The Spanish Prince s Virgin Bride

by Sandra Marton

  “We’re right for each other, amada. Those two meddlers knew what they were doing.” He lifted her face so their eyes met. “Marry me, chica. Say yes.”

  She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to, with all her heart. But was it enough for them to have the same interests? To be good in bed? Most of all, was it enough for her to love him when what she wanted, what she longed for, was for him to love her, too?

  “Lyssa.” Softly, tenderly, he brushed his lips over hers. “We can make a good life together. I promise it. Say yes, amada. Say yes.”

  Alyssa rose on her toes and kissed him.

  And said yes.

  Who would have imagined that the interference of two men on opposite sides of the world could result in such happiness?

  Lucas had honestly thought he had everything. The land he loved. The horses he bred. A far-flung corporate empire he had created. All the women a man could want.

  Surely that was everything.

  Dios, how wrong he’d been.

  On a soft June evening, watching Alyssa as she went from table to table in the candlelit garden of the house in Monroy, chatting easily with the guests at the engagement party he’d insisted she must have, he knew how poor he had actually been.

  Until now, he’d had nothing.

  His Lyssa was everything.

  They had been together three weeks. Three wonderful, amazing weeks. Initially he’d wondered if he had rushed her into a situation she hadn’t really wanted. For instance, there was the first time he told her he had to go to Paris on business.

  “Will you be gone long?” she’d said politely when what he’d wanted her to do was beg him not to leave her or, better still, ask if she could go with him.

  Why not simply tell her that’s what you want? a reasonable voice inside him had whispered.

  But reason had little to do with pride or idiocy or whatever in hell it was that made him so mulish and finally he’d cursed himself for a fool, swept his Lyssa into his arms and said the question was not how long would he be gone but how long would she want them to spend in Paris.

  Her smile had warmed his heart.

  “Do you want me to go with you? I thought—I mean, I know this isn’t exactly how you’d intended things to be, Lucas, and I don’t want to be in your way. I don’t want to, you know, change your life.”

  “Amada,” he’d whispered. “You have already changed it. And I love—I love the result.”

  Then he’d carried her to their bedroom and made gentle love to her until her whispers, her caresses had driven him half out of his mind, and he’d taken her with wild abandon while she cried out his name and shattered in his arms.

  His beautiful virgin had become a gifted student. She could arouse him with a smile, a touch, and he never tired of it or of her.

  In Paris, he’d introduced her to all his friends. She was shy at first but not intimidated, not even when they went to a party and his former mistress arrived with her new lover, saw him and literally threw herself into his arms.

  “Lucas, darling,” Delia had shrieked.

  “Delia,” he’d said, disentangling himself and drawing Alyssa forward. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”

  Delia had turned white. Alyssa had simply smiled and held out her hand.

  “I think we met once before,” she’d said sweetly. “In Texas, perhaps?”

  “Meow meow,” he’d whispered when they were out of earshot.

  “Why, Lucas,” his novia had purred, “whatever do you mean?”

  He’d pulled her close and kissed her, and the laughter in her eyes had turned to desire.

  “Amada,” he’d said in a husky whisper, and he’d drawn her out into the garden of his friend’s home and made passionate love to her in the gazebo, the skirt of her silk gown bunched at her waist, his mouth drinking from hers, her soft cries sighing into the warmth of the night.

  At the end, when she’d trembled in his arms, he’d thought something must be happening to him, that he’d never felt this way before, so happy, so complete, that having Alyssa in his life was wonderful, wonderful—

  “Lucas.”

  Alyssa’s voice brought him back to the present as she slipped her arm through his and smiled up at him.

  “I’ve asked Dolores to wait a little before serving dessert. I thought she might object because she’s timed everything so perfectly but she said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Of course it wouldn’t. His staff would do anything for his Lyssa. He’d fooled no one by pretending she was his novia when they’d first come to Spain so he’d gathered them together three weeks ago and made the formal announcement to polite applause, which he’d expected, and then cheers, which he had not. Dolores had even kissed him, something that had never, ever happened before.

  “Lucas?”

  “What is it, amada?”

  “It’s a wonderful engagement party. Thank you.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “A minute ago, you looked as if you were a million miles away.”

  “I’m right here,” he said, embracing her. “Where else would I be, if not where you are?”

  Alyssa laced her hands at his nape and leaned back in his arms.

  “I want you to know,” she said softly, “that I am very, very happy.”

  “As am I.”

  Had he actually said that? So stuffy. So formal, when what he wanted to say, wanted to tell her, was—was—

  “There. It’s happening again. That distant look in your eyes. What are you thinking, Your Highness?”

  He smiled at her teasing. “I’m thinking about next week, mi princesa, when we are married,” he said huskily, “and you are truly mine.”

  Alyssa sighed and lay her head against his chest. “It still seems so impossible. That we should have met. That we should have—that we should have come to care for each other despite the way Felix and Aloysius trapped us.”

  Trapped us.

  The words hurt his heart as well as his conscience. More and more, it troubled him that he had not told her the truth.

  Felix had voided the contract. She was free to leave him.

