The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride (18 page)

Grace couldn't deny the intrinsic truth of the Spanish girl's statement and, not trusting herself to make any further comment, she hurried across the room towards the French doors, in desperate need of fresh air. It wasn't true, she told herself over and over again—Javier could be ruthless when he wanted his own way, but he would never have deliberately made love to her without protection to ensure that she conceived his child.

But he had purposefully withheld knowledge of the clause in his grandfather's will that demanded he produce an heir, she acknowledged bleakly. Instinctively her hands moved to her stomach. He wasn't a cruel man—he had shown her kindness and consideration as well as passion during the first half of their marriage. Had it all been a ploy to lull her into a false sense of security before he demanded custody of her baby?

Lucita had to be lying, she thought feverishly. The man she had fallen in love with wasn't capable of such callous behaviour. There was only one way that she could settle her fears, and that was to ask him outright if there had been an additional clause in Carlos's will—before she told him of her suspicions that she was pregnant.

She scanned the room, frantically searching for his tall, lean frame. He always stood out in a crowd, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Her eyes swung to the wide, recessed window just in time to witness Lucita put her arm around him and kiss him fully on the cheek. Far from looking annoyed, Javier threw back his head and laughed, and for Grace it was the final straw. Bile burned a corrosive path in her throat, and with a muffled sob she ran from the room, stopping only to inform Torres that she felt unwell and was retiring to her room. She knew the butler would immediately pass on the news to Javier, but somehow she doubted he would care—he had his hands full, quite literally, with his sexy Spanish seductress.

‘G
RACE
, unlock the door or I swear I'll break it down.'

Grace sat huddled on the end of the bed, and watched the heavy wooden door rattle in its frame. Javier wasn't joking—any minute now she feared that the door would actually give way beneath the force of his blows. Dared she let him in? She didn't know what to say to him, how to face him without revealing her heartbreak that had seen her spend the last hour weeping silently into the pillows.

‘Grace! Are you ill? Torres said you felt unwell. Speak to me, damn it.' There followed a torrent of swearwords in low-pitched Spanish, a brief silence and then the sound of something heavy being rammed against the door.

Never mind knocking the door down, he was going to bring the castle crumbling around their ears, Grace thought angrily as she scrambled off the bed and marched over to the door. She turned the key and yanked the door wide open, just as he was about to land another blow with one of the solid oak chairs that usually stood in the hallway.

‘What do you want?'

‘What do I want?'
He slowly lowered the chair and glowered at her, looking so devastatingly sexy with his shirt buttons half-undone and his hair flopping onto his brow that despite everything her knees felt weak, and she gripped the door frame for support. ‘An explanation would be nice,
querida
,' he drawled sardonically. ‘Do you have a valid reason for your temper tantrum, or is it simply a bid for attention?'

‘At least you're honest enough to admit that it was necessary for me to do
something
to drag you away from Lucita's juvenile charms,' Grace replied sweetly. ‘Tell me truthfully, Javier, why didn't you just marry her when you had the chance, rather than putting us all through this whole miserable charade?'

‘By “miserable charade” I take it you are referring to our marriage?' Javier growled savagely, his eyes glittering with fury as he pushed her backwards into the room and kept on pushing until she hit the bed with the backs of her legs and collapsed onto the mattress. In the lamplight he could plainly see the streaks of tears on her cheeks, and his eyes narrowed. ‘What's all this about, hmm?' he queried in a softer tone. ‘Did Lucita say something to upset you? I know she's a little tease at times, but she means no harm.'

‘Doesn't she?' Grace gave a bitter laugh. ‘Well, you know her better than me. Do you think I didn't notice the way you let her put her arms around you tonight?' He'd been lavishing the Spanish girl with the tender affection that
she
so desperately craved.

‘I've known her since she was a baby!' Javier said explosively. ‘I suppose I regard her as the little sister I never had.'

‘How sweet! And do you confide in your “sister”, Javier? Do you tell her your most personal secrets—like the reason why you married me?'

‘I've told no one,' he denied forcefully. ‘The only person aware of the stipulations my grandfather made in will is his lawyer, Ramon Aguilar.'

