‘Oh.’ Slowly Nena recouped her breath. Then suddenly she became aware that Ramon was about to remove his pyjama pants. Exercising every ounce of will-power, she sat up and brushed her hair aside, little aware of how tantalising she looked in the glow of the soft bedside lamps.
‘Ramon, what are you doing?’
‘Nena, you may be young and a virgin,’ he said with a touch of humour in his flashing brown eyes, ‘but I think you know very well what I’m doing. It’s time I made you truly my wife.’
‘No. I don’t want to.’ She moved back against the pillows and drew her legs up under her nightdress.
‘Nena, after what just happened out there that is a ridiculous statement,’ he said with a low, husky laugh that left her once again prey to the rush of heat that had assailed her previously. ‘You want me just as much as I want you,’ he said softly, trailing his long dark fingers from her throat to her breast, where he stopped just above her nipple and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to start all over again,’ he said with quiet, yet arrogant assurance, ‘and I’ll leave you alone.’
Nena tried to think straight, to resist the tantalising caress that was fuzzing her brain. ‘I don’t—I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can, mi linda, of course you can. Remember, I’m your husband. You can do anything with me, Nena, anything at all. I’ll show you, take you places you’ve never dreamed of.’
Her better judgement now fading into complete oblivion, Nena let her head sink back against the pillow with a long sigh.
‘No,’ Ramon said in an authoritative tone, ‘don’t run away from me. I want you here with me. I want you to know who is loving you and when. Nena, take off your nightgown.’
Again she tried to shy away. ‘No. Please, Ramon, I—’
‘Nena, might I remind you that a few days ago you vowed to obey me? I would hate to see you not keep your word.’ His eyes pinned her now, allowing no room for flight. ‘I am your husband, the man who has the right to see you, to possess you.’
It was a command, she realised, wishing she had the will-power to refuse him. Part of her hated him for what he was doing; the other submitted with intense female surrender. After all, he was right. The vow to obey had been part of their marriage ceremony; she had pronounced the words. But she hadn’t thought of their meaning. Now, seeing him rise and stand over her next to the bed, his face unsmiling as his gaze held hers, she knew that the words were for real.
Slowly, very slowly, Nena slipped to the edge of the bed.
‘Stand up,’ he ordered softly.
Nena did as he bade her—standing, cheeks flushed, clenching her hands, as gently but firmly he pulled up the nightdress and slipped it over her head, leaving her before him with nothing but the long strands of her silky tawny mane for protection.
Then Ramon took a step back and feasted his eyes on her. ‘You’re beautiful—lovely,’ he whispered hoarsely, letting his fingers trail over her, past her breast on down to her belly.
Despite her embarrassment Nena experienced another mind-wrenching tingle rush through her when his fingers reached further. All at once she realised she felt damp and hot, filled with a desire so great she could barely control the moan that escaped her when his fingers fondled her soft mound of golden curls, then slipped between her legs, probing further as he drew her close with his other arm.
And all at once she wanted to experience his skin on hers, to know what he felt like, and it was she who began tugging at the tie of his pyjamas.
‘Not so fast, cariña,’ he murmured, close to her ear. ‘There’s time for that.’
‘No,’ she muttered, gasping as he touched a place deep inside her, provoking thrusts of pain and joy, leaving her increasingly ragged and wanting. ‘You saw me. Now I want to see you.’
Ramon let out a low, satisfied laugh. ‘Very well, my darling.’ With that he continued caressing her with one hand while with the other he helped her remove the offending garments.
Soon they were standing naked, facing one another. Then Ramon gently removed his fingers and looked into her eyes. ‘I am your husband, Nena, don’t be ashamed.’
And the amazing thing, Nena realised, baffled, was that she wasn’t. In fact she felt a strange new power take hold as he looked at her, and—tentatively at first—she allowed herself to look at his body, feast on his strong, bronzed and muscled limbs, his broad yet lean torso, then on down.
