His Unknown Heir(40)

At last she turned her head to him, and the glisten of tears clinging to her lashes evoked a curious pain in his gut. ‘Lauren…?’

‘You win,’ she said, in a voice as brittle as glass. ‘I can’t take Matty away from here—from his family. But I can’t live without him.’ She swallowed and then went on quickly, before her courage deserted her, ‘And so, for him, I’ll marry you.’

She made it sound as though she was offering herself as a human sacrifice, Ramon thought irritably. Dios, he was a billionaire duque, and from now on she would live a life of luxury. ‘Had you considered that marriage to me might not be the ordeal you seem to think it will?’ he asked curtly. ‘As my wife, you will want for nothing.’

‘How do you know what I want?’ Lauren said quietly. His words tore at her heart, for she would always long for the one thing he could never give her.

Muttering an imprecation, Ramon steered her into his study, strode over to his desk and took something from a drawer. ‘Now that we are formally engaged you will wear this,’ he told her, opening a velvet box to reveal a ring that drew a gasp from Lauren.

It was plainly an antique—an enormous ruby surrounded by a circle of diamonds and another circle of smaller rubies.

‘It’s a monstrosity,’ she muttered, voicing the first thought that entered her head as Ramon took her cold hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a fraction tight over her knuckle, and felt heavy and cumbersome.

‘Only you could describe a ring that was recently valued at a million pounds as a monstrosity,’ Ramon said dryly. ‘For countless generations every Velaquez bride has worn this ring, and my family will expect you to continue the tradition.’

A million pounds! ‘But suppose I lose it?’ Lauren argued as she stared at the huge ring in horror. ‘Ramon, surely there’s no need? It’s not as if we are marrying for conventional reasons. We’re not in love with each other,’ she explained sharply when his dark brows rose quizzically.

‘I doubt that love was a factor in many of my ancestors’ choices of brides,’ he replied laconically. ‘For most marriage was a business arrangement, between high-born families.’

While Lauren brooded on his words he gripped her elbow and led her back out of his study and across the hall, to the doors leading to the conservatory.

‘My mother, however, is under the illusion that ours is a love-match,’ he told her grimly, ‘and I have no intention of shattering her romantic ideals.’

‘Meaning what, exactly?’

Sherry-brown eyes clashed with stormy grey ones. ‘Meaning that in front of my family you will act the part of my love-struck fiancée.’

‘Sorry, but I’m not that good an actress,’ Lauren muttered sarcastically.

‘Perhaps this will help you get into character.’

Ramon’s dark head swooped before she realised his intention, and her startled gasp was lost beneath the hungry pressure of his mouth. She was unprepared for the thrust of his tongue between her lips, and to her shame white-hot, rampant desire swept through her as he explored her with a bold eroticism that left her weak and trembling and clinging to him for support.

She was scarlet-cheeked when Ramon finally broke the kiss, and her embarrassment intensified when she discovered that he had opened the door while he had been kissing her and they were in full view of everyone in the conservatory.

‘Well, Ramon, I hope you are about to announce your engagement and spare all our blushes,’ commented one of the young women in an amused voice.

‘I am,’ Ramon replied, triumph in his voice as he slid his arm around Lauren’s waist and drew her forward. He led her over to the older woman, who stood up from the sofa as they approached. ‘Madre, this is Lauren—the mother of my son and, I am happy to say, soon to be my wife.’

His gentle, loving tone caused Lauren’s steps to falter. It was pathetic to wish that his tender smile was genuine, she told herself angrily. He was only turning on the charm in front of his family. But she could not drag her eyes from his face, and her heart hammered beneath her ribs when he dropped a butterfly-soft kiss on her lips.

‘Lauren—welcome.’ Ramon’s mother spoke in English, and to Lauren’s surprise took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I am Marisol, and these are my daughters: Alissa, Juanita and Valentina—who you might have guessed is expecting twins.’

Marisol Velaquez was tall and elegant, her beauty in no way diminished by the fact that her hair was now pure silver rather than the jet-black of her children and grandchildren. Lauren liked her instantly, and her fear that Ramon’s mother would not approve of him marrying an English woman rather than a member of the Spanish nobility was allayed by the warmth of the older woman’s smile.