Stipulations
—so there had been more than one, Grace noted with a shiver. Lucita hadn't been lying; the final clause in Carlos Herrera's will, must have been for Javier to produce an heir before he could secure his place as head of the Herrera bank. Suddenly she felt bone weary and she longed to crawl away to a dark place and lick her wounds. ‘Well, Lucita knows, and you told her.' She flung the accusation at him. ‘You must have done—how else would she have known?' she added when he loomed over her, flames of fury dancing in his amber gaze.

‘I thought I could trust you,' she went on bitterly. ‘But once again my judgement where men are concerned is seriously flawed. Don't touch me!' A shudder ran through her and she reared away from him when he tried to drag her into his arms. ‘I want nothing more to do with you, and from now on I'll be sleeping in my own room until we can end this sham of a marriage.'

‘The hell you will!' Javier foiled her attempt to scramble off the bed by lifting her off her feet and throwing her down onto the mattress with barely concealed savagery. Before she could react, he came down on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands while the other tore at the laces that fastened the bodice of her dress. ‘You've tried and convicted me without allowing me a word in my defence. But I don't give a damn what you think,
querida
. You're mine, bought and paid for, and I'll dismiss you from my bed when
I'm
ready, not before.'

‘You can't do this,' Graced hissed between her teeth as she struggled wildly beneath him. ‘You…barbarian!' She gave a cry when he wrenched the front of her dress apart, exposing her small breasts, which to her horror had already swelled in anticipation of his touch so that her nipples stood out as two provocative peaks.

‘Who's going to stop me?' Javier said with a harsh laugh. He dragged her sleeves from her shoulders and pushed her dress down until it bunched around her waist, before skimming his hand over her rib-cage to curl possessively around one soft mound. ‘You,
querida
?' he taunted. ‘I don't think so.'

His mouth curved into a cruel smile as he watched her pupils dilate. The one thing he could be sure of was her desire for him and right now he couldn't give a damn about anything else. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across one breast, heard her whimper and drew the peak of her nipple fully into his mouth to torment her until she twisted her hips restlessly. Judging the exact moment when her pleasure became unbearable, he transferred his mouth to her other breast and meted the same punishment until she stopped fighting him and dug her nails into his shoulders.

Grace moaned when she felt Javier slide his hand beneath her long skirt and move with unerring precision to the top of her thighs. She was on fire for him, her whole body a limp mass of quivering need, and she was aware of the flood of heat between her legs as her body prepared for his full possession.

‘You won't stop me, Grace, and we both know why.' His voice smashed though the haze of sensuality that held her in its thrall and his triumphant tone sent her crashing back down to earth. How could she be so weak that one touch of his skilful hands was enough to have her practically beg him to take her?

‘Why?' she croaked, finding no hint of softness in his glittering gaze.

‘Because you can't resist me. Because you need me,' he said, his eyes glittering with triumph.

For a few seconds her heart actually seemed to stop beating, and she licked her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue.

‘What on earth makes you think that?' she demanded, striving to sound cool and controlled, and failing miserably.

‘You told me,' he said simply, watching her eyes cloud with confusion. ‘Not with words, perhaps, but with your actions. Why else would you have come to me in Madrid and begged me to make love to you? You were adamant that you wouldn't have sex with a man you did not love,' he reminded her when she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. ‘But you couldn't deny the fierce passion that burns between us.'

Oh! How could she have been so obvious? She had been so focused on her belief that giving her virginity to him had been the right thing for her to do—because she loved him—that she had given no thought to what he would make of her motives. He must have been secretly laughing at her for months.

Utterly humiliated, her desire drained away, and she shuddered when he dipped his fingers beneath her French knickers and moved inexorably towards the heart of her femininity. She had to stop him before he demolished every last vestige of her pride. Calling on all her reserves, she forced her lips into an amused smile.

‘As ever, Javier, you're right. You said yourself, lust is a powerful emotion, and I came to you because I felt it was time I stopped living like a nun. Everyone had gained something from our marriage except me, and I decided to make the most of your reputed skill between the sheets. A reputation that's well deserved, I might add,' she drawled, ignoring the smouldering fury in his eyes. ‘You make an excellent stud, Javier.'

