A DEAL AT THE ALTAR

by RACHL THOMAS

  ‘Santos!’ she gasped in shock. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious, querida.’ As she lay beside him on the bed, her breathing faster, her breasts rising and falling in the most erotic way, he pulled the belt undone and pushed aside the silk, exposing her delicious body. ‘I’m going to make love to my wife.’

  Those words lit a raging fire inside him.

  Unable to analyse those feelings now, he silenced her with a kiss so hard and deep he almost couldn’t breathe. His need for her was far greater than last night—as if now he’d tasted her he needed more, like some kind of addict. Her hands explored his body, pushing aside the sheet and touching him until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Urgently he pushed her back against the bed, covering her body with his as he thrust hard and deep within her delicious warmth.

  It was as if his whole world rocked as he climaxed, relishing the feeling of being deep inside her. She cried out, her body arching towards him as she too found release. As his heartrate slowed and his mind regained the ability to think he realised he’d done the one thing he’d never done before. Early-morning sex. It gave women the wrong message. Made them think he wanted more.

  But Georgina was already his wife. What more could she want from him?

  He lay back, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, his breathing and heart-rate finally returning to normal, and contemplated what had happened. Because something had changed, but he just couldn’t understand what.

  * * *

  ‘I’ll just go and shower.’ More vulnerable than ever, Georgina wanted to put a little distance between herself and this man’s magnetism.

  ‘Don’t be too long, querida.’ He smiled at her, sending her senses into a spin as her heart flipped over.

  Instead of answering him, she slipped from the bed with a bold teasing smile, grabbed her abandoned dressing gown and headed for the bathroom.

  How on earth was she going to cope with today after what they’d shared last night? Would his rule of no pretence continue into the first day of their married life, or would he return to being the arrogant and controlling man she knew he was?

  The hot water of the shower did little to ease her worries and she knew she had to talk to Emma. Just to hear her sister’s voice would reaffirm why she’d married Santos.

  With a towel wrapped round her body she emerged from the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. Quickly she reached into the wardrobe for her bag and pulled out her phone to see Emma had sent her a message.

  OMG Georgie! You and Santos!

  As she read the text from her sister she could almost hear her voice, the laughter in it—relief, even—and quickly she called Emma.

  ‘Georgie!’ Emma’s excited voice was so vibrant it was as if it was on loudspeaker.

  ‘Emma, I so wish you could be here, but...’ Georgina swallowed. The first lie was about to leave her lips. ‘We just had to get away and be alone.’

  ‘You’re really happy?’

  ‘Do you think I’d jet off to Spain if not? After all that I’ve been through?’ Thoughts of Richard mixed with the lies she was telling, the web of deceit she was spinning. It’s for Emma, she reassured herself.

  ‘Then I’m happy for you—but can you do one thing for me?’

  ‘Anything for you, Emma.’ That at least was true.

  ‘Don’t come back just yet. Carlo and I... Well, we’re going to arrange our wedding, and if Santos finds out he’s sure to put a stop to it. He’s so against us getting married.’

  Georgina swallowed hard. She should tell Emma. Instead she lightened her voice. ‘We’re enjoying our time together.’ Was that a lie? she wondered as her body warmed at the memory of last night—her wedding night. ‘Do you really think we’re going to rush back to London?’

  As she ended the call she let out a big sigh—relief that her sister and Carlo were now actually able to plan their wedding. She wished she’d been able to tell Emma that Santos was now her brother-in-law, but that was the kind of news to tell her face to face, when they got back to London.

  Anxiety rose up. Just how was she going to convince Santos that heading back to reality was not what he wanted to do?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SUN WAS HOT by the time Georgina came up on deck, to find Santos relaxing, an empty coffee cup on the table. She hadn’t yet seen him look quite this relaxed before, so at ease with life.

  As if aware of her presence he turned to face her, and she wanted to hug her arms about her body, to shield herself from his appraising gaze. Instead she fought the urge, and when the wind blew the sheer kaftan against her like a second skin, revealing the tiny blue bikini she’d reluctantly put on, she walked towards him. As confident as any of the top models he’d dated, she smiled.

  ‘It’s so wonderful out here, away from everybody. I’d love to stay a bit longer.’ She slid seductively into the seat opposite him, nerves tingling all over her body.

  Anxiety, she told herself, refusing to acknowledge the fact that it was Santos who did that to her.

  He looked past her briefly and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But a moment later a tray of breakfast and fresh coffee arrived. The crew were obviously back on board. Once they were alone again he turned his attention to her, his dark eyes sparkling like the sea in the morning sun.

  ‘There would be one condition.’ He poured coffee, the aroma reminding her of how little she’d eaten last night.

  ‘And that would be...?’ Her voice was flirty—the exact opposite of how she felt.

  ‘The same as last night.’

  ‘Last night...’ she breathed, in a husky echo of his words as her body responded to the memory of his touch, his kisses.

  He smiled, a dangerously seductive smile, and she all but melted. ‘No pretence.’

