands while the other tore at the laces that fastened the bodice of her dress. ‘You’ve tried and convicted me without allowing me a word in my defence. But I don’t give a damn what you think, querida. You’re mine, bought and paid for, and I’ll dismiss you from my bed when I’m ready, not before.’
‘You can’t do this,’ Graced hissed between her teeth as she struggled wildly beneath him. ‘You … barbarian!’ She gave a cry when he wrenched the front of her dress apart, exposing her small breasts, which to her horror had already swelled in anticipation of his touch so that her nipples stood out as two provocative peaks.
‘Who’s going to stop me?’ Javier said with a harsh laugh.
He dragged her sleeves from her shoulders and pushed her dress down until it bunched around her waist, before skimming his hand over her rib-cage to curl possessively around one soft mound. ‘You, querida?’ he taunted. ‘I don’t think so.’
His mouth curved into a cruel smile as he watched her pupils dilate. The one thing he could be sure of was her desire for him and right now he couldn’t give a damn about anything else. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across one breast, heard her whimper and drew the peak of her nipple fully into his mouth to torment her until she twisted her hips restlessly. Judging the exact moment when her pleasure became unbearable, he transferred his mouth to her other breast and meted the same punishment until she stopped fighting him and dug her nails into his shoulders.
Grace moaned when she felt Javier slide his hand beneath her long skirt and move with unerring precision to the top of her thighs. She was on fire for him, her whole body a limp mass of quivering need, and she was aware of the flood of heat between her legs as her body prepared for his full possession.
‘You won’t stop me, Grace, and we both know why.’ His voice smashed though the haze of sensuality that held her in its thrall and his triumphant tone sent her crashing back down to earth. How could she be so weak that one touch of his skilful hands was enough to have her practically beg him to take her?
‘Why?’ she croaked, finding no hint of softness in his glittering gaze.
‘Because you can’t resist me. Because you need me,’ he said, his eyes glittering with triumph.
For a few seconds her heart actually seemed to stop beating, and she licked her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue.
‘What on earth makes you think that?’ she demanded, striving to sound cool and controlled, and failing miserably.
‘You told me,’ he said simply, watching her eyes cloud with confusion. ‘Not with words, perhaps, but with your actions. Why else would you have come to me in Madrid and begged me to make love to you? You were adamant that you wouldn’t have sex with a man you did not love,’ he reminded her when she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. ‘But you couldn’t deny the fierce passion that burns between us.’
Oh! How could she have been so obvious? She had been so focused on her belief that giving her virginity to him had been the right thing for her to do—because she loved him—that she had given no thought to what he would make of her motives. He must have been secretly laughing at her for months.
Utterly humiliated, her desire drained away, and she shuddered when he dipped his fingers beneath her French knickers and moved inexorably towards the heart of her femininity. She had to stop him before he demolished every last vestige of her pride. Calling on all her reserves, she forced her lips into an amused smile.
‘As ever, Javier, you’re right. You said yourself, lust is a powerful emotion, and I came to you because I felt it
was time I stopped living like a nun. Everyone had gained something from our marriage except me, and I decided to make the most of your reputed skill between the sheets. A reputation that’s well deserved, I might add,’ she drawled, ignoring the smouldering fury in his eyes. ‘You make an excellent stud, Javier.’
‘I’m glad you think so, querida,’ he said pleasantly, but she wasn’t fooled by his smile. Without giving her time to react, he dragged her knickers down her legs and pushed her thighs apart with one firm hand, while the other moved to the zip of his trousers.
‘No!’ Nausea swept through her and she put up her hands to ward him off. Despite everything she’d learned about him tonight, she still loved him—even though the realisation made her question her sanity. She couldn’t bear for him to take her in anger and turn something she found so beautiful into a primitive act of vengeance.
And what about the baby? she thought frantically. After everything Lucita had told her, she didn’t dare reveal to him that she might have conceived his child. She needed some time alone to come to terms with her pregnancy before facing up to the fear that he would want to take her baby from her when he divorced her. ‘Don’t do this, Javier,’ she pleaded as she watched the zip descend. ‘Don’t make me hate you.’
‘You think I care? Love, hate, they’re all the same to me,’ he growled savagely, but as he positioned himself above her, and moved to drag his trousers over his hips, he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes and swore long and hard.
‘Dios Grace, what are you doing to me? I have never taken a woman by force in my life.’ With hands that shook slightly, he refastened his zip and jerked to his feet, his eyes glittering with contempt as he twitched her skirt down over her naked thighs. ‘You couldn’t hate me more than I hate myself,’ he told her in a flat, emotionless voice that belied the shaft of pain in his eyes. ‘I’ve always known that I am unlovable—I was told it enough times,’ he added harshly. ‘How could I have hoped that you were different—that you saw something in me that was not cold and embittered?’
One Night In Collection Page 187