Firmly Ramon slipped his hand over hers and drew it towards him. ‘I want you to feel me as I’ve felt you,’ he said, drawing her back into his arms and gently placing her hand upon him, strangely enchanted to know that this was the first time she’d been with a man, that he was the first to teach her. Another sudden rush of possessiveness and then something far stronger hit him with utter surprise: for all at once he hoped he would be the last.
It was a strange, overwhelming feeling that left him more emotionally touched than he could have believed possible. Now, as his arms slipped around her once more and he drew her back onto the bed, he tried to reason with himself, keep up the control. But he couldn’t—could think only of reaching further, knowing her thoroughly, and he kissed her, not gently, as before, but with a new, surging passion that eradicated all trace of hesitation. The latter was replaced by a passionate, gnawing hunger that he’d rarely known but that needed to be assuaged.
Nena held her breath and let her feelings take over, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he would hear it, delighting in the hard wall of muscled male body cleaving against her. And something more, something much more troubling yet stirring, a primal need, grew inside her that she knew she had to pursue, as Ramon began a thorough and delicious investigation of her body, starting with feathery kisses at her throat that descended, further and further, taunting her aching swollen nipples, then moved on down until he reached her core.
Nena let out a gasp as his tongue flicked over the little nub of sensitive flesh she’d been unaware existed until this very moment. Seconds later she was moaning, writhing, unable to restrain the need to rake her fingers through his hair.
‘Ramon!’ she cried, and shattered again into a myriad of indescribable sensations, only to end up curled in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and soothed her gently as every pulse in her body beat wildly.
And there was more to come.
Just as Nena was beginning to steady herself Ramon slipped his fingers between her thighs once more and probed, slowly, feeling the soft liquid honey, making sure she was ready for what was to happen next.
‘Nena, mi amor,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I’m going to make you mine, all mine.’ His almost imperceptible Spanish lilt thickened with passion as firmly he slid on top of her and parted her thighs.
Nena felt her body tense.
‘Don’t be afraid, querida. I’ll do my best not to hurt you.’
‘I—I’ve never—’
‘I know, corazon, just leave it to me.’ He dropped a long kiss on her mouth and at the same time eased himself gently into her.
Nena experienced a moment’s shock as she felt him reach within her, just a little at first, as though letting her get used to the novelty. Then all at once he penetrated further. Nena gave a gasp of pain when he thrust deep, and dug her nails into his shoulders.
‘It’s all right, mi amor,’ he murmured softly, his kisses almost reverent in their gentleness, his eyes dark and bright and filled with a gleam she didn’t recognise. And the pain was quickly replaced by another of those lingering, rising coils of desire. At each new thrust Nena felt herself arching involuntarily towards him, her hips moving in a new and wonderful cadence. Then all became hazy, fuzzy, as she felt him join her, knew that he was somehow experiencing the same incredible sensation she was. And together they soared, swept away on a powerful, forceful wave of passion so strong that when it came to their climax they cried together, then fell exhausted onto the rumpled sheets, too spent to do more than listen to the beat of each other’s hearts.
CHAPTER THREE
‘DON RAMON?’
After several knocks Ramon awoke and realised that Juanito, his manservant, who’d accompanied he and Nena on the honeymoon, was outside the door, urgently calling his name.
Rising quickly from the rumpled bed, Ramon pulled on his discarded pyjama pants and dragged his fingers through his hair. He glanced down at Nena, still fast asleep, curled up like a kitten under the sheet, her hair fanned over the pillow, and smiled before he turned and went to the door. Opening it carefully, so as not to wake her, he slipped into the corridor.
‘What is it, Juanito?’ he asked, smothering a yawn. ‘Que pasa?’
‘It is Don Rodrigo, señor. Doña Augusta called to advise you that he has taken a turn for the worse. She and Don Pedro feel you should return to London immediately.’
‘My God.’ Ramon was fully awake now, his mind working nineteen to the dozen. He glanced at the door. How would she react? he wondered, heart sinking, knowing he would have to go back into the room, wake Nena from her slumber and tell her the devastating news.