‘I'm glad you think so,
querida
,' he said pleasantly, but she wasn't fooled by his smile. Without giving her time to react, he dragged her knickers down her legs and pushed her thighs apart with one firm hand, while the other moved to the zip of his trousers.

‘No!' Nausea swept through her and she put up her hands to ward him off. Despite everything she'd learned about him tonight, she still loved him—even though the realisation made her question her sanity. She couldn't bear for him to take her in anger and turn something she found so beautiful into a primitive act of vengeance.

And what about the baby? she thought frantically. After everything Lucita had told her, she didn't dare reveal to him that she might have conceived his child. She needed some time alone to come to terms with her pregnancy before facing up to the fear that he would want to take her baby from her when he divorced her. ‘Don't do this, Javier,' she pleaded as she watched the zip descend. ‘Don't make me hate you.'

‘You think I care? Love, hate, they're all the same to me,' he growled savagely, but as he positioned himself above her, and moved to drag his trousers over his hips, he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes and swore long and hard.

‘
Dios
Grace, what are you doing to me? I have never taken a woman by force in my life.' With hands that shook slightly, he refastened his zip and jerked to his feet, his eyes glittering with contempt as he twitched her skirt down over her naked thighs. ‘You couldn't hate me more than I hate myself,' he told her in a flat, emotionless voice that belied the shaft of pain in his eyes. ‘I've always known that I am unlovable—I was told it enough times,' he added harshly. ‘How could I have hoped that you were different—that you saw something in me that was not cold and embittered?'

‘Javier!' The bleakness of his expression tore at her heart and she reached out to him, her hand falling back helplessly when he stiffened and swung away from her. ‘I never meant…I don't think you're heartless…' She broke off, her eyes clouding as she remembered Lucita's taunts that he had deliberately tried to get her pregnant because he'd needed an heir.

‘Then I suggest you revise your opinion,
querida
,' he told her coldly. ‘Because I am as ruthless as my forebears who lived here in El Castillo de Leon.' He gave a hard smile. ‘Did I tell you that Carlos refused to allow my father to visit my grandmother when she was dying? Even though she begged him. Fernando was her only son, but he had gone against my grandfather's wishes by marrying my mother and Carlos banished him from the
castillo
for good. From the day I arrived here as a skinny, underfed peasant boy, I learned that power is everything and love counts for nothing.'

A cold hand of fear crept around Grace's heart. ‘And do you still believe that, Javier?' she whispered. ‘Would you really do
anything
to gain complete power of the Herrera bank?'

‘You already know the answer to that,' he replied as he walked over to the door. ‘Don't look so shattered,
querida
—you knew what you were taking on when you walked into this marriage. You have six more months or so remaining as my wife, and you'd better get used to the idea, because we made a deal and I won't let you go until you've completed your side of it.'

Grace eventually fell into a fitful sleep and woke to find herself alone in the vast bed. She had no idea where Javier had spent the night, and when she was hit by a wave of nausea that necessitated an urgent trip to the bathroom she was thankful that he wasn't around to question the reason for her sickness.

She couldn't stay at the castle, knowing that the fragile life inside her was the final instalment of the deal she had struck with him. The welfare and upbringing of her baby were not up for negotiation, and while she had breath in her body she would fight for custody of the Herrera heir. Her child would be brought up safe in the knowledge of Grace's unconditional love—unlike its father who had been denied affection throughout his formative years.

The queasiness was passing, and she swiftly threw a few of her belongings into a bag, taking care only to pack the items she had brought with her from England rather than anything Javier had bought her. When she crept downstairs, the castle seemed unusually quiet, but as she entered the dining room she stopped dead at the sight of Lucita Vasquez.

‘Where's Javier?' she queried sharply, painfully aware of her sickly pallor and lank hair in contrast to the Spanish girl's glowing beauty.

‘He stormed off somewhere with Luca—after reading me the riot act,' Lucita said sulkily. ‘Why did you have to involve me in your stupid row?'

Grace gave a harsh laugh. ‘You involved yourself. If Javier was angry with you, you only have yourself to blame. It's about time someone told you to grow up.' She broke off and bit her lip when Lucita stared speculatively at her holdall.

‘Oh dear, you're not leaving, are you?' the younger woman enquired in a saccharine tone.