The Spanish Prince s Virgin Bride

by Sandra Marton

  “I hate to disappoint you, but my blood is pure Texan. The Montero name dates back four centuries in the New World. I am descended from conquistadores.”

  Another quick laugh. “Some would say that is nothing to boast about.”

  “They did as men did in those times. And they were brave and fearless.”

  “What of your real father? Montero? Did he divorce your mother?”

  “He died, when I was two.”

  “So you don’t remember him?”

  She shook her head. It was one of the sorrows of her life that she had no memory of the father who had surely loved her as Aloysius never had.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “When did McDonough adopt you?”

  “When my mother married him. I was four.”

  Why was she telling him all this? She never talked about her past to anyone. Losing the father who’d loved you to be raised by one who didn’t was no one’s affair but her own.

  “He was unkind to you?”

  “I don’t see that any of this is your concern.”

  “I have no idea what is or is not my concern until I’ve talked with Madeira.”

  “Until we’ve talked with him. This situation is intolerable. It must end.”

  Intolerable, Lucas thought. Being with him. Making love with him. Learning she was betrothed to him. Intolerable, all of it.

  She was right. Of course, she was right…

  Frowning, he leaned forward.

  “There’s no traffic,” he told Paolo sharply. “Surely we can go faster.”

  The road wound through lush green countryside dotted with elegant villas and, tucked back among stands of orange and encina trees, enormous mansions.

  Signs flashed by. Marbella was just ahead.

  That explained the scent of the sea. Alyssa had never been to Spain but she knew Marbella was in the south, on the Mediterranean, facing across a narrow strip of it to North Africa and the mysteries of Tangiers.

  She knew this was the gold coast, the home and playground of fabulously rich Spaniards and Europeans. Horses were expensive to breed and raise, the Andalusians of the quality the Reyes name was known for took “expensive” up another notch, and the cost of the Reyes acreage would be extraordinary.

  Of course, the prince could afford it. He had no heart but he had money, power and arrogance enough for a thousand men.

  “Most Andalusian breeders ranch further inland but I prefer the La Concha foothills.” Lucas gave her a level look when she turned toward him. “That’s what you were wondering, wasn’t it? Why I breed horses here?”

  “Why should I think about your horses at all?”

  “Because you claim to be a horsewoman.”

  “I am a horsewoman, señor.”

  “Most certainly.” His words dripped sarcasm. “I could tell that by the way you handled that black monster.”

  “Bebé has fine bloodlines. And he was not at fault!”

  “Bebé has the bloodlines of brontosaurs but you’re right, he was not at fault. You were.”

  “That shows how little you know about me.”

  Lucas smiled coolly. “I know more about you than most men, don’t I, chica?”

  Alyssa turned crimson. “I was wrong when I called you a pig. They’re actually intelligent creatures with bad press. Exactly the opposite of you.”

  Hell. He couldn’t blame her for taking offense but, damn it, he was still angry. If only he could clear his head of the image of her, naked in his arms. Naked, and trembling, and pleading for his possession…then telling him, in a voice that would have frozen tap water, to get off her.

  The time to have done that was when he realized she was a virgin but he was a man, not a saint. So he’d taken what she had offered.

  Afterward, lying with her still in his arms, he’d felt a tenderness that was new to him, and a hunger to make love to her again.

  First, though, he’d wanted to tend to her. Gently, with a warm, damp cloth. He’d wash her, kiss away any soreness.

  Instead she’d insulted him. Made it clear what had happened had meant nothing to her. That had infuriated him, and he’d responded in kind. Which was just as well, he thought as the Rolls-Royce slowed, then stopped in a square lined with white stucco villas and palm trees.

  It had sent him to the phone to make this appointment.

  Paolo opened the door. Lucas stepped out and offered his hand to Alyssa, who ignored him.

  “I thought your attorneys were in Madrid.”

  “They are. Madeira would have flown down here, of course—”

  “Of course,” she said with a scathing smile.

