Bound by the Millionaire's Ring(19)

"Oh, Trella," Isidora whispered, and moved her hand from his arm to  cover her heart. "There were so many times when I would ask if I could  come see her and she would say it wasn't a good day. I had no idea it  was ever that bad."

"No one but family does." He looked around, realized where he was, but  no one was on deck except the two of them. Perspiration coated his back  as he leaned forward, letting the breeze ripple his shirt and pull him  back to the present.

"I would never tell anyone."

"I know." He was still impatient with himself. "I shouldn't have said  anything regardless. It's her secret to tell, not mine. I wish I could  say that was the worst of it, but those same panic attacks happened  again and again, sometimes as night terrors, other times hours straight  of racing heart and deep anxiety. She didn't get them under control  until she pulled out of the public eye completely. Even then, it's been a  long haul to get here. We're all holding our breath and is she keeping a  low profile, taking things slow? Hell, no. Not Trella." He flung up an  exasperated hand. "She's sleeping with strangers, getting pregnant by a  damn prince who has his own publicity nightmare to manage. That is why,  cariño, I have forced you into the spotlight with me. I never want her  to go through that again."



Ramon's tormented profile twisted her stomach into a knot.

In so many ways, this man had stolen her heart by being strong. The very  first time she had ever seen him, he had picked her up off the grass at  an executive picnic for Sauveterre International. She'd been five or  six and he had set her on her feet like it was nothing, then called out  to the boys who had rushed past and knocked her down that they should be  more careful.

After the kidnapping, when her father had made house calls to his, she  hadn't understood why her friends were so different, so sad. Even some  of the grown-ups cried sometimes, but if Ramon or Henri wept, they did  it behind closed doors.

By the time she had begun to stir with a more primal, feminine  understanding of male strength, Ramon had been a godlike figure who  dominated her imagination. He'd been a dynamic alpha who tamed a  thousand horses with the pedals of one car. There were no contests he  didn't win, no weights his broad shoulders couldn't carry.

In truth, she had set him up for a role he was too human to live up to.

No wonder he had pushed her away. Who needed that much pressure? He had enough on his plate conquering his personal demons.

But until this moment, she hadn't seen them. Not this closely. Not this nakedly.

She had sat with her hand on his arm while he had revealed the dark  space inside himself. Now he had retreated into it and she wanted to  respect that need for privacy, but more than anything, she wanted to  pull him out of that grim place. There was no way to fix his bleak past,  though. No way to guarantee bad things wouldn't happen in the future.

All she could do was let him know he was not alone in this moment. He  had drafted her into the role of his fiancée. She loved his sisters and  owed his family, so she was willing to continue this engagement, but she  knew in her heart, she was doing it for his sake, too. Because she was  who she was and she did want to make the world a better place, one tiny  ray of light at a time.         

     



 

"I would let myself be photographed topless-"

"Like hell." His head snapped around so fast, and his voice was so dour,  that her heart clenched. It skipped at the same time, buoyed by a giddy  urge to laugh.

She was such an idiot to think he was being protective, to like it, but she still grasped at it as she continued.

"To take the heat off this latest news about Trella."

"I said no."

"But we'd probably have more success if we pretended I dropped my engagement ring overboard."

His thunderous expression eased into a faint smirk.

"You're starting to think like me. I'm not sure that's a good thing." He nodded once. "Let's eat, then go fishing."



They managed an uneasy truce as they finished their travel into Málaga.  Since they were the guests of honor at their engagement party, they  stayed at the hotel where it was being held, rather than at Sus Brazos  with the rest of his family.

The hotel was a completely refurbished nineteenth-century structure. All  the five-star amenities had been added, but the rooms described as  "charming" and "authentic" were actually "small" and "snug." Ramon had  taken their best suite, but with their own guest list competing for  rooms with wealthy vacationers from across Europe, he hadn't been able  to take any extra space.