  ‘None at all?’ She teased him with a coy smile, her fingers twining in her hair.

  ‘I like the real Georgie.’ He leant forward in his seat, his brows lifting suggestively. ‘The Georgina you don’t let the world see.’

  She laughed a nervous laugh that made him smile even more, which in turn sent her heart thumping erratically. ‘You make me sound fake—as if I’m a total fraud.’

  ‘Not fake,’ he said, and passed her a coffee.

  She sipped it, thankful for something to do other than look into his handsome face.

  ‘Just scared to let anyone know the real you.’

  His words hit her with the precision of a marksman. Not letting the world see the real Georgina was just what she’d tried to do for the last five years. For so long that sometimes she forgot who she really was—forgot the woman with dreams of happiness. No, going there wasn’t an option.

  ‘Well, I guess we’ll just have to spend time together—get to know one another a bit better.’ She sipped her coffee and looked out at the sea, its ever-moving waves sparkling like diamonds, before turning her attention back to him.

  ‘Exactamente.’

  His gaze held hers, dark and passionate, sending shivers down her spine, and she wondered if she could do this. But if Emma was to stand any chance of making her wedding arrangements in peace she had to ensure they stayed in Spain.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, alarmed at how husky her voice had suddenly become, how easily she could slip into the role of seductress.

  ‘We’ll sail further along the coast. There is a secluded cove we can stop at—a good place to swim in the sea.’

  He smiled at her again. Her heart flipped over and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Perhaps it wouldn’t be hard, keeping him occupied, because she really did want to. He was so very different from the man she’d first met in his office, the man her sister had talked of. This man consumed her very soul—made her want him and the dreams she’d long since forgotten.

  ‘I’d like that.’ A blush crept over her cheeks as she met his gaze before it slid down over her body, taking in all that the bikini did very little to hide.

  ‘For my beautifu
l bride—anything.’ He stood and leant down over her, his lips hovering tantalisingly close to hers as she looked up at him.

  His breath was warm on her face and she resisted the need to close her eyes, wanting to see his. With excruciating slowness he brought his lips down onto hers, the sensation sending sparks of awareness all over her until she could only close her eyes, give in to the pleasure of his lips as they brushed gently over hers.

  The kiss ended and he stood upright, dominating the sheltered outside area of the yacht. ‘I will go and make arrangements while you enjoy breakfast.’

  She watched him stride away, his casual jeans hugging his long legs to perfection. She shook her head briefly, trying to stop the images of last night, memories of his tanned body against her pale skin.

  In a bid to quell her rising desire she turned her attention to the breakfast, not sure if she could eat anything. But the array of fresh fruit and the lure of warm croissants soon won her appetite over.

  She became aware of the coastline receding, the yacht moving smoothly through gently rolling waves. Excitement fizzed inside her. It was like being young again.

  She’d been happy before life had plunged her into a situation she really hadn’t wanted. Her whole outlook on life had been carefree and full of adventure until the night her father had left. Now those memories were the reason she’d promised herself she’d never have children—because what would happen if she became like her mother? What would happen if she too went from one man to the next, looking endlessly for something that didn’t exist, ignoring her children to the point of neglect?

  ‘Why so sad, querida?’

  Santos’s accented voice shattered her thoughts as surely as if she’d been viewing them through a mirror.

  ‘I was just remembering.’ Quickly she tried to hide her emotions, recreate the impenetrable wall she hid behind, because right now her defences were low. Too low. And Santos was watching her with such unexpected sympathy she almost couldn’t look at him.

  ‘We all have things we shouldn’t remember, but sometimes it helps to talk.’

  His tone was soothing and reassuring. He sat next to her, taking her hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it gently. His concern as genuine as a lover’s. She wanted to pull away, to distance herself from him. She felt utterly exposed, as if every emotion was completely visible to him.

  ‘It was just my excitement as I realised the yacht was moving,’ she said, aware of the hoarseness in her voice. ‘It’s like being young again.’

  He nodded once, his eyes full of understanding. ‘What happened?’

  ‘My mother found solace in the bottle after my father left.’ Her heart thumped hard as pent-up anger flowed through her like a tidal wave—one that couldn’t be halted now as it roared towards the shore. ‘I had no choice but to care for Emma, try and shield her from it all. I had to grow up very quickly.’

  ‘Shield her from what, Georgie?’

  She looked up at him. His voice was now hard and controlled, his eyes narrowed and his brows pulling together in concentration.

  She shouldn’t be telling him this. It had nothing to do with him, and would serve no purpose whatsoever, but it was liberating to finally share it with someone.

  ‘What was it, Georgina?’ he urged as her silence lengthened.

  He reached out and pushed back the hair from her face and she dropped her gaze, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. How could a man as ruthless and in control as Santos possibly understand?

  ‘Tell me, Georgie.’

  One hand stroked her hair whilst the other held firmly onto her hand. She had no means of escape, no way out.

  What would he think of her if she told him?

  ‘At first she was just incapable of looking after us—that was unless she was in the throes of a new affair—but soon it was down to me to get Emma to school, to put a meal on the table.’

