One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (70 page)

‘I don't give a damn,' he told her with supreme arrogance. ‘I'm so hungry for you,
querida
, that I'm close to taking you here and now on the dining table, and to hell with social niceties.'

‘Javier…' Grace took a deep breath. ‘I…don't want to sleep with you.'

He lifted his flute of champagne and drained it before glancing at her, his eyes hooded and heavy with sensual promise. ‘I don't want to sleep with you either; I intend to indulge in other far more pleasurable activities during the long hours of the night.' His eyes skimmed over her in such a frank appraisal that Grace blushed and then ground her teeth in impotent fury when he chuckled. ‘Your act of virginal innocence is such a turn-on,
querida
, as I'm sure you realise,' he drawled hatefully. ‘But you don't have pretend any longer. I prefer a woman who is confident of her sensuality, and I have every expectation that you're a tigress between the sheets.'

‘I wouldn't bank on it,' Grace retorted darkly, and was then forced to drop the conversation when a young woman approached the table, her eyes firmly focused on Javier.

‘I've been looking for you everywhere,' the woman said a shade petulantly. ‘You promised you'd dance with me.'

‘So I did, but as you can see I am talking to my wife,' Javier answered equably. ‘Why don't you ask one of your many young admirers to dance with you?'

‘I only want to dance with you,' came the fierce reply.

The words ‘my wife' caused a peculiar fluttery sensation in Grace's stomach and she could not bring herself to meet Javier's gaze. Instead she studied the young woman who was staring up at him with open adoration in her eyes. Her puppy-like devotion was almost embarrassing, and Grace felt herself tense as she waited for Javier to destroy the girl with one of his cruelly sarcastic comments. Instead he smiled at her, a smile of genuine warmth that lit up his eyes and softened his harsh features.

‘I'm sorry, save me a dance for another time. Look, I think your father's ready to leave.'

‘It's not even midnight yet. Papa's such a bore.' The girl pouted prettily and shook her jet black curls out of her eyes in a deliberately provocative gesture, while totally ignoring Grace. ‘Until next time, then, Javier,' she murmured, blowing him a kiss before she spun round and sauntered across the room.

‘Miguel's going to have trouble with that girl,' Javier remarked. Grace followed his gaze to the girl's curvaceous derrière and was consumed with an emotion that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

‘She's very young. Who is she?' she asked sharply.

‘Lucita Vasquez—her father Miguel was my grandfather's closest friend. Miguel was nearly sixty when she was born, and I fear he has spoiled her beyond redemption,' Javier said, his voice laced with amused affection. ‘Carlos hoped I would marry her and merge our two banking families.'

‘So why didn't you?' Grace snapped. ‘Anyone can see that she's hopelessly in love with you.'

Javier did not deny her statement, but his smile faded. ‘Lucita is in love with a childish illusion, but she would soon discover that I am not her Prince Charming. She would demand more than I'm willing to give to any woman.'

He meant love, Grace realised, wondering why she suddenly felt so empty inside. Unlike Lucita, she was under no illusions about her relationship with the Duque de Herrera. Their marriage was a contract from which they both gained the thing they most wanted. For her it was her father's freedom, and for Javier it was control of the Herrera bank. Stupid, then, to wish that he would smile at her with the warmth he had shown Lucita. They were business partners, nothing more, and she was determined to make him understand that her duties ended outside the bedroom door.

‘Don't you ever get lonely in your ivory tower?' she said thickly. ‘Surely everyone needs love in some form—even you.'

He stared at her speculatively for a few moments. ‘Why cloud issues with nonsensical emotion? In my experience, love is rarely given freely and without conditions attached. Far from being uplifting, it weakens and destroys, and I have no need of it.' His eyes trailed over her ivory silk wedding dress and his mouth curled into a cynical smile. ‘Perhaps you've been seduced by the romance of the situation,
querida
, but don't look for things that can never exist. The only emotion between us is lust, pure and simple—the sexual alchemy that turns your eyes to the colour of the night sky and makes you tremble with desire when I kiss you.'