They were back to either sharing a bed or arguing, until he volunteered  to take that torture device the decorator no doubt called "a delightful  period piece." It looked no bigger than the average love seat and  sported filigreed armrests.

Isidora gave the bed a circumspect glance and asked if he needed the bathroom before she started getting ready.

He nursed a Scotch on the balcony, watching the waves against the beach,  trying not to think of that bed behind him. Yesterday he'd spent the  afternoon lusting after her in a bikini as they'd spent a couple of  hours diving for an engagement ring that was in the safe in his onboard  office.

Damn it, if he wanted sex, Isidora was right. He didn't have to go very  far. He turned down more offers than he accepted. Finding someone to  discreetly take the edge off behind the back of his "fiancée" would not  be difficult. But as he glanced over the topless, golden bodies  wandering in from a day on the sand, he found himself turned off by the  idea of a quick frolic with a stranger.

He wanted Isidora. Since that night in Monaco, he had been obsessively  imagining bringing her to the same kind of shattering orgasm she'd had  in his lap, but pumping into her while it happened, intimately feeling  her contractions of ecstasy, finding his own pleasure at the same time.

Damn, but it was hot this summer!

With a soft curse, he drained his Scotch and chewed an ice cube, then  moved into the air-conditioning, finding no relief as he changed into  his tuxedo.

He had never been so preoccupied by a woman. It was uncomfortable.  Especially when he wanted... He shook his head at himself. He wanted to  be friends. When he had opened up about Trella, Isidora hadn't offered  platitudes like "I understand," or "it will be all right." She had sat  with her warm touch on his arm, waiting to lead him out of his own  closet of fear.

That patient contact had been so profound it seemed to reach all the way to his heart. He had felt understood.

He couldn't ruin that tentative trust by asking her again for an empty affair.

Tying his bow tie, he heard a noise behind him and turned.

And swore.

Isidora was flawless in a black-velvet, one-shoulder gown that hugged  her breasts and hips. It might have bordered on unremarkable if not for  the faux diamonds that traced the shoulder strap and followed the cutout  beneath her left breast, drawing the eye to where the creamy skin of  her rib cage and waist was exposed.

He didn't want to just touch that bare skin, he wanted to feel the soft  heat of it against his open mouth, taste it, feel her squirm under  butterfly kisses and arch as he sucked.

"No?" Her hand went to her middle. "I have a red gown-"

"No. I mean yes. You have completely emptied my brain, woman." He ate up  her slender arms, her upper chest, the flex in her throat as she  swallowed. Her hair was gathered with a line of sparkling diamonds,  exposing a blue stone dangling from her earlobe. "You look fantastic."

"Ramon-" Her shy face twisted into a drawn, anxious expression.

He hurried forward, like he could save something falling from a cart.

"That isn't flattery. I'm not being polite. You have never escaped my  notice, Isidora. I wanted to ignore you. I tried. But even when you were  just a chatty, flat-chested sprite of a thing, I couldn't overlook  you."         

     



 

He stopped her hands from wringing by taking them in his own.

"If I hurt you-" He swore. "I know I've hurt you." He circled his thumb  over the tip of her pointed knuckle, aware of the way her fingers  fluttered against his loose grip, like a nervous bird's wings. "I'm  sorry."

It surprised him how hard it was to say the words. A lot of remorse came  with the admission, leaving a tightness in his chest that caused a  scrape in his voice.

"Sometimes yours was the only laugh we heard in our house all week. It  bothers me that I might have cut that off. I don't think I've heard you  laugh since..."

Hell, probably since before her mother's lounge five years ago.

He closed his eyes in regret and brought her bent fingers to his lips, pressing his apology into them.

Her breath caught. The cool stone in her ring grazed near the corner of  his mouth and the backs of his thumbs touched the prickle on his own  chin. He grimaced, releasing her to rub at his stubbled jaw. "I should  shave before I forget."