‘Grace, I don’t deserve your gentleness,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re the one who should get some sleep—you’re flying to England tomorrow.’
‘Do you mean you’re sending me away? But why?’ she faltered as her imagination leapt into overdrive. Was he sick of her and her principles and wanted her out of the way so that he could bring his mistress to the castle?
‘It’s only for a week.’ His brows lowered in a puzzled frown at her obvious distress. ‘I know how much you miss your father and I’d arranged for us both to visit him, but I can’t leave Luca like this.’
‘Of course not, but we could postpone the trip until he’s better.’ Relief flooded through Grace and she offered him a tentative smile.
‘I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that it’s Angus’s birthday in a few days. When I spoke to your aunt, she told me how much he’s looking forward to seeing you.’ Javier smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘You can’t let him down, querida.’
No, she couldn’t let him down, Grace acknowledged, but if she was honest her mind had been so full of Javier that she had forgotten all about her father’s birthday. ‘When do I leave?’ she asked quietly.
‘Early tomorrow. You’d better go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but as she reached the door the sound of his voice halted her.
‘Grace! You will come back?’ The expression in his eyes was unfathomable, but she noted the faint colour delineating his sharp cheekbones.
‘Of course I will,’ she promised softly. ‘We made a deal—remember?’
But the question of how she would live without him when their marriage contract expired tormented her for the rest of the night, and when Torres drove her away from the castle the next morning she couldn’t hide her unhappiness. Autumn had obviously decided to pay an early visit to England’s south coast, Grace decided on the fifth day of leaden skies and torrential rain. She stared out of the window of Aunt Pam’s guesthouse at the flooded lawn, and thought wistfully of the exotic palms and grasses that thrived in the gardens of El Castillo de Leon.
She couldn’t wait to go back, she admitted, although her impatience had little to do with Granada’s warm sunshine—she would happily live in the Arctic as long as she was with Javier.
‘Checkmate!’ Angus Beresford announced happily, lifting his head to glance at her over the rims of his spectacles. ‘Something tells me your mind wasn’t fully on the game, sweetie.’
‘I’ve never been able to beat you at chess, Dad,’ Grace replied with a smile. ‘Mum was always a better opponent than me.’
Angus was silent for a moment and then slowly returned her smile. ‘Yes, she could beat me hollow, bless her.’
Grace caught her breath. It was practically the first time since Susan Beresford’s death that she’d been able to bring her name into the conversation. Before, she had always avoided any mention of her mother for fear of sending her father into a deep depression that would last for days. But now, with the help of a bereavement counsellor, Angus was finally coming to terms with the loss of the woman he had fallen in love with at first sight.
There was still a way to go, she realised as she leant forwards and kissed Angus on the cheek. He would continue to take medication for clinical depression for many months yet. Susan’s death had plunged him into the depths of despair, and for a little while he had truly lost his mind. There were still great gaps in his memory, and she was sure he recalled few details of his last year as manager of the bank, or his desperate attempts to deal with his escalating financial problems.
She certainly wasn’t going to remind him, Grace thought protectively. Thanks to Javier, Angus was free from prosecution, he was no longer in debt and he was safe and cared for with Aunt Pam. She was determined that he would never learn the price she had paid for his freedom—a year of her life given to a man she despised.
But of course she didn’t despise Javier, she acknowledged painfully. It was impossible to think she had ever hated him when her love for him filled her heart to overflowing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the peal of the doorbell, followed by excited yapping from Aunt Pam’s three terriers. ‘Come on, Misty, into the kitchen—and you, Moppet, and stop chewing my slippers. Grace, do you think you could get the door?’ came her aunt’s faintly desperate plea.
Trying not to smile, Grace hurried down the hall and opened the front door. Her heart almost leapt from her chest when she stared into a familiar golden-eyed gaze. ‘Javier…What—what are you doing here?’ she stammered, filled with sudden dread. ‘Luca…?’