‘You really think you're God's gift, don't you?' Grace snapped, clinging to her anger to mask her body's traitorous reaction to his words. The searing pleasure of his mouth on hers did make her tremble, but the fact that he was aware of the effect he had on her was
so
humiliating. If he could reduce her to a quivering mass of longing here in front of four hundred guests, what chance did she have of resisting him when they were alone?

The way he was looking at her now, as if he was mentally stripping her, sent a tingle of anticipation through her body. Lust, pure and simple, she reassured herself, but she refused to give in to temptation. For the sake of her pride and self-respect she couldn't afford to.

‘I need some air,' she muttered, jumping to her feet. ‘I think your cousin wants to talk to you,' she added frantically when Javier made to follow her. ‘You'd better go and see what he wants.'

Grace squeezed through the throng of wedding guests, out of the banqueting hall and fled up the stairs, the heavy folds of her dress hampering her steps. She flew along the landing to her room and stopped abruptly as her eyes fell on the stripped bed. With a low cry she crossed the room and flung open the wardrobe to find that it was empty.

A slight movement from the doorway made her swing round. ‘Consuela, where are my things?' she asked the maid urgently.

‘In the master bedroom,' the Spanish girl answered with a smile. ‘
El Duque
asked me to move them for you.'

Fighting the sick feeling in her stomach, Grace raced along the corridor and threw open the door to Javier's room. The magnificent four-poster bed dominated the room, the purple and gold drapes drawn up with silk ties and the sheets turned back invitingly. She'd rather jump into a pit of vipers, Grace thought when her gaze alighted on her nightdress carefully laid out on the counterpane.

During the past few weeks she'd received countless deliveries of clothes, shoes and all manner of other accessories that Javier had obviously deemed necessary for her role as his
duquesa
. The overtly sexy negligées she'd watched Consuela unpack had caused her to blush furiously, much to the maid's delight. Presumably Consuela had selected the pink silk number—with its delicate lace bodice that was so sheer it was practically transparent—with seduction in mind. But the one thought dominating Grace's mind was escape.

‘Shall I help you remove your tiara?' Consuela asked. ‘It's so beautiful, but it must be very heavy.'

‘And priceless,' Grace agreed ruefully. ‘I was so afraid of dropping it that I jammed it on as tight as possible.' She tried to disguise her impatience while Consuela lifted the tiara from her head and removed the pins from her chignon so that her hair tumbled down her back in a sheet of pale brown silk.

‘Torres says that all the Herrera brides have worn this tiara,' the maid explained. ‘It is said to bring them happiness and…' She broke off with a coy giggle. ‘Many babies.'

‘Really?' Grace said dryly. ‘Well, I wouldn't get your hopes up on either score.' She sighed and wished Consuela would go. She liked the young maid very much, but Javier wasn't going to spend all night chatting with his guests and she was determined to find one of her old nightshirts and return to her own room before he came upstairs to demand his conjugal rights.

The thought was enough to make her feel weak and she gasped when his deep sexy drawl sounded from the doorway.

‘
Gracias
, Consuela, you can leave us now.' He addressed the maid but his eyes were focused on Grace and she swallowed at the smouldering heat in his gaze. Too late, she thought wildly, her eyes huge in her pale face, their expression unconsciously pleading as she absorbed his height and the inherent strength of his broad chest.

‘I wasn't expecting you to desert your guests and follow me,' she muttered.

‘I've left them to it,' he replied laconically as he closed the door after Consuela and locked it before pocketing the key. ‘Don't worry, Torres will ensure that nobody will disturb us,' he added, mistaking the reason for her horrified gasp. ‘We will enjoy total privacy for the rest of the night,
querida
.'

