The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride (14 page)

The pressure of his mouth eased a fraction as his kiss became a flagrant seduction of her senses and, unable to resist his mastery, Grace curled her arms around his neck and clung to him.

‘Tell me honestly, Grace, do you find my touch abhorrent?' he demanded roughly. ‘Do you despise the feel of my mouth on yours?' His golden eyes gleamed with passion and injured pride, and Grace could almost believe that she had hurt him. Slowly she shook her head from side to side, and then gasped when he released the ties of her bikini top and peeled the clingy material from her breasts. ‘Do you hate it when I caress you here?' He rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb and she whimpered as sensation racked her. ‘Or here?' He stroked her other breast and then lowered his head and used his tongue with such devastating effect that she groaned and twisted her hips in an agony of need.

‘I'm waiting for your answer.' The sound of his harsh voice forced her to open her eyes and meet his gaze. She wanted to reject him and wipe the arrogant smile from his face, but her body was on fire and she was desperate for him to continue his skilful ministrations.

‘I…don't…hate it,' she said thickly and saw the flare of hunger in his eyes before he took her mouth once more and demolished the last vestiges of her pride. She wanted him so much that she trembled with it. There was a nagging ache low in her stomach, and she could feel the heat between her legs. Would it really be so wrong to abandon her principles and give herself up to the pleasure of his full possession? she wondered feverishly.

She felt his hand drift down over her stomach and then lower, to caress the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. With consummate ease he nudged her legs apart and she held her breath when he slid his fingers beneath her bikini pants. At first he simply stroked her soft, downy curls but then slowly, inexorably, he separated the delicate folds of her flesh and eased into her. Instantly her muscles clamped around his finger and she gave a startled cry when he began to explore her, each pulsing stroke sending her higher and higher until she felt as though she was teetering on the edge of some magical place.

‘Javier…' Overwhelmed by sensation, she dug her nails into his shoulders as if she needed to anchor herself to something solid. His fingers were now performing an erotic dance deep within her, and she sobbed his name as the first spasms of exquisite pleasure ripped through her body. It was so beautiful, but so wrong. She shouldn't have been doing this—not with a man who had no respect for her and considered her his property because he had bought her.

‘Shh, easy,
cara mia
. It's all right,' Javier murmured huskily. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, but Grace pushed against his chest while tears streamed down her face.

‘It's not all right—I shouldn't be doing this. I don't love you,' she told him wildly, shaking her head so fiercely that her hair fell forwards and covered her breasts. ‘I don't hate your touch—that much is obvious—but I hate myself,' she whispered brokenly.

‘But we're married!' Javier said explosively. ‘If you won't make love with me when you're my wife, what the hell would you have done if I'd only offered to help your father in return for you becoming my mistress?'

Grace shivered. ‘I would have done anything to save Dad from prison,' she said honestly. ‘I was even prepared to have sex with you, although it went against everything I believe in, but I'd planned on getting drunk first so that I wouldn't remember too much about it.'

Javier rolled onto his back and swore savagely in his native tongue. ‘You are
so
good for my ego,
querida
. Why don't you just kick me between the legs and have done with it?'

Again Grace caught a raw note of pain mixed with his anger and she bit her lip. Was it possible that she'd hurt him? For some curious reason the thought made her want to cry. ‘I'm sorry, but you knew how I felt. For me, love and desire are inextricably linked, and one day I hope I'll meet someone who values my heart as well as my body.'

‘You're prepared to deny your body the pleasure it craves for the sake of a misguided belief in a fairy tale?' Javier demanded scathingly. ‘Well, I wish you joy on your pedestal of self-righteousness, but if you ever decide to join the real world let me know, because however much you want to deny it I am the
only
man who turns you on.'

P
ALE
slivers of sunlight filtered through the curtains and slanted across the pillows. With a soft sigh Grace opened her eyes, the sight of Javier's face so close to hers making her heart leap, as it had done every morning for the past two months.

Two months—the time she'd spent at El Castillo de Leon—had passed so quickly, but rather than hoping that the next ten months went as swiftly she found herself wishing that time would stand still.

What was he doing to her, this magician who had cast his spell over her? She stared at him, noting how his long black lashes brushed against his cheeks, softening his hard features. In sleep he looked more relaxed, almost boyish, and she felt her heart swell with emotion. When she'd first met him she had believed him to be in league with the devil, and had never expected that she could care for him. But during these first months of their marriage she'd learned that the Duque de Herrera did have a heart—he just kept it well hidden beneath a veneer of cold indifference.

Not that he was cold towards her, she conceded as she propped her head on her elbow in order to study him more clearly. Although he was often busy working in his study, or at the Herrera bank's offices in Granada, he seemed to go out of his way to spend time with her. Often he would take a break and ask her to walk with him in the grounds of the castle, and at dinner each night he was a witty and amusing companion who flirted with her unashamedly and made her long to accept the bold invitation in his eyes.