  “But, as luck would have it, he’s in Marbella this weekend. He’s meeting us in a friend’s office. Well? Are you getting out of the car, or are you going to stay here and sulk?”

  Alyssa tossed her head, brushed his hand away and stepped into the cobblestone courtyard.

  Good, Lucas thought viciously. She was making it easy to forget any sentimental claptrap about what he’d felt in bed with her. Amazing, the spin even a sensible man could put on taking a woman’s virginity.

  Madeira would review the contract. He’d agree that whole damnable stipulation was illegal, admit he had added it only because Felix had insisted. Lucas would pay the balance of what Reyes owed to Thaddeus Norton, the McDonough executor.

  Then, as new owner of the ranch he didn’t want, he’d commit an act of charity and sign it over to Alyssa Montero McDonough, who would then get the hell out of his life.

  He supposed he could have done all this without consulting his attorney but this would make striking out the marriage clause legal and official. If Felix recovered…No. When Felix recovered, it might upset him but Lucas would deal with that when it happened.

  Right now, the important thing was voiding that damned stipulation without leaving any loose ends behind.

  So simple. It was almost enough to make him smile.

  It was a good thing he hadn’t actually gone ahead and smiled, Lucas thought two hours later.

  Madeira expressed his sorrow at Felix’s illness. Lucas thanked him. Madeira offered coffee. Lucas brushed it aside and handed the attorney the copy of the contract Thaddeus Norton had given him.

  Madeira didn’t bother looking at it.

  “I had your grandfather’s files faxed to me, Prince Lucas, the moment you phoned.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to waste time. I want your legal opinion on this as quickly as possible.” Lucas smiled knowingly. “Of course, I already know it’s not legal. Parts of it, at any rate…but then, you must know that, too, since you wrote it.”

  Madeira smiled politely. “I am not in the habit of writing illegal contracts for my clients, Your Highness. If you will just give me a minute…”

  An hour passed. Lucas glowered while the attorney read. Hummed. Tapped his pencil against his nose. Made notes.

  Finally Madeira looked up.

  “Not illegal,” he said. “Unenforceable.”

  “The same thing,” Lucas snapped.

  The lawyer sat back, crossed one leg over the other, steepled his hands under his dew-lapped chin and smiled.

  “Not at all, sir. The contract lays out terms agreed upon by your grandfather and Aloysius McDonough. Legal? Absolutely. Unenforceable? Si. I apprised Felix of that fact at the time.”

  Lucas felt a muscle flicker in his jaw.

  “What,” he said carefully, “does that double-talk mean?”

  “It means, Your Highness, that this is well-crafted document.”

  The muscle in Lucas’s jaw flickered again. “Undoubtedly, but as we have already agreed, you wrote it.”

  “Yes. But your grandfather had a hand in drafting some of the more unusual clauses.”

  “Let’s get to the point.” The men looked at Alyssa. Of course, she thought coldly. They had all but forgotten she was there. “You said this thing isn’t illegal but it is. Selling women into slavery has actually been illegal for centur
ies.” She paused for emphasis. “In my part of the world, anyway.”

  “No one sold you into anything,” Lucas said sharply.

  The attorney nodded. “Certainly not.”

  “Ms. McDonough is right, Madeira. Let’s get to the point. I own El Rancho Grande.”

  “No.”

  “Well, of course, I meant I will own it should I choose to pay the balance of the selling price.”

  “And marry the lovely señorita.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  Lucas and Alyssa spoke with one voice. Madeira folded his hands over his little belly and sighed.

  “That’s exactly what I tried to tell your grandfather.”

  “Well, then? What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that legally, a contract is a contract. It’s the meeting of the minds that’s important.”

  “More double-talk,” Lucas snapped.

  Madeira shook his head. “What I’m saying, Your Highness, is that enforceable or not, contracts of this sort stand as written unless voided by the signatories.” The lawyer peered at Alyssa. “One of those parties is deceased.” He looked at Lucas. “And the other is incapacitated.” His expression turned solemn. “Did I tell you how sorry we were to hear about your grandfather?”