‘Is recovering quicker than even the vet predicted,’ he swiftly reassured her. ‘I’m here to take you home, of course,’ he told her with a flash of the haughty arrogance she knew so well. But the warmth in his eyes, the flare of hunger that he couldn’t disguise, told her he was not as in control of his emotions as he would like her to believe. ‘I’ve decided that my wife has been away long enough.’
‘But you knew I was coming back tomorrow. You arranged my flight,’ she said dazedly, struggling to think when the sight of him seemed to have turned her brain to the consistency of cotton wool. He was wearing faded denims and a black leather jacket that emphasised the width of his broad shoulders. His hair needed cutting and curled over his collar, and his jaw was shaded with dark stubble, as if his trip to England had been a mad impulse and he’d been in too much of a hurry to shave.
‘Patience has never been my strong point,’ he drawled with a complete lack of remorse. ‘My private jet is waiting on the runway at the local airport—go and get your things.’
‘You mean you want to leave right now? But I’m not packed or anything. What is this really about, Javier?’ Grace demanded, her voice thick with hurt. ‘Did you think I might break our deal? I gave you my word that I’d come back to you, but you obviously don’t trust me.’
‘It’s not a question of trust,’ he growled, his smile fading as he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
‘Then why the sudden urgency?’ she muttered. ‘You look as though you fell out of bed this morning straight onto the plane.’
He shrugged and suddenly seemed determined to avoid her gaze. ‘The urgency is because we’ve spent almost a month apart. I was held up in Madrid for longer than planned and then you came here to celebrate your father’s birthday.’ Incredibly, he appeared embarrassed as his eyes briefly met hers and quickly veered away. ‘I…missed you.’
‘Oh!’ A choir of angels burst into song inside Grace’s head and she gave him a shy smile. ‘I…missed you too,’ she whispered. She stared at him, willing him to look at her, and her heart began to pound when his mouth curved into a slow, sensual smile that promised heaven.
‘Grace…’ He looked deep into her eyes and she quivered as a current of electricity arced between them.
‘Yes?’ she murmured breathlessly.
‘Do you think I could come in out of the rain before I drown?’
‘Oh! Yes, of course. I’m so sorry!’ Cheeks flaming, she stepped back and ushered him into the hall. He was so wet that water ran in rivulets down his face and he lifted a hand to slick his dripping hair from his brow. ‘You’re soaked to the skin—here, let me help you take off your clothes,’ she fussed, tugging at his jacket.
‘I’m all yours, querida—be gentle with me,’ he teased, his eyes dancing with amusement at her flushed face. ‘But I’m not sure you should strip me in the hall. Your aunt may not approve.’
‘You really are the devil’s own, Javier Herrera,’ Grace told him crossly, her brief spurt of temper lost beneath the tumultuous pleasure of his mouth hungrily claiming hers. When he hauled her up against the hard length of his body, she clung to him, uncaring that his wet clothes were soaking through her thin shirt. She was on fire for him. A familiar ache started low in her stomach, and when he cupped her breast in his hand she moaned and strained against him, wishing that they really could dispense with
their things so that she could feel him, skin on skin.
‘Come home with me, Grace—you belong with me,’ he muttered hoarsely when at last he lifted his head and traced the swollen contours of her lips with his thumb pad.
Was he referring to the terms of their marriage contract? Suddenly it no longer seemed to matter, Grace thought softly. All she cared about was being with the man she loved—for however long he wanted her. And, giving him a smile that pierced his soul, she hurried up the stairs to pack.
Chapter 10
‘I have to be in Madrid for a few days,’ Javier told Grace when he parked in the underground car park of his apartment block and ushered her into the lift. ‘I thought you might like to spend some time in the city before we return to the castillo.’
She didn’t mind where she was as long as she was with Javier, Grace thought silently, hoping that her cool smile disguised the frantic excitement that had been building inside her since she’d stepped aboard his private jet. She’d missed him during the few weeks they’d spent apart, but it was only now, as she studied the harsh planes of his face, that she realised just how much she had ached for him.