  He had proposed marriage when he knew she couldn’t afford to say no. That was how badly he wanted her. And what he’d done was selfish. It was immoral.

  It was a lie.

  How could they build a life on a lie like that, and never mind that it was a lie of omission and not commission? He’d spent three weeks telling himself that and it was time to face facts.

  A lie was a lie, no matter what you labeled it.

  Alyssa had to know she would lose nothing if she left him. If she stayed with him, became his wife, it had to be because it was fully her choice. Why had he been such a coward, thinking the only way he could keep her was through subterfuge?

  He could tell her later, when they were alone. When they were in bed, when he could take her in his arms and show her with his mouth, his hands, his body how much he wanted her. Needed her. How much he—how much he—

  “Lucas, look!”

  There was a little stir among the guests. Several had risen to their feet.

  “It’s your grandfather.”

  They had invited Felix, of course, though Lucas had never expected him to come. The old man had moved into a spacious apartment on the grounds of a rehabilitation center. Lucas visited him daily; Alyssa had twice gone with him and Lucas had asked Felix, in advance, not to mention the contract.

  “It upsets her,” he’d explained.

  “Even though I abrogated it?”

  “Even though,” Lucas had replied, feeling as guilt-stricken as he had at the age of five, when he’d told a whopper of a lie about his governess, a box of chalk and a Velasquez that hung on the sitting room wall.

  All the more reason to come clean with Alyssa, he thought with growing urgency. And she would surely forgive him. She was happy; hadn’t she just said she was?

  Perhaps, given the choice, she would not have agreed to m
arry him three weeks ago but surely she would now.

  He had to tell her. Had to hear her answer. Suddenly it mattered more than anything in the world that she should want him for all the right reasons.

  “Lyssa,” he began, but she was already tugging him across the terrace, to the little entourage gathered around Felix’s wheelchair.

  “Your Highness,” she said, and made a perfect curtsy.

  Felix chuckled. “A lovely gesture, but you will be my granddaughter soon. Don’t you think it’s time you gave me a kiss and called me by my name?”

  Alyssa smiled and touched her lips to his forehead. “Felix. We’re happy to see you.”

  “And I am happy to see you, child. You will make a beautiful princess. My Lucas is a lucky man.”

  Alyssa reached for Lucas’s hand. “I’m lucky, too,” she said softly. “So lucky that I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  “Ah. That contract.”

  “That contract. Even that ridiculous marriage stipulation. Without it, I’d never have met Lucas.”

  “True. Still, I’m sure we’re both glad that I—”

  “Grandfather,” Lucas said quickly, “let me take you to the buffet. We have that chorizo you like so much, and wait until you see the size of the lobsters.”

  “It’s all right, mi hijo. I know you warned me not to mention the contract but your lovely novia is the one who brought it up and I’m glad she did. For weeks now, I’ve wanted to tell her how pleased I am she decided to ignore the fact that I abrogated the silly thing.”

  Lucas felt Alyssa’s hand stiffen in his.

  “Alyssa,” he said quickly, “amada, come into the house where we can talk.”

  Alyssa ignored him. “You made the terms null and void?”

  “Yes, of course. The first time you came to the hospital. You left, and Lucas asked me to do it.”

  “Lyssa,” Lucas said in the desperate tones of a man who sees his life flashing before him, “Lyssa, listen to me—”

  “I was glad to. By then, I knew Aloysius and I had meant well but that we’d done the wrong thing. So I agreed to abrogate the contract and let Lucas handle things on his own. You know, pay the arrears owed the bank and deed the land to you. And, of course, that invalidated that marriage stipulation but you know all this, dear child.” Felix smiled. “And, to my delight, you chose to marry my grandson anyway.”

  For a long moment, Alyssa didn’t move. Then she swung toward Lucas and he knew he would never forget what he saw in her face.

  “You lied to me,” she said in a shocked whisper.

  “No. Yes. I mean…” Lucas shook his head. “I wanted you. That was all I could think of, that I wanted you and that without the stipulation, you might leave me.”

  “So you lied.”

  “Amada. It was not that simple.”

  “Oh, it’s very simple. And very understandable. Why wouldn’t you lie? That’s the way people deal with me, isn’t it? My mother. My father. And now you.”

  “Damn it, you’re not listening. I wanted you to marry me.”

  “You wanted.” Her voice shook. Lucas reached for her, tried to draw her into his arms, but she jerked free of his hands, her head high, her eyes glittering with tears. “You wanted, and that made the lie appropriate.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re overreacting.”

  “You lied, Lucas. Everyone lies, and nobody gives a damn what effect those lies have on my life.”

  “All right. I made a mistake. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re happy with me. That you want to marry me. That we belong together.”

  The minutes slipped away. Then Alyssa took a steadying breath.

  “Did it ever occur to you that I’m as happy as possible under the circumstances, Your Highness? That given a choice, an honest choice, I might just as well have told you to go to hell?”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “You’re the one who lies, Lucas. Not me.”

  Her words were like a slap in the face—but a welcome one. The land. The ranch. That was all she’d ever wanted. Maybe he’d known that, in his heart. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told her the truth.