  “You did, yes.” Lucas cleared his throat. “So, what are you telling me, Madeira? That there might be reasons an unenforceable contract can be enforced?” He flashed a chilly smile. “That’s a bit too much bullshit even for a lawyer.”

  “Let me ask you something, Prince Lucas. Your grandfather and I discussed his giving you his power of attorney but there doesn’t appear to be any such paperwork in his file.”

  “What does it matter? I represent the Reyes Corporation, not my grandfather.”

  “Ah, but Prince Felix signed this agreement in his own name, not that of the corporation.” Madeira paused. “Of course, you can simply renege on the contract.”

  “Not pay the balance of the money?”

  Alyssa made a muffled sound. Both men looked at her.

  “Without that money,” she said carefully, “the bank will take the ranch.”

  “Unfortunately,” the lawyer said, “that is not Prince Lucas’s problem.”

  “No,” Lucas said coldly, “it is not.”

  Alyssa rose to her feet. “Despite everything, I know there’s a decent human being somewhere inside you.”

  The lawyer blanched. “Señorita McDonough!”

  “I know that because I know you love your grandfather. Surely there must be a way—”

  “For you to get my money and my title? Sorry, amada. There isn’t. Nice try, though.”

  Alyssa looked at him for a long minute. Her eyes glittered; was it with anger or frustration or maybe even despair?

  Without another word, she stalked from the office.

  Lucas watched her go. Then he cursed, shot from his chair and went after her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LUCAS ran down the steps, out the door and into the courtyard.

  There was no sign of Alyssa, which was impossible. How could a woman vanish in the blink of an eye?

  “Sir?”

  She’d had, what, a second’s lead? Not even that. He’d been right on her heels.

  “Prince Lucas! Your Highness!”

  His driver hissed the words but they carried easily on the warm, still air. A woman walking an obese poodle stopped and stared as Paolo, gesticulating wildly, hurried up to Lucas.

  “I called out to Ms. McDonough, sir, but she went right past me.”

  “Are you Prince Lucas?” the woman with the fat poodle said. “Oh, you are! Can I have your autograph?”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere! On my hand. No, my shirt. No, on Frou Frou’s collar—”

  “Where did she go?” Lucas demanded, turning his back to the woman and the poodle.

  “That way, sir. She went toward the corner.”

  “Oh my,” the woman said. “This is so exciting!”

  Lucas shot the woman and dog a look that silenced her and started the little dog yapping. Wonderful, he thought coldly. Soon, all of Marbella would know a woman had run from the Prince of Andalusia.

  Well, let Alyssa run. He’d be damned if he’d make a fool of himself by chasing after her. No way would he—no way would he—

  “Mierda,” he snarled, and set off running.

  He saw her as soon as he turned the corner.

  At this hour on a weekend morning, the streets were already busy. Tourists were window-shopping; people were searching for just the right table at just the right café al aire libre.

  Still, Alyssa stood out in the crowd.

  Everyone was strolling but she was moving fast. Added to that, she was the only woman on this expensive stretch of real estate wearing a leather jacket, black trousers and boots. Shorts, navel-skimming T-shirts, bright summer dresses and sandals were the order of the day.

  She really did need new clothes, Lucas thought, and grimaced at the irrelevancy of the idea. She was running away from him. What did he care about her clothes?

  He slowed to a brisk walk. He’d drawn enough curious glances. Better to move at a slightly faster pace than she. He’d catch up to her in a minute or two.

  A workable plan, except Alyssa picked that moment to look back. Their eyes met; she spun away and began to run.

  “Damn it,” Lucas growled.

  He shouted her name. It didn’t stop her but it drew the attention of other people. Dios, he was the new spectator sport of Marbella.

  “Alyssa!” he yelled again.

  Then he cursed and took off after her.

  His stride was much longer than hers; it gave him a distinct advantage. Within seconds, he was only a couple of feet behind her. By the time they reached an intersection, he was only an arm’s length away.