But since the traumatic last night of their honeymoon he had made no further attempts to make love to her, and the only time he kissed her was in front of the castle staff—presumably to reinforce the belief that their marriage was real. That was the reason he had insisted she must sleep in his bed, but once they were alone together each night he took scrupulous care not to touch her.

She couldn't fault his behaviour, she thought dismally. True, he would often stroll naked between the bedroom and en-suite bathroom with a nonchalant ease that made her blush. But he always donned a pair of silk boxers before he climbed into bed, and within minutes of dimming the light he was asleep, while she lay awake half the night, tormented by the desire to sidle over to his side of the mattress.

Lust, love—she was so confused that she didn't know where one ended and the other began and she was beginning not to care. Javier dominated her thoughts, and she couldn't bear to think ahead to a time when he would no longer need to keep up the pretence of a happily married man. When she had agreed to his marriage proposition, she had promised that she would never fall in love with him. Now she wasn't so sure.

But that was a dangerous path to follow, she acknowledged bleakly as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the billowing drapes above the four-poster bed. Day by day, little by little, Javier was encroaching on her heart, but there was no chance he would ever love her, and ten months from now he would evict her from his life with the ruthless efficiency for which he was renowned.

‘
Bueños dias, querida,
did you sleep well?'

Was the faintly teasing note in his voice because he knew she had spent hours tossing and turning while her body
throbbed
with sexual frustration? He definitely had a Machiavellian streak, Grace decided when she turned her head and met his bland gaze.

‘Like the dead,' she assured him blithely. ‘I had a wonderfully undisturbed night.'

‘Really? I thought you might have had a nightmare, the way you were squirming around.'

‘I was not squirming.' She sat bolt upright and glared at him, her cheeks on fire when she noted the wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘Perhaps
I
was dreaming, then. I wish I hadn't woken up,' he added softly, putting up an arm to defend himself when she snatched up her pillow and pummelled him with it.

‘So, you want to play, do you?' he grinned, taking her by surprise when he took the pillow from her with insulting ease and flipped her onto her back. The teasing gleam in his eyes was still there, but as he stared down at her it faded, to be replaced with stark hunger. ‘You are so very lovely,
querida
, and I have been so very patient, hmm? Keeping to my side of the bed.'

‘You're not on your side now,' she murmured huskily, feeling her body's instant reaction to the brush of his rough thighs pinning her to the mattress.

‘Neither are you. We are in no-man's-land, where the rules of warfare no longer count.'

‘I'm not at war with you.' A lock of hair had fallen across his brow, and with a helpless sigh she gave in to the urge to stroke it back, her fingers shaking slightly as she ran them through the luxuriant black silk. He was so gorgeous, she couldn't think straight when he was close—and right now he couldn't get much closer. She should push him away, but instead she curled her hands around his shoulders, revelling in the feel of his satiny skin beneath her fingertips. ‘I thought we had become friends,' she whispered shyly.

‘Friends.' He paused to consider the word and then gave her a smile that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘And sleeping partners. Although I think it fair to say that neither of us gets much sleep. Would you agree,
querida
?'

It was pointless to deny it when she was practically melting beneath him. ‘Yes.' She swallowed at the lambent warmth in his gaze, and watched as he slowly lowered his head until with a low murmur she closed the gap between them and brushed her lips over his. For a moment he allowed her to control the kiss, but as the fire built he became all intense, dominant male, and claimed her mouth with a drugging sensuality that left her weak with longing.

‘Javier…' Her lips grazed his throat as she whispered his name, but she made no move to stop him when he slid the strap of her nightdress over her shoulder, exposing one small, creamy breast to his hungry gaze. His lips trailed a leisurely path down to the valley between her breasts as he tugged the other strap down, and when her breast spilled into his hand he bent over her and stroked his tongue across her nipple before drawing it fully into his mouth.

The sensation was so intense that she moaned and twisted her hips in a restless invitation, her mind shuttered to anything but the driving need for him to touch her in the intimate place between her legs. She made no demur when he pushed her nightgown over her hips, but when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her matching lace knickers a tremor ran through her and she tensed.

‘You want me, Grace,' Javier muttered, his accent so pronounced that she had to concentrate on his words. ‘Who needs love when we share a passion as deep and intense as this?'

‘I do.' She closed her eyes on a wave of despair at the impotent frustration in his. ‘You're skilled in the art of seduction, Javier—no doubt you've had a lot of practice,' she said bleakly. ‘You press all the right buttons and I want you so much it
hurts
. But without love and trust what would we have, other than a few moments of empty pleasure?

‘Take my body if you want!' she cried when the bunched muscles of his shoulders and the harshness of his expression warned that he was close to losing his self-control. ‘I couldn't stop you if I tried, we both know that. But you would demolish what little self-respect I have left, after the things I've done recently.'

‘What things?' Javier demanded savagely. ‘Grace, are you
ashamed
of marrying me?' He reared back as if she had slapped him.

