And the worrying thing had been how much that had disturbed him. He had found his pulse rate quickening as he’d approached her flat. The hand that he had raised to knock had been unnervingly unsteady.
Seeing her again last night had revived all the hunger, the passion he had once felt for Isabelle, and he had known that he had to have her back in his life, whatever it took. He didn’t care if she felt anything for him or not. She was the only woman who had ever made him feel this way, and right now that was enough.
‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about?’
From the way his face changed in response to her question, Isabelle knew that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say to her.
‘Luis—what is it?’
The bronze eyes had darkened swiftly, his jaw tightening, and he stopped walking abruptly, turning to face her.
‘I haven’t told you everything,’ he said sombrely. ‘Haven’t told you exactly why you’re here.’
Isabelle felt as if a cruel hand had suddenly closed over her throat, making it difficult to breathe properly.
‘I know why I’m here,’ she managed unevenly. ‘You asked me to come. To travel to Spain with you—as your wife.’
Why did he hesitate? Why had he suddenly hooded his eyes, shaking his dark head?
‘Not exactly,’ he said stiffly.
‘Not exactly?’ Isabelle echoed in confusion. ‘Why? What do you mean? What else is there?’
Luis drew in his breath again harshly, raking one hand through the raven darkness of his hair. And that sigh went straight to Isabelle’s insides, twisting all her nerves in fearful apprehension.
‘Luis! Tell me.’
At last his amber-coloured eyes met hers, fixing her with an intent and unwavering stare.
‘I wanted you to come to Spain with me, yes,’ he said roughly, clearly reluctantly. ‘But not as my wife. I need you to come as my fiancée. To be here as my prospective bride.’
‘Your prospective bride? What is this?’
Isabelle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She could only stare at him in blank bewilderment, struggling to see his expression clearly in the glare of the sun.
‘You have to be joking!’
‘It seems clear enough to me.’
Luis moved into the shade of a nearby tree, leaning back against the width of its trunk, and folded his arms across his chest.
‘My family don’t know I’m married. They don’t even know that you exist. If I turn up with you and say that you’re my wife, that we’ve been married for two years already, it will involve us in a lot of complicated, awkward explanations…’
‘And why would that matter?’
‘My father is ill—seriously ill. He’s supposed to avoid all stress or shock.’
‘Oh, Luis!’
That drew her shocked green eyes to his carefully shuttered face, one hand going out to touch his arm.
‘I’m sorry!’
‘Gracias.’
It was swift, dismissive. He didn’t look as if her sympathy had touched him at all.
‘What…?’
‘Prostate cancer. He’s in remission at the moment, but his time is limited.’
He drew in his breath in a sharp hiss between sharp white teeth.
‘I want to make what time he does have happy. That’s why you’re here. My father wants to see me married—not to find out it’s already happened. And Mother has always dreamed of organising a family wedding. Having the service in the cathedral, the reception in the castle. She had hoped to do so for Diegeo, but…’
‘I heard about the speedboat accident,’ Isabelle inserted quietly when he broke off, his eyes suddenly unfocused. ‘That must have been hard on you all.’
‘Then you will see why I want to present you to them as my new fiancée.’
‘And go through another wedding ceremony? Pretend it’s all happening for the first time—lie through my teeth! I think not!’
‘That’s the way it has to be.’
He was back in aristocratic mode once again. Pure arrogant conquistador from his head to his toes.
‘The way I want it.’
‘The way you want it!’ Isabelle echoed bitterly. ‘And what do you think is going to happen? That you’ll just snap your fingers and I’ll jump to do your bidding like some lowly serf you have honoured to notice. I’m a free woman, Luis! I don’t let anyone else just run my life.’
‘As I’ve learned to my cost,’ he returned sardonically. ‘You made sure the word “obey” was omitted from the wedding service, as I recall. And what I thought was going to happen was that you were prepared to consider the idea. I thought you’d understand my father’s position, the way he feels…’
‘I do! Believe me, I do. But even though I understand—and sympathise—that doesn’t just mean I’m going to fall in with your plans without question.’
‘Would it be so terrible, Isabella?’
‘It’s that—prospective bride bit. It’s a lie.’
‘Only a white lie, querida. Surely in order to make an ill man happy you can salve your conscience for a little while and play a part. If you can convince a bunch of tourists that there are ghosts walking around York…’
‘That’s my job! It’s what I get paid for.’
‘If you want payment—I’ll give you anything you want! Think of it as a job. All I ask is that you do your damnedest to be convincing. I want my father and mother to believe we are the happiest couple on earth.’
‘I’m not that good an actress.’
‘I think you are. I’ve seen you, remember? I watched you last night. You almost had me convinced that some spirit would come creeping out of the walls of that tower.’
‘I was working to a script!’
‘Then I will give you a script!’
Reaching out, he took her hand, drew her very close as he looked down into her shadowed green eyes.
‘You and I met just a few months ago. I was in England on business. You were at a party I was invited to. We looked into each other’s eyes and it was like un trueno—a thunder-clap. We fell in love in an instant. All we want is to be married. As quickly as possible.’
