‘We are delighted to meet you, Lauren, and so sorry that you have been ill.’ Ramon’s sister Juanita, who had first spoken, now addressed Lauren in perfect English. ‘Ramon explained that you had a high fever. It is fortunate that Mateo did not contract the virus.’ She glanced down at two of the children, who were tickling Matty, making him squeal with laughter. ‘As you can see,’ she said with a smile, ‘his cousins adore him already.’
Lauren was in no doubt that Ramon’s family had taken her son into their hearts—especially his grandmother, she thought heavily, when she noted the soft expression on Marisol Velaquez’s face. She knelt down in front of Matty, her heart aching with love for him. He immediately held out his arms and she hugged him to her, closing her eyes as she breathed in the delicious scent of her baby. He was her life, and she would do anything to be with him—even marry a man who had arrogantly stated that he did not consider love to be a prerequisite for marriage.
It took every ounce of her energy to stand up with Matty in her arms. She was sure he had grown during the past four days when she had been ill. He was certainly heavier, she thought wryly—or perhaps he only felt so because the flu had left her horribly weak.
‘Allow me to take him,’ Ramon’s mother said gently. ‘You are not strong enough yet to hold this fine big baby.’
Silly tears blurred Lauren’s eyes as she handed Matty over to his grandmother. But Marisol was right. Her arms were already aching from the effort of holding him. So much for her earlier plan to snatch him and take him from the castle, she thought miserably.
‘Come—it’s time you were back in bed,’ Ramon told her, sweeping her into his arms and ignoring her protest. ‘The sooner you are fully recovered, the sooner I can make you my wife,’ he added, with a mocking gleam in his eyes that made Lauren itch to slap him.
‘I can walk,’ she told him furiously as he strode out of the conservatory and across the hall. ‘Your family can’t see us now, and there’s no need to act the part of loving fiancé on my account. Unlike your mother, I’m under no illusions about you.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he said evenly, ‘but you’ve had the good sense to agree to marry me to keep your son, and for Mateo’s sake it will be better if we end hostilities and try to be friends.’
Lauren seethed silently while he carried her up the stairs and along various corridors until they reached her room. ‘How can you expect friendship from me when you have blackmailed me into marriage?’ she demanded bitterly when he set her on her feet. ‘You have callously used my love for Matty to get your own way.’
‘I have done what is best for our son,’ he countered inexorably. ‘Mateo needs both of us.’
Before Lauren had time to react, he spun her round and unzipped her dress.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She tried to bat his hands away but he ignored her and tugged the dress over her hips so that it slithered to the floor.
‘You look even better in that underwear than I visualised when I chose it,’ he drawled, the sudden heat in his gaze scorching her skin as he turned her back to face him and rested his eyes deliberately on her breasts.
To Lauren’s shame her nipples instantly hardened and strained against the sheer lace bra cups, and she closed her eyes to shut out his mocking smile. ‘The wedding will be very soon, querida,’ he murmured. ‘The best place for you to recuperate from your illness is in my bed.’
He only had to look at her and she was on fire for him, she thought despairingly. Her breasts felt heavy, and a tremor ran through her when he placed his hands on either side of her waist. She lifted her head blindly, thinking that he was going to kiss her, but her eyes flew open in shock when he drew back the covers and pushed her gently into bed.
‘I’m glad you share my impatience,’ he said in an amused voice, ‘but you are not nearly strong enough yet for what I have in mind.’
‘I hate you,’ Lauren muttered grittily, burning up with mortification. She jerked her head to one side when he leaned over her, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him as he swooped and captured her mouth in a punishing kiss intent on proving his mastery.
She should resist him