  And then, everything blurred.

  Alyssa stepped off the curb.

  A horn blared. A red truck was barreling down the road toward her. Lucas shouted her name and leaped off the curb.

  He hit her, hard. They fell, rolled and the truck shot by them, horn still blaring, so close he could smell the rubber of its skidding tires and feel the dust from the cobblestones blow into his face.

  For an instant, the world stood still. Lucas could hear nothing but its hush and the drumbeat of his heart.

  “Alyssa,” he whispered, and she turned in his arms and sobbed his name.

  He shut his eyes. Gathered her to him. “Amada,” he said thickly. “Madre de Dios, amada!”

  The truck had stopped. The driver ran back and squatted beside them. “Are you okay?”

  Lucas nodded. He cupped Alyssa’s head, brought her face to the crook of his neck.

  “The lady just stepped out in front of me. I couldn’t—”

  “Si. I know. It was not your fault.”

  “You want an ambulance? A doctor?”

  “No,” Alyssa whispered, her tears hot on Lucas’s throat. “Please. No ambulance. No doctor.”

  Lucas nodded again. It seemed all he was capable of doing. “We’re fine,” he said.

  Then he rose to his feet with Alyssa in his arms. A crowd had gathered; he ignored it. The only thing that mattered was his Lyssa. She was safe and he had her back. What could be more important?

  The Rolls-Royce came to a stop beside them. Paolo, white-faced, peered out the window.

  “Sir. I—I followed you with the car. I don’t know if that was what you wanted but—”

  “Paolo,” Lucas said softly, “you just doubled your pay.”

  Gently he put Alyssa into the wide back seat, then climbed in after her.

  “Take us home, Paolo.”

  When he reached for Alyssa, she went straight into his arms.

  He carried her into the house, just as he had only a day ago.

  Then, she’d been rigid in his embrace. Now, her arms were looped around his neck. Her face was buried against his chest, and Lucas thought of how wonderful
it would be to hold her like this forever.

  Dolores threw up her hands and let fly a stream of saints’ names when she saw them. Lucas could hardly blame her. His trousers were torn; so were Alyssa’s. He could see the long, bloody scrape on her knee. Her jacket was ripped as was her blouse, and a bruise was already forming on her forehead.

  “Señor! Oh, what has happened? The poor lady—”

  “Phone for the doctor, please, Dolores.”

  “No! Lucas, I don’t need—”

  Lucas stopped the whispered protest with a kiss. “For my sake, amada, si? I need to hear the médico say that you are all right.”

  While Dolores hurried to make the call, Lucas carried Alyssa up the stairs, to his rooms, and placed her carefully in the center of an enormous canopied bed. He kissed her again before disappearing inside the master bathroom and emerged a moment later carrying a small basin of warm water, a soft cloth and a linen hand towel.

  “Can you sit up, amada?”

  “Lucas. I can do this for myself.”

  “Of course you can. I know that. You are a strong, brave woman. You can do anything you set your mind to.” Gently he lifted her against the pillows. Then he dampened the cloth and cleaned the smudges and dirt from her face with a gentleness belied by his big, powerful hands. “But I want to do this, si?” His tone, still gentle, assumed an edge of authority. “And you will let me. Now, close your eyes. Good. There is a tiny cut right here…”

  Alyssa gave herself up to the touch of her Spanish prince. How predictable he was! First he seemed to ask her permission. Then he made it clear he would do exactly as he wanted no matter what she said.

  His fingers skimmed over her face as delicately as the whisper of butterfly wings.

  How arrogant her prince was.

  How wonderful.

  She had thought him ruled by ego but she was wrong. In a world of “me-firsters,” Lucas believed in putting the needs of others before his own. His grandfather’s, now hers.

  Her prince was an amazing man. Complex. Generous. Exciting. If only they’d met some other way. If she could go back, undo the damned contract and meet her prince as a woman, not an obligation…

  Alyssa caught her breath. Lucas’s hand stilled.