  He stopped stroking her hair, his hand resting on her shoulder, warm and comforting. ‘Go on.’

  Those first words had unleashed all her hurt and she knew she should stop. She shrugged, not wanting to allow him any closer emotionally.

  ‘So I got out as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I had to. It was the only way of keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table. Any money my mother had was spent on what she considered important—not on what actually was, like food and rent.’

  He sat back from her, his hands falling to his thighs, silent for a moment as he took in what she’d said. ‘That opportunity being your marriage to Richard Henshaw?’ His voice was hard, a slight growl in his throat.

  She looked up at him. He really did think she’d married purely for the money and status Richard had given her. Words of defence were on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her, froze them as if the warm sea breeze had changed to a bitter winter wind. Instead she wanted to tell him—wanted him to know.

  ‘He offered me everything I wanted—and more.’

  She sat taller in her seat and looked him in the eye. For a moment she’d almost told him the truth—told him how Richard had literally rescued her, offering her security for Emma and asking for nothing other than that she took his name. But sense had prevailed. If he wanted to think of her as a gold-digging socialite then he could.

  ‘And, yes,’ she added, with the haughty tone she knew made her sound so like the woman he thought she was resounding in her voice, ‘I married him for his money and his status. But you can’t accuse me of hiding that from you. Not when it is common knowledge.’

  * * *

  Santos’s stomach hardened as his breath came fast. He clenched his teeth against an attack of jealousy as he imagined Georgina with another man—one she’d just admitted she’d had no feelings for. She hadn’t attempted to hide the fact that she’d used a man who must have known he was ill when he married her.

  She’d used Richard and she sat there now with the innocence of a child and waited for his reaction. He was angry with himself—angry at the irrational jealousy that raged inside him just thinking of her with another man. She was his wife, and what he felt for her now surpassed anything he’d felt for previous lovers.

  ‘We all have a past, querida.’ He kept his tone as nonchalant as possible, regretting having started the conversation. He’d known of her reputation when he’d agreed to their ludicrous deal, so why did it matter so much?

  Control, he reminded himself. Whatever happened he had to be in control, and for a moment there he’d almost lost it—almost given in to the temptations of the devil. This whole episode was about getting what he wanted, not about emotions. Never emotions.

  He stood up and walked to the side of the yacht, checking their location, almost relieved to see they had arrived at his chosen bay. He breathed deeply, enjoying the salty tang in his mouth, trying to revitalise himself before he turned back to look at the woman who was now his wife.

  ‘Yes, we do. Including you.’

  The accusation in her voice was clear and he couldn’t help but smile at her pretence at fury. Her expression was severe, but her eyes were telling a different story.

  ‘It’s called life, Georgie.’ He put out a hand and stepped towards her. ‘And right now ours is for living. What about a swim in the sea? Wash all your troubles away?’

  For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Confusion furrowed her brow, then she regained her composure, took his hand and smiled up at him, openly flirting.

  ‘A swim sounds delicious.’

  Delicious. She was delicious, with the wind wrapping the almost see-through kaftan close to her glorious body, the blue bikini showcasing just what a figure she had. Lust thudded in his veins and he cursed his wayward thoughts.

  ‘Something wrong?’ A hint of a playful smile tugged her full lips up at the corners.

  She knew exactly what was wrong, damn her.

  ‘No. Unless it’s wrong for a man to want to drag his wife back to bed instead of going swimming?’ His voice was deep and guttu
ral with the effort of reining in his libido.

  She blushed and, as he had many times in the last few days, he wondered how she managed that little trick—how she managed to appear so innocent. ‘I think we should swim first. It’s not even midday yet.’

  First.

  She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her darkening eyes were smouldering, giving him the message, setting fire to the embers of desire that had scorched his body last night. Never before had a woman affected him so much, made him want her so badly—but then never before had he had to wait so long to get a woman into his bed. And he certainly hadn’t had to marry her to do so.

  The irony of it wasn’t lost on him as he felt her hand in his. It felt surprisingly good, as if it was right. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he managed, despite the heat that raged within him. A swim in cold water was exactly what he needed.

  He led her to the platform that had been lowered once the yacht was anchored and slipped off his deck shoes. Her gaze heated his blood as he pulled off his shirt, the sun instantly warm on his skin.

  ‘Not joining me?’ he teased, tugging off his jeans, amused by the blush that crept over her cheeks as her gaze slid down his body, resting on the evidence of just how aroused he had become at her loaded promise of what was to follow their swim.

  The air crackled around them, their attraction as overpowering as if he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t tasted her skin or made her his. It was like the first time all over again, with anticipation raging in him like a bull.

  He dived into the blue waters, and the rush of cold over his body was just what he needed. As he broke the surface he wiped water from his face and looked back up at Georgina, now sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water, wearing only that very sexy blue bikini.

  ‘It’s cold!’

  She laughed, her face lighting up, giving her an air of playful innocence, tugging at something deep within him.