Valaquez Bride (3 page)

Those companionable times had ended last year, however.
When the Valaquez men had entered their lives, she had been interested
in the wrong one while Uncle Will had suddenly decided to climb
society's ladder by marrying her off to Pablo. While she had tried to
explain to him that she couldn't marry Pablo, he had insisted she was
being unduly apprehensive about such a marriage. And considering his
advancing years and the debt she owed him, Juliet had been unwilling to
allow their disagreement to deteriorate into a bitter battle of wills.
Fearing they might lose all the closeness they had shared if they
continued to argue, she had decided retreat was in order. So she had
left Granada with Benny, as much for her uncle's sake as her own.

The sound of the
sala
doors opening
roused Juliet from her disturbing memories. She sat up straighter on
the sofa but as she turned, the smile she had meant for Rosita faded
abruptly from her lips. Heat suffused her cheeks. Her hands began to
tremble. Her amber eyes widened with surprise as her heart seemed to
lurch against her breastbone, then plunge down to her stomach. She
couldn't quite catch her breath. It wasn't Rosita who was walking into
the
sala
. It was Raul Valaquez and the expression
on his angular face made Juliet realize that if he had owned a dungeon,
he would have gladly tossed her in it.

Every muscle in Juliet's body seemed paralyzed. Raul
walked into the circle of lamplight, stopping only a few feet from the
sofa where she sat, unable to move.

"Well, Juliet," he murmured tonelessly. "This is something
of a surprise."

She could only stare at him. In her thoughts during the
past months, he had become a nebulous being, almost unreal. Now that he
was within touching distance and she had heard the deep timber of his
voice again, she was disconcerted by the conflicting emotions rising in
her. She had nearly forgotten exactly how tall and muscularly lean he
was and how overwhelmingly masculine. Her body traitorously responded
to the reality of him, her senses reawakening to the vital aura of male
magnetism that had always intrigued her. Though she berated herself for
being so aware of him, she couldn't help noticing how his dark vested
suit subtly defined broad powerful shoulders, tapered waist and lean
hips. The muscular lineation of his long legs was accentuated as he
widened his stance, flicked back the sides of his unbuttoned coat, and
placed lean brown hands on his hips, his long fingers slipping inside
his trouser pockets, as he assumed a posture that was at the very least
intimidating, if not downright threatening.

Subjected to his relentless stare, Juliet felt rather like
a germ under a microscope and swallowed convulsively. He looked the
same, yet different somehow. The chiseled features of his dark
aristocratic face were unchanged, except perhaps for a tauter set of
his strong jaw. Yet, as Juliet stared silently at him, she began to
recognize an unfamiliar iciness in his green eyes, eyes that had never
failed to fascinate her. Dark jade, they commanded attention because
they were set in such a bronzed, obviously Spanish face and should have
been black or at least brown. But Pablo had once explained Raul owed
their unusual color to the bride of Rafael Valaquez, the family's
eighteenth century black sheep, supposedly a pirate who kidnapped a
green-eyed Englishwoman, with whom he subsequently fell in love and
married. Juliet had suspected this story was more family fiction than
fact but now, impaled by Raul's piercingly cold green eyes, she could
believe one of his ancestors had been a ruthless pirate. His merciless
appraisal of her conveyed no hint of the tenderly amused indulgence she
had become accustomed to last year.

Looking up at him, she could scarcely breathe. Then, when
two long strides brought him to the sofa and he stood towering over
her, it took all her courage not to shrink back against the cushion.
Why was he here? And why did he look so furious? Though she had
expected him to be displeased with her, she hadn't imagined he would be
this angry because she hadn't wanted to marry Pablo. After all, his
grandmother had never been thrilled with having an American girl as a
prospective granddaughter-in-law. So why was Raul looking at her as if
she had committed an unpardonable sin?

Rose color bloomed in her cheeks as he continued to stare
down at her, those magnificent eyes icy, yet conveying a vague
resentment. At last, she could withstand his intense scrutiny no
longer. Jumping to her feet, she walked jerkily across the room but
Raul followed, stopping so close behind her that his warm breath
stirred a tendril of her hair as he spoke, "Well, what do you have to
say for yourself?"