‘What about my privacy?' Grace demanded huskily, taking a step backwards as he strolled over to her. He reminded her of a panther—sleek and dark and very, very dangerous—although to be fair she wasn't afraid of him, she conceded dismally. It was herself and her shocking reaction to him that scared her. ‘I want to sleep in my own room,' she stated baldly. ‘I'm tired…and I've got a headache.'

‘Poor baby.' He moved closer until Grace found herself backed up against the dresser.

Someone had placed the pale pink roses that had been her bridal bouquet in a vase so that their exquisite perfume filled the room. Their tight buds were already unfurling, and she watched helplessly as Javier selected a bloom and stroked it gently down her cheek.

‘Did you like your flowers today?' he murmured, his eyes narrowing as she moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘They're beautiful,' she whispered. ‘Roses are my favourite flowers.'

‘I know.' His slow smile told her he was thinking of the first time they'd met, when she had stolen a rose from his garden. ‘They remind me of you, delicately beautiful and perfectly formed—but with thorns that can cause real damage,' he added a shade ruefully. For some reason Grace's eyes were drawn to his hand. She'd noticed the small bandage around it earlier and now she frowned at the visible bloodstain on the cloth.

‘What did you do to your hand?'

‘It's nothing.' He shrugged and stroked his fingers through her hair. His eyes were hooded and slumberous with sensual heat. She should move, Grace thought frantically, but her feet seemed to be welded to the floor, and when he cupped her chin and lifted her face to his she couldn't prevent herself from swaying towards him.

He kissed her with a slow thoroughness that drugged her senses and dismantled her barriers with terrifying ease. How could she fight him, when her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could barely breathe? Would it really be so wrong to give in to the thunderous desire that was coursing through her veins? she wondered feverishly. He was her husband—but their marriage was a sham and she didn't love him.

His lips trailed a path down her throat and settled on the pulse beating frantically at its base. His male scent and the heat emanating from his body inflamed her senses to an unbearable degree, and she gasped her pleasure when he nipped her earlobe with his teeth before claiming her mouth once more in a burning kiss that revealed his impatience to take her to his bed.

‘Javier—no.' She could feel his fingers on her spine, freeing the tiny pearl buttons that fastened her dress, and from somewhere she found the strength to push against his chest. ‘I meant what I said. I won't sleep with you.' She dragged air into her lungs and stared at him wildly. ‘I don't want you.'

‘Don't be ridiculous.' His mocking grin and supreme arrogance made her grit her teeth. ‘I'm not blind,
querida
, I have visible evidence that I turn you on.' His eyes settled on the hard peaks of her nipples straining against the bodice of her wedding dress. ‘You are as hungry for me as I am for you—what's the point in denying the passion your body so clearly craves?'

‘My body may react to your undoubted expertise, but my heart and mind reject you—and they're what count,' she told him so fiercely that his eyes narrowed.

‘But you're my wife.' Before she had time to think, he spun her round and continued to unfasten her dress until he lost patience and wrenched the material apart so that the little pearls pinged in all directions.

‘Don't!' With a sharp cry Grace held the bodice against her breasts. ‘My beautiful dress—you've ruined it,' she flung at him, appalled by his casual desecration of the fairy-tale gown that she had fallen in love with the moment she'd seen it. ‘You're a…barbarian! Is it any wonder that I can't bear you anywhere near me?'

His jaw tightened but when he spoke his voice was calm, almost bored. ‘I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. What's the real issue here, Grace? Have you decided to cash in on my obvious hunger for you? I've already paid a fortune for you, but that went to clear your father's debts. I take it you now want an additional financial incentive in return for sex?'

The crack of her palm against his cheek ricocheted around the room. There followed a moment of stunned silence, and then Grace cried out when he lifted his hands and ripped her dress from her shoulders, leaving her small, pale breasts exposed to his gaze. ‘Javier—no—I won't do this.' She tried to cover herself with her hands, but when he snatched her into his arms she beat her fists on his shoulders, her breath leaving her body when he dropped her onto the bed and immediately came down on top of her, trapping her beneath his hard and fiercely aroused body.