‘Muy bien,’ he said with a firm nod. ‘See that the chopper is here within the hour, and tell the pilot to have the plane ready for take-off. We should be at Athens International Airport shortly.’
With that he turned on his heel and faced the daunting task of telling the woman to whom he had made love last night, for the first time, that the honeymoon he’d begun to have such hopes for was about to end. He entered, watched her, still curled up on the bed, then moved towards it. He sat down on the edge, next to her, face softening as his fingers gently smoothed the amazing mane of hair that was neither dark nor light, but a unique shade, highlighted with a myriad of golden streaks.
Bracing himself, he dropped a light kiss on her eyelids, then her mouth.
‘Nena,’ he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder, ‘You must wake up, cariña.’
Slowly, very slowly, Nena emerged from a delicious dream. At first she kept her eyes closed, still basking in the aftermath of a wonderful night’s sleep. Then all at once she stretched, became conscious of her body, of a slight pain when she moved, and little by little she recalled and pieced together the events of the night before.
Opening her eyes with a start, she looked up into Ramon’s face.
‘Good morning, señora mia,’ he said softly. ‘How did you sleep?’ There was a gleam in his eyes as he spoke, and Nena felt her cheeks warm as in a sudden instant the lovemaking of the previous evening flashed before her.
‘Fi-fine,’ she muttered, looking away as Ramon leaned down and slipped an arm under her, drawing her close.
‘Don’t be embarrassed by what occurred between us, mi linda,’ he said cajolingly, ‘it is how it should be.’
He did not add that he’d been struck by the intensity of feeling that had hit him when at last he’d penetrated her fully and made her his. He had never experienced anything quite so powerful. And there had been women in his life, many women—younger ones, older ones—all of them exciting experiences who had taught him to perfect the art of lovemaking, of becoming a skilled and thoughtful lover as well as satisfying his own needs. But never before had he experienced such sheer, unadulterated passion as he had with his virgin wife.
But now was not the moment to be thinking of those things, he reminded himself, regretting that he couldn’t prolong the aftermath and start all over again. Duty, after all, came first.
Pulling her gently to a sitting position, careful to help her wrap the sheet decorously about her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Nena, I’m afraid I have some bad news.’
‘Oh? What is it?’ She frowned, fully awake now, her eyes wide with sudden fear.
‘I’m afraid it’s your grandfather. He’s taken a turn for the worse.’
‘Oh, no!’ She pulled back from him and gazed up in horror. ‘I must go at once,’ she whispered, suddenly aware that here she was, making love with this man who’d been thrust upon her and whom she’d allowed to take possession of her body, when her grandfather was lying ill and probably needing her. ‘I must leave!’ she cried, struggling to get up.
Ramon rose quickly, leaving her room to move. ‘I have arranged for the chopper to be here shortly.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied stiffly, rising, the sheet wrapped around her like a toga. ‘I shall be ready.’
‘Right, then we’ll leave as soon as it lands.’
‘We?’
‘Of course,’ he responded haughtily.
‘But I can go alone,’ Nena said, suddenly anguished at the thought of having him along, wanting to be by herself, to try and forget the shame she was experiencing.
How could she have allowed last night to happen? How could she have forgotten her grandfather and let herself be sucked into Ramon’s bed and—? Oh! It was all too awful, and too frustrating. This man, after all, wanted nothing from her but to own her—make her part of his already vast array of possessions. And now he’d branded her, asserted his ownership, and he probably imagined he could take her whenever he wanted, use her to satisfy his needs, like the rest of his belongings.
Gathering together some last shreds of dignity, Nena nodded curtly, head high, and moved towards the huge marble bathroom she perceived through the half-open door. But even the hot jet of water blasting her from the shower didn’t erase the tormented and uneasy feelings of guilt and shame that assailed her.
Ramon sighed as she closed the door behind her. He could read her like a book—the doubts, the anger, the shock, the self-recrimination written in her eyes—and wished only that there was time to help assuage some of the inevitable emotions she was experiencing. But he shrugged and made his way to the other bathroom of the suite. Priorities came first. He must get her back to Don Rodrigo as soon as possible.