‘I'm not proud of lying,' she admitted huskily. ‘Making false promises in the chapel that I knew I would never keep. But I love my father more than anyone in the world. He should never have stolen all that money from you, but I understand why he did it. He'd suffered enough losing my mother, and my pride was a small price to pay when it meant that he was free from the threat of a prison sentence.'

‘You have more principle than a whole convent of nuns,' Javier growled sarcastically. ‘Perhaps it's a good thing that I'm going away for a while.' He swung his legs over the side of the bed and thrust his arms into his robe before striding over to the en suite.

‘Away? Where?'

‘Madrid. I have a series of meetings at the bank's head office and a number of social invitations that suddenly look like a lot more fun than staying here with you.'

‘Won't your friends think it strange if you turn up alone?' Grace snapped, stung by his bitter contempt. ‘I thought we were supposed to be fostering the illusion that we're a couple of lovebirds.'

‘I'll think of an excuse for your absence—tell them you're ill or something,' he told her indifferently. ‘Although I suppose there's a danger that they'll believe you're pregnant. Little do they know it would be the Immaculate Conception,' he muttered sardonically. ‘Anyway, I won't be alone; Lucita's coming with me. She's persuaded her father that it's time she hit Madrid's social scene,' he added when Grace's eyebrows shot up.

‘And you've been appointed her babysitter?' She forced her voice to sound disinterested, but inside she was a seething mass of confused emotions. ‘How trying for you.'

‘I'm sure I'll survive—at least Lucita knows how to enjoy herself.'

‘I bet she does,' Grace said grittily, remembering how the stunning Spanish girl had flirted outrageously with Javier at a dinner party they'd attended recently. ‘Isn't she a little young for you?'

‘Why,
querida
, I could almost believe you're jealous.' Javier paused in the doorway of the bathroom and gave her a bland smile.

‘Well I'm not, so don't flatter yourself,' she told him waspishly. ‘I shall look forward to a bit of peace and quiet when you've gone, so don't hurry back.'

Two weeks later Grace dismally acknowledged that Javier seemed to be in no tearing rush to return to the castle. His excuse was an unexpectedly heavy workload—problems at the bank's head office—and certainly he'd sounded tired on the few occasions he'd phoned her. But perhaps his exhaustion and reluctance to come home were for other reasons? Twice she had telephoned his Madrid apartment—on a flimsy excuse that she'd spent ages thinking up—only to have her call answered by a woman whose sensual, exotic accent caused jealousy to eat away at her like acid.

It had not been Lucita—the sexy voice had definitely belonged to a sophisticated woman of the world rather than a teenager. So who had Javier been entertaining in his bachelor pad at almost ten p.m.—one of his ex-mistresses? She should have plucked up the courage to ask him, Grace told herself impatiently, rather than slamming the phone down and spending another sleepless night imagining him making love to some stunning beauty in his bedroom with the mirrored ceiling.

She didn't understand why she was so upset, she told Luca. Like her, Javier's dog was also pining for his master, and he followed Grace around the castle like a faithful shadow. Now he padded over and laid his big head in her lap, looking up at her with his unblinking black eyes.

‘I don't care what he gets up to, or who he's with,' she told the dog fiercely. But she had a feeling that Luca knew she was lying. The
castillo
was a quiet and sombre place without the Duque, and now that he was gone she realised just how much time they had spent together. ‘Is it so wrong to admit that I miss him?' she whispered, burying her face in Luca's silky coat. ‘But if I feel like this now, how much worse will I feel when our marriage ends?' Luca licked her hand sympathetically and she patted him. ‘I'm not in love with him,' she told the animal seriously. ‘I just can't stop thinking about him, that's all.'

It was another three days before she heard the whir of Javier's helicopter as it came in low over the mountains. Standing in the garden, Grace shielded her eyes with her hand to watch it land and then, on impulse, fled upstairs to change out of her shorts and tee shirt into one of the elegant day dresses that filled her wardrobe. Her fingers were shaking as she untied her hair so that it fell loose around her shoulders. She didn't want to look as though she'd made an effort, she told herself sternly, but couldn't resist applying a touch of lipgloss to her mouth and spraying her wrists liberally with perfume.

Javier was home and suddenly even the ancient stone walls of the castle seemed to be smiling. As she hurried through the front door she saw him striding across the courtyard, and was unprepared for the effect the sight of him had on her. Her heart seemed to stop beating and then started again at twice its normal pace. Butterflies were dancing in her stomach and her hands were clammy as her greedy eyes absorbed the harsh beauty of his face.

She'd missed him so much, she thought weakly, pausing in the shadowed porch while she sought to gain some kind of control over her emotions. He glanced up and saw her, and his mouth curved into a devastating smile that blew her good intentions to the four winds.

‘Javier!' She raced down the steps, barely aware of the delivery van backing up the drive, but from the corner of her eye she caught a streak of black shooting out from the side entrance and she screamed, ‘Luca—no!'