Juliet spun around, stilling her trembling hands by
clenching them into fists at her sides. Her heart was beginning to thud
quite violently as she took a step backward, intimidated by his very
size and far too aware of the fresh familiar lime scent of after shave
that emanated faintly from him. To avoid looking directly at him, she
instead riveted her gaze on the strong smooth column of his neck,
noticing how the crisp white collar of his shirt accentuated his
mahogany skin. She felt rather stupid, just standing there staring at
the pulse beating strongly in his throat but she was totally unable to
answer his question, having no idea what it even meant.

After what seemed an eternity of dreadful silence, Raul
reached out as if he meant to touch her but he let his hand drop to his
side again. "Juliet," he muttered brusquely, "I want an explanation."

She gestured nervously. "Explanation of what?"

"Everything," he retorted obliquely. "You might start by
explaining why you've come home now, after all this time."

The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her dry lips and
because she forced herself to look directly at him, her voice was
embarrassingly shaky when she answered at last. "I've come
t—to see Uncle Will, of course. I read about his accident."

A sardonic smile curved Raul's lips and added a
ruthlessness to his finely chiseled features. "Since you've shown so
little concern for Will in the past eleven months, I'm surprised even
his accident brought you back here. But that's not the only explanation
I want—I want to know why you ran away in the first place.
You obviously decided you didn't want to marry Pablo, but wouldn't it
have been more mature of you to tell him that, instead of sneaking away
without a word to him and with only a brief note to Will? That was a
childish way to solve your problem, Juliet. I know you were only twenty
but I'd always assumed you had some regard for other people's feelings.
I certainly was wrong. You were so eager to run off with your
third-rate rock singer you didn't even have the decency to talk to
Pablo. What a disappointment you turned out to be."

Unprepared for this unjustified attack, Juliet took a
sharp breath, her cheeks paling, then flaming scarlet as angry
resentment erupted. He really had some nerve! How dare he stand there
and act as if this situation had been her fault. She hadn't owed Pablo
any explanation for leaving. She had never been romantically interested
in him nor wanted to even consider marrying him and she had told him so
as gently as possible countless times. But Pablo had insistently
pursued her and elicited the support of both her uncle and Raul and now
she was being blamed for the whole foolish mess! Her amber eyes
glittered as she glared at Raul, wanting badly to tell him his family's
ideas about marriage were archaic and ridiculous. But the expression on
his face kept her silent. She was indignant, not suicidal, and besides,
knowing how extremely close-knit Spanish families were, she didn't
imagine Raul would listen if she tried to tell him Pablo had simply
pushed her too far.

Tilting her small chin up, she gave him what she hoped
seemed a cool unconcerned smile instead. "I'm sorry you're disappointed
in me. But maybe you're right. I guess I was too young last year to
think of marriage."

"I guess you were," he responded tautly, a muscle ticking
with fascinating regularity in his clenched jaw. "But immature or not,
you should have had the decency to tell Pablo you didn't want to marry
him. He thought you were very serious about him. Even our grandmother
assumed you were because you went out with him without a
duenna
."

"A
duenna
! Good grief, I thought
chaperones were passé these days, even in Spain," Juliet answered
flatly. "Besides, I'm sure your grandmother wasn't heartbroken when I
left. She would never have approved of Pablo marrying me."

"She told you that?" Raul questioned, a deep frown marring
his brow. "She actually said she didn't approve of you?"

Juliet shrugged. "Well, she didn't actually come right out
and say that but I got the message. It was obvious from all the
disapproving glances and all the little hints that she dropped that she
would much rather see Pablo marry a little señorita from another fine
old Spanish family. You know, she wanted him to marry an aristocrat,
not a little commoner like me."

For an instant, a strange light appeared in Raul's
narrowed eyes but the coldness returned almost immediately. "If my
grandmother made you feel unwanted, I apologize. But her behavior
certainly doesn't excuse your own. If you cared about no one else, you
should have cared about Will. He was very upset and worried about you
when he got up that morning and found you gone. And it's been
embarrassing for him to have all his friends know you ran away. In
Spain, young women show a great deal more respect to the elder men in
their families."