And he hoped desperately that it wouldn’t be too late.
Nena barely spoke a word during the flight back to London. When they arrived at Heathrow customs officers came quickly on board and formalities were rapidly dealt with. Then they climbed into Ramon’s Bentley, waiting on the tarmac to pick them up, and roared off immediately towards Windsor.
Several calls on Ramon’s mobile phone had kept them abreast of Don Rodrigo’s progress, which was not good. He would very probably be moved to hospital if he didn’t improve by the afternoon.
Nena sat in the corner of the leather seat, as far from Ramon as possible, and clasped her hands in her lap, hating herself. How would she ever forgive herself for not being here when her grandfather had most needed her? She should never have consented to the wretched honeymoon in the first place—should have been more attentive to all the arrangements. In fact she simply should have refused. They could easily have stayed somewhere nearby. There had been no need to go all the way to Greece.
Over and over she chastised herself, so that by the time they arrived at Thurston Manor she was jumping out of the car before the chauffeur could so much as open the door.
As Ramon alighted he watched her burst into the house and run up the stairs towards her grandfather’s apartments, heedless of the nurse and Doña Augusta standing in the corridor.
It was only when she finally reached the door of his room that she slowed down, took a deep breath, straightened her hair, then opened it quietly and tiptoed in, so as not to disturb the patient.
The room was dark, the curtains closed to keep out the glaring sunlight. Don Rodrigo lay very still in the middle of the large oak bed. He seemed so much smaller, frailer than when she had last seen him. And as she approached the bed Nena stifled a sob before slipping soundlessly into the chair next to it. Gently she laid her hand on his wax-like one, lying motionless on the coverlet.
‘I’m here, Grandfather,’ she whispered softly, a sob catching in her throat. ‘Please forgive me for having been away when you needed me.’
‘Nena?’ Slowly the old eyes opened and his head moved stiffly on the pillow. ‘Ah, my child, you are here.’ He closed them again and squeezed her
hand weakly. ‘So silly of me to get worse just at the moment,’ he added in a faint voice.
‘Oh, Grandfather, I’m sure that now you’ll get better!’ Nena exclaimed, passing her hand over his brow, determined that somehow she would make him recover, despite the doctor’s dire prognosis.
Don Rodrigo managed a dim smile. ‘Ah, my Nena. You were always such a sweet, determined little thing,’ he whispered.
Just then the door opened, and she looked up to see Doña Augusta and Ramon enter, followed by the middle-aged uniformed nurse.
‘I’m afraid he mustn’t get too tired,’ the nurse said gently, coming forward with a tray. ‘If you would excuse us, Mrs Villalba? I need to give Don Rodrigo his medication.’
Nena experienced a jolt at being called Mrs Villalba. Since their marriage they’d been on the island, and the servants had addressed her as Doña Nena or Kiria Nena, in Greek. It was similar to the way she’d been addressed during her many stays in Argentina. Now the truth of her situation and all its implications sank in as never before.
‘Very well,’ she said, rising and dropping a kiss on her grandfather’s withered brow. ‘I’ll be back later, darling,’ she whispered.
He nodded faintly, but she could see that already he looked paler, that even the few minutes spent with her had exhausted him.
Biting her lip, she turned without so much as a glance at her husband and left the room.
Doña Augusta took her arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Nena,’ she said, slipping her hand over the young girl’s, pained to see her suffering so intensely. ‘Now, come downstairs and have a cup of tea or a drink. You need it. Your grandfather is getting the best possible care.’
Nena merely nodded. Her mind was full of so many troubled thoughts that she could barely concentrate on what her mother-in-law was saying. Once they were in the drawing room she remained vaguely aware of Ramon, standing near the fireplace, his mouth set in a hard line and a frown creasing his thick dark brows. Maybe he was upset that the honeymoon had been interrupted. Well, that was just tough luck. She shouldn’t have been away in the first place, let alone doing what she had been doing.
The Society Bride Page 4