‘Luis…’
She tried to protest, tried to break through the hypnotic spell his voice was weaving around her, but she didn’t have the strength. His words were taking her back into the past. Reminding her of how it had once been.
‘Think about how it once was with us, Isabella.’ Luis bent his proud head, kissed her mouth with heartbreaking softness. ‘It wasn’t so very long ago. Surely you can remember that?’
How could she forget it? It was etched into her memories, branded on her heart. It had been all she had ever dreamed of. And now it was what she wanted back most in all the world.
And when he looked at her like that, when the husky, enticing tones of his softly accented voice pleaded with her to do as he asked, she was helpless, soft as wax in his hands.
‘All—all right, I’ll…’ she began shakily, but Luis didn’t give her a chance to complete her sentence. Lacing his fingers in hers, he squeezed her hand tight.
‘It’s not so very far from the truth,’ he told her, leading her up the remainder of the drive and into the stone-flagged courtyard of the castle.
But almost immediately it was as if the shadows cast by the high walls had fallen over Isabelle’s heart. Her steps slowed, coming to a complete halt as she looked up at the huge, carved oak door.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t think I can.’
‘Por Dios, why the hell not? You’ve come this far, you can’t back out now.’
‘But I don’t think I can go through with it.’
‘Of course you can.’
He dismissed her fears with an arrogant little flick of his hand.
‘But if you want a little help…’
Before she knew what was coming, he had reached out and caught hold of her arm. Swinging her round, he brought her up close to him
, held tight against the hard wall of his chest.
‘This should do it,’ he muttered roughly as his head came down, his mouth taking hers hard and fast, crushing her lips underneath his.
The world seemed to swing around her, her thoughts filling with a buzzing haze. The warmth of the sun was as nothing when compared to the heat that was flooding her body, making her heart pound fiercely, setting her blood throbbing in her veins.
She responded instinctively, urgent hands clutching at his powerful shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle underneath the fine cotton of his navy shirt. Her mouth opened under his, allowing, and hungrily responding to the tantalising dance of provocation of his tongue. Her pliant body arched towards his, glorying in the feeling of his male strength against her own, and electric thrill sparking in every nerve as she felt the heated pressure of his erection against the softness of her pelvis. Hard hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her even closer.
When Luis finally released her, she was breathing hard and unevenly. Her scalp tingled where his hands had twisted in her hair, and she knew that her face was flushed, her eyes over-bright as if she had a fever.
Which she did, she admitted to herself. Luis was like a fever in her blood, a fatal addiction. She would never be free of him, and, if the truth was told, she never wanted to be. He was all she had ever dreamed of in a man.
‘There…’
Luis’s voice was rich with dark satisfaction, a tiger’s purr of pleasure.
‘Now you look like a newly engaged fiancée. A woman hopelessly in love with the man she has agreed to marry.’
Of course she did, Isabelle admitted to herself. She looked that way because she really was that woman. There was no point in trying to deny it, or hide it from herself any longer.
The one thing and the one alone that had brought her here was the fact that her love for Luis had never died. The flame of it still burned deep inside her heart, unwavering and unquenchable, in spite of all their years apart.
‘And, Isabella—’
But whatever Luis had been about to say went unfinished. His words were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind the heavy door, the buzz of puzzled Spanish reaching them vaguely through the solid wood.
‘My family,’ he said abruptly. ‘They heard the car and they’ve grown tired of waiting so they’ve come looking for us. Ready?’
Isabelle could only shake her head, a terrible sense of apprehension freezing her tongue and making her breath catch in her throat.
‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Luis actually sounded as if he understood, the gentleness in his voice knocking her right off balance. ‘They won’t bite.’
‘But what if they don’t like me?’
Her voice shook with the strain of controlling her real fears. She had come here in the hope of reviving what she and Luis had once had, of convincing him that he had been wrong to believe she could ever be unfaithful to him. But what if he never changed his mind? What if he never ever loved her again?
‘How could they not like you?’ he asked now. ‘All they ask for is that you make me happy. And you will.’
‘I will? How—?’
But she couldn’t finish the question because at that moment the door was pulled open and a tall, black-haired woman appeared, her arms outstretched in welcome.
‘Luis, welcome home. And this—is this lovely young woman your fiancée?’
‘Sí Mama.’
Luis moved forwards, one strong arm snaking round Isabelle’s waist, taking her with him.
‘Isabella, come and meet my mother…’
Desperate to hide her nervousness, Isabelle switched on a smile that she prayed looked genuine. But it faltered, almost disappearing as Luis bent his dark head until his mouth was close to her ear.
‘You know only too well how to make me happy, mi angel,’ he whispered, warm breath feathering over her skin. ‘Just as I know exactly how to please you. And if you’re good, I’ll prove it to you tonight.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ISABELLE leaned her arms on the wide stone sill of the castle’s arched windows and stared out at the darkened landscape, a low despondent sigh escaping her. She felt lost and isolated, a crazy, inexplicable feeling in a place full of people, but the truth was that she had never known loneliness like it.