"Well, well, now I begin to see why you're so angry," she
rejoined, smiling up at him much more tauntingly than she meant to.
"You think a mere female like me shouldn't have dared defy a male, even
if he was trying to control my life, don't you? I guess that's why
you're looking at me as if you could kill me—I actually had
the nerve to show disrespect for a man. Me! A mere female! Really, I
thought all those years you lived in England might have rid you of the
old-fashioned sexist notion that men must be lords and masters and
women must be their willing obedient slaves. Obviously, I was mistaken.
You're still Spanish through and through. Well, I guess I should go
down on my knees and beg forgiveness for bruising your precious male
ego but maybe an apology will suffice. If I upset your antiquated
ideals, then I
am
so terribly sorry."

Juliet's defensive mockery elicited swift and ungentle
retaliation. Raul's hand shot out, hard lean fingers clasping around
her wrist. He muttered something in Spanish that needed no translation
because his tone indicated quite clearly that his words were far from
complimentary. "You really are a silly little girl, aren't you,
Juliet?" His icy green eyes raked over her, conveying anger and obvious
disdain. "
I
won't tolerate your disrespect so
watch what you say to me. I've often thought during the past year that
you needed a good spanking and if you persist in this little outburst
of defiance, I might be very tempted to turn you over my knee."

"You wouldn't dare hit me!" she gasped softly, dismayed
that his mere threat made her legs weaken beneath her.
"Y—you're bluffing."

"Am I, Juliet?" he countered with a devilish smile. "Why
don't you try me and see."

Detecting the menacing glint in his eyes, Juliet had to
wonder if he would carry out this threat if she pushed him too far.
Impotent fury built in her and she tried to twist free of his iron-hard
grip. As his lean fingers simply tightened, pressing down to the
delicate bones of her wrist, she winced. Regret flickered in his dark
face, then vanished almost before she recognized it, but his hold on
her did ease. His fingers became caressing, brushing with evocative
lightness over the frantically beating pulse. Now, his touch was
electric, evoking a wicked warmth that spread through Juliet's limbs.
To mask her reaction, she stiffened, only her wide eyes darting up to
meet the enigmatic glimmer in his. "Let me go," she insisted. "You're
hurting me."

As he surveyed her delicate features intently, he allowed
his gaze to drift down and linger on her soft, slightly parted lips. He
shook his head, whispering, "No. I'm not hurting you and I don't want
to let you go. Yet."

He began to pull her slowly toward him and Juliet's free hand came up to press against his hard
chest, an involuntary attempt to protect herself. "Raul, please," she
whispered breathlessly. "Let me go."

As the iciness returned to his eyes and he lifted his
broad shoulders in a bored shrug and released her wrist, Juliet swiftly
stepped away from him, her own gaze unwittingly reproachful. "Why are
you here?" she asked impulsively. "I mean, since Uncle Will's not here,
why did you come?"

"Rosita called me at the gallery to tell me you'd come
home." Raul's expression hardened though he gave Juliet a mocking
smile. "She knew I was going to visit Will at the hospital and
suggested I take you with me since you meant to go tonight too."

Damn Rosita and her foolish interference, Juliet fumed
silently, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides. Though she
knew the housekeeper had meant well, she wished she had minded her own
business. This confrontation with Raul was the last thing Juliet had
needed. As usual, simply seeing Raul was enough to upset her
equilibrium. She was certain she would never be able to maintain even a
semblance of composure if she went with him to the hospital. Bending
her head, veiling her eyes with the thick fringe of her long, brown
lashes, she murmured, "I'd rather see Uncle Will alone and since it's
already seven-thirty, why don't you go visit him now? I'll drive over
later."

"No. I'll take you with me," Raul replied, his sensuously
carved lips thinning into a grim line of warning when she started to
protest. Then those cold green eyes raked mercilessly over her. "Go
change into some decent clothes, preferably a dress. Your free spirited
singer might not mind if you look like a derelict but I do, and so will
Will. And I don't think it will inconvenience you too much to look
presentable when you see him for the first time in nearly a year."