How would she ever survive without him? she wondered fearfully as they travelled up in the lift. Nine months from now their contract would expire and they would go their separate ways, but she would never be free of him. Her soul had recognised him as her other half, and when they parted she would spend the rest of her life feeling incomplete.
‘It’s getting late and you must be tired—you’ve spent most of the day in the air,’ she murmured, glancing at him across the large and rather soulless lounge. ‘Where did you put my case? In the master bedroom, I suppose,’ she added, a tremor running through her at the thought of sharing his bed once more. She’d never slept with him at the apartment, and the thought of staring up at the mirror above his bed and watching the reflection of his golden limbs caused liquid heat to flood through her veins. Surely tonight he would follow up the promise in his eyes and take her into his arms, rather than keeping strictly to his side of the mattress?
Javier strolled over to the bar and offered her a drink. When she shook her head he poured a measure of whisky into a glass and gulped it down. ‘I put your bag in the bedroom at the end of the hall, where you slept before.’ He paused fractionally and then continued, ‘From now on I’ve decided you will sleep in your own room, both here and at the castillo.’
Grace felt her heart plummet to her toes at his unexpected statement. ‘I see,’ she murmured, not seeing at all. What had she done wrong? He couldn’t have made it clearer that he no longer wanted her, and she must have been mistaken when she’d thought she’d seen desire in his eyes.
Javier seemed to be fascinated by the night-time view over Madrid and stared resolutely out of the window. ‘I was wrong to demand that you share my bed…or to expect you to sacrifice the values that are so important to you,’ he told her harshly. ‘You’ll have to put it down to the fact that I’ve never met a woman with principles before—but then, you’re not like other women, are you, querida?’ He turned his head then and his mouth curved into a smile that did not reach his eyes as he absorbed her stunned expression.
‘I can’t claim to share your blind faith in everlasting love and fairy-tale happy endings, but I’ve realised that I have no right to try and destroy your beliefs, or to spoil your sweet innocence with my cynicism. For the remainder of our marriage, I promise that you will spend every night in the privacy of your own room.’
Grace blinked at him, lost for words. ‘Thank you,’ she croaked at last. He was obviously expecting her to be pleased with the new sleeping arrangements, and her pride wouldn’t allow her to reveal that she was devastated at the prospect of losing the intimacy they’d once shared.
‘You don’t look very happy. What’s wrong now?’ he queried, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sudden droop of her mouth.
‘I was simply curious about your sudden change of heart,’ she muttered. ‘I assume it has something to do with your mistress staying here with you while you left me behind in Granada?’
His brows rose fractionally. ‘I don’t have a mistress.’
‘Oh, come on, I may be innocent but I’m not stupid. On each occasion I phoned you, a woman answered my call—and it wasn’t Lucita,’ she added sharply, unable to disguise the sick jealousy in her voice.
‘No, Lucita’s staying with her cousin on the other side of town,’ Javier agreed equably. ‘The only woman who has been here is Pilar—my housekeeper,’ he explained when Grace frowned.
‘I see.’ She recalled with sudden, stark clarity the moment she had let herself into Richard Quentin’s flat and discovered him in bed with his housekeeper. Then she had been devastated by the cruel betrayal of the man she had believed she loved, but now, as she imagined Javier rolling around on the sheets with the exotic beauty who staffed his apartment, she wanted to be sick. ‘Pilar—is she as gorgeous as her name and voice portray?’ she said thickly. ‘Does she take care of your every whim, Javier?’
‘She’s certainly a good cook,’ he replied, clearly puzzled by her hostility. ‘But I fear that her arthritis is getting so bad that she’ll soon want to retire and move in with her daughter and grandchildren. She’s staying there now for a few days,’ he added helpfully. ‘But she made your bed up before she left.’
‘Right.’ Grace wished she could crawl away and hide under a stone. ‘Thank you for making that clear. I think I’d better go to bed before I embarrass myself any further. Goodnight,’ she said stiffly and groaned silently at the glimmering amusement in his eyes.