  She’d wanted everything he could give her…

  But not him.

  When she ran for the house, he took his time. And when he finally reached their bedroom and found her already dressed in trousers, boots and a T-shirt, he looked at her and wondered why he’d thought she was the center of his life.

  It made it easy to reach for the phone and arrange to send her home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THERE were certain absolutes in life.

  Not many. A man learned that early on. Still, there were a few things that never changed.

  New York in August was one of them.

  In those hot, sticky dog days of summer, the city turned into a different place.

  The streets were still crowded but with tourists, not New Yorkers. The city’s residents fled to the Hamptons or Connecticut. The ones with reason to be in town stayed indoors, where air-conditioning provided merciful relief.

  Unless it stopped working, Lucas thought grimly as he pounded along the indoor track at the Eastside Club, where the AC had given up an hour ago.

  That hadn’t stopped him.

  He’d flown into the city in early morning, met with an investment banker who’d needed reassurance his billions would be well-spent, thought about what to do next…

  And had ended up here.

  No particular reason for it, he told himself as he pulled the towel from around his neck and wiped the sweat from his face without ever breaking stride. It was just that he was in the States for the first time in a couple of months. No particular reason for that, either. He just hadn’t had any cause to visit the U.S.A.

  Now there was. He’d come over on business and, after a long meeting, a workout at the quiet, exclusive club seemed a good idea.

  Lucas’s jaw tightened.

  Who was he trying to kid? He’d sent his second-in-command to the States three times instead of flying over himself. The pressure of work, he’d told himself, but that was just bull.

  So was lifting weights and running laps when it was ninety degrees outside and probably more than that inside, unless a man had the inclination to end up in an emergency room, but it was the only way he could think of to clear his head and keep from thinking about what had happened the last time he was in the States.

  Alyssa.

  Why did he waste time on such nonsense? She’d left him two months ago and, except for his admittedly wounded pride, he’d forgotten all about her.

  He never thought of her anymore.

  Never. Never. Nev—

  “Mierda,” Lucas growled and swung off the track, to the locker room.

  An hour later, showered, dressed in mocs, chinos and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open, he sat in the mercifully dark, mercifully chilly confines of a local bar, an icy bottle of ale in front of him.

  He felt much, much better.

  Why hadn’t he done this in the first place? Not only headed here but phoned Nicolo and Damian to see if, by some minor miracle, they were in the city, too.

  They were. And—

  “Reyes, what in hell are you doing in the outer reaches of hell in mid-August?”

  Lucas rose to his feet, grinned and held his hand out to Nicolo. Prince Nicolo Barbieri, to be exact, one of the two best friends a man could ever have.

  “Nicolo.”

  The men grinned at each other, then embraced.

  “Still ugly as ever,” Lucas said.

  “That’s just what I was thinking about you,” Nicolo countered. “Man, it’s great to see you. What’s it been? Six months?”

  “Eight,” another male voice said, “but who’s counting?”

  Damian Aristedes—Prince Damian Aristedes—flashed a grin and grabbed his two oldest friends in a bear-hug.

  “Nicolo. Lucas. How the hell are you guys?”

&nb
sp; “Good,” both men said with one voice.

  The three old pals settled into the wooden booth. The bartender, who’d known them for a long time, appeared almost instantly with two more bottles of cold ale. Lucas nodded his thanks, then turned to his buddies.

  “Amazing,” he said, “that the three of us should be in New York at the same time.”

  “This time of year,” Damian said, “who’d have believed it?”

  “Business goes on, no matter the weather,” Nicolo said.

  Damian nodded. Then a sheepish smile angled across his mouth.

  “Truth is,” he said, “Ivy read about an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. A butterfly room, you know, one of those things you walk through and the butterflies swoop all around you? I suggested waiting until fall but she said the baby was at just the right age, so—”

  “I know what you mean,” Nicolo said. “Aimee found out about a baby tiger at the Bronx Zoo. I said, great, we’ll fly over when the weather cools. She said yes, but the tiger would be bigger then and so would little Nickie.”

  “Priorities change,” Damian said softly.

  Nicolo nodded. “And for the better.”

  The two men grinned at each other. Then Damian turned to Lucas.

  “But not for our hold-out.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Hold-out?”

  “Lucas Reyes. Our perennial bachelor-in-residence. Still haven’t found the right woman, huh?”

  “You mean, I still haven’t been trapped. Not that you two were,” he added hastily. “I just meant that marriage isn’t for every man.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Nicolo said.

  Damian smiled. “Same here, but I was wrong.” He took a long, cool swallow of his ale. “So, Lucas. What brought you to the city?”

  “Business.”

  “Ah. I thought maybe it was a woman.”

  “Why would it be a woman?”

  “Just a thought.”

  “Business, is why I’m here.”

  “Yes. So you—”

  “There’s not a woman in the world I’d come all this distance to see.”

  Nicolo and Damian exchanged quick looks. Was Lucas’s tone just a little grim?

  Nicolo shrugged. “Of course there isn’t. As Damian said, you’re our perennial bach—”