She didn’t know who she was or where she belonged any more. She was Luis’s wife and yet here, amongst his family, she was only his fiancée. The duque and duquesa had welcomed her into their home, treated her like an honoured guest, but she knew that her presence here was just a pretence, that she was deceiving them by pretending to be something she was not. And Luis…
The sigh deepened. The truth was that she just didn’t really know how Luis saw her.
A soft sound of a knock at the door startled her, bringing her head up sharply.
‘Who is it?’
‘Your fiancé of course.’ Even through the thickness of the door, the irony in Luis’s tone was clear. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘I wasn’t expecting anyone,’ Isabelle protested as she wrenched open the door. ‘Least of all you. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m performing my duties as your host,’ he drawled sardonically, black straight brows lifting in disapproval at her tone. ‘I came to see if you were comfortable and your room was okay.’
She couldn’t look him in the face, every heightened sense was too aware of him for that. He was still wearing the trousers of the elegant silver grey silk suit he had changed into for dinner, but he had discarded the jacket somewhere. The fine linen of his white shirt clung softly to the firm lines of his torso, emphasising the width of chest and broad straight shoulders. He had tugged his tie loose at the neck, unfastening a couple of buttons, and the immaculate colour seemed to glow vividly against the smooth tanned skin of his throat.
‘Luis, you’ve seen my flat. You know that compared to that this…’ her gesture took in the elegantly furnished room with a genuine four-poster bed, thick rose-coloured carpet and curtains ‘…is total luxury. I couldn’t be more comfortable.’
‘You’re quite sure you have everything you need.’
‘I’m perfectly fine! You don’t even have to ask that! Good-night.’
To emphasise the point, she tried to shut the door in his face, only to find the movement prevented by the swift insertion of one elegantly booted foot into the open space.
‘I also thought you might like a nightcap.’
He lifted a hand to display a bottle of red wine and two glasses hooked between his fingers.
‘Something to relax you.’
‘I think not.’
‘It’s from our own vineyards,’ he continued imperturbably, obviously unconcerned by her unwelcoming tone. ‘I think you’d enjoy it.’
‘And what would your parents think to that?’
Luis affected a pretence of not understanding, widening his eyes in a display of innocence.
‘Think to what, querida?’
‘To your being here, alone, with me at this time of night. Wouldn’t they think—?’
‘They wouldn’t expect anything else,’ Luis inserted smoothly, flooring her completely. ‘We are, after all, man and wife.’
‘But your parents don’t know that!’
‘They know that we are engaged, and they are modern minded enough to know that very few couples actually wait until they’ve exchanged vows before they share a bed together.’
‘But all the same…’
Her grip on the door had loosened a little, her concentration wavering. Luis took full advantage of the situation by pushing it wider and slipping in through the open space. Strolling across the room, he deposited the bottle and glasses on the bedside table, pulled a corkscrew from his pocket and set about stripping the foil from the bottle with swift efficiency.
‘My parents, amada, would be very surprised, not to say concerned, if we didn’t want to spend some time alone together, particularly at this new
and very special stage in our relationship.’
He didn’t look her in the eyes as he spoke, his attention apparently on opening the bottle, extracting the cork as smoothly and skilfully as possible.
‘They believe we have just become engaged. That we are madly in love with each other.’
‘And we both know that that couldn’t be further from the truth!’ Uncertainty and tension pushed the words from her mouth.
Luis’s busy hands stilled suddenly, his whole body freezing into immobility in a way that made her heart clench sharply. But a moment later he had returned to his task, apparently focusing only on that and nothing else.
‘Is that a fact?’ he drawled at last, his words punctuated by the faint pop as the cork finally slid from the bottle.
Isabelle’s heart, which had started to relax, tightened up again, more fearfully this time, as she tried to interpret just what his tone of voice might mean.
‘Here, taste this.’
Luis was pleased with his tone, the smoothness of his voice. He hadn’t missed a beat, covering his reaction to that ill-timed comment.
So what had he expected? That she would have come right out with a declaration of love? He’d have to be dreaming for that to happen. And he’d never thought of himself as a dreamer. All his life he’d lived on purely pragmatic terms—except once, when he’d fallen hopelessly and totally in love with this woman. Insanely in love, because he’d never fully recovered his wits since.
There, he’d admitted it to himself at last. Ever since that moment in York when he’d seen her coming towards him, dressed in that spectacular gown, he’d known he wasn’t over her. The sensation of being kicked in the gut he could explain away as a purely physical reaction—though his thoughts had been at the opposite extreme to pure. But it was the absurd and impossible lifting of his heart that had told him he was in deep trouble.
‘It’s delicious.’
Isabelle’s voice seemed to come from a long distance away, forcing him to drag his attention back to the moment.
‘I thought you’d like it.’
Did she know how the rich ruby colour of the wine had stained her mouth, emphasising the soft fullness of her lower lip? The memory of how sweet that mouth had tasted, how it had opened invitingly under his kiss, instantly triggered his body’s response so that he had to swing away to stare out of the window until he could get himself back under control.
Society Weddings Page 14