‘Goodnight, querida—sleep well,’ he bade her in a teasing voice that made her squirm with mortification, and with a brisk nod she hurried down the hall to her room.
Moving like an automaton, Grace showered, blow-dried her hair and slid into bed where she eventually fell into a restless sleep. She woke the hour before dawn, and as the memory of the wild accusations she had flung at Javier returned she groaned and dragged a pillow over her head. How could she have been so stupid? Thanks to her childish outburst of jealousy, she must have given the game away. By now Javier would have put two and two together and realised that she had feelings for him.
And what feelings! she acknowledged dismally. Since the moment she’d set eyes on him at Aunt Pam’s, her traitorous body had been clamouring for him to appease the feverish passion that only he could arouse. She wanted him so much that desire pulsed through her veins in a slow, slumberous beat until her entire body throbbed with need.
With a groan of frustration she threw back the covers and padded into the bathroom, hoping that a cold drink would cool her scorching temperature. The sight of her reflection made her gasp, and she stared at her glazed, heavy-lidded eyes and the moistness of her full, slightly parted lips with a sense of inevitability. In Javier she had found her destiny—albeit a brief one, she conceded painfully, thinking of the divorce he would insist upon in nine months’ time. But she loved him. The promises she had made on her wedding day hadn’t been lies, she’d meant every word she’d said—although she hadn’t realised it at the time. She would love Javier in sickness and in health for the rest of her life, and she longed to honour him with her body every night for the remaining months of their marriage.
Without giving her doubts time to regroup, she hurried down the hall like a silent wraith and hovered outside his bedroom door, her heart pounding so loud that she was surprised the whole apartment block didn’t shake. He would be asleep, she reassured herself. And, when he awoke and discovered her lying next to him, she would tell him that she must have been sleepwalking. The chemistry between them wasn’t only on her side—all her feminine instincts told her that he still wanted her, despite his declaration that they would occupy separate beds from now on. With any luck he would take her into his arms before he was properly awake, and then who knew what might happen?
Cautiously she pushed open the door and her heart stood still when a pair of
honey-coloured eyes focused on her from across the room.
‘Grace! Is something wrong?’
So much for him being asleep, she thought ruefully. He was propped up on the pillows, the sheet draped over his hips, leaving his chest and taut stomach bare to her feverish gaze. The powerful muscles of his abdomen rippled as he shifted position, and she couldn’t prevent her eyes from straying to the mass of dark hairs that arrowed down his torso and disappeared beneath the sheet. Sinfully sexy and wide awake, his raw male beauty made her feel weak and she licked her lips nervously.
‘Nothing’s wrong, I just…’ She broke off helplessly, mesmerised by the molten heat in his eyes. ‘Hang my principles Javier!’ she burst out on a surge of bravado. ‘I want you to make love to me.’
‘Grace!’ Her name escaped his lips on a low groan and she trembled beneath the stark intensity of his gaze. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’
‘Why not? It’s the truth,’ she murmured. She took a few steps closer to the bed, emboldened by the flash of hunger on his face. ‘I want to be your wife in every sense of the word.’ Her nightgown was a floor-length wisp of ivory silk drawn up at the neck by a ribbon. With one swift movement she unfastened it so that the material slid down and pooled around her feet, leaving her pale, delicately rounded curves unashamedly naked.
‘I should send you away,’ Javier muttered hoarsely. ‘I am not the man for you, querida, but your loveliness would tempt a saint—and I have never professed to piety.’
He twitched back the sheet and Grace caught her breath as she took in the length of his arousal. Her earlier doubts were forming thick and fast, but he took her hand and drew her down onto the bed.
She was shaking—or was it him? she wondered when he lifted her hand to his mouth and grazed his lips over her knuckles. ‘Don’t look at me like that. We’ll take it slowly. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Do you trust me?’ He tilted her chin so that she was forced to look at him, and the tender passion in his eyes caused her to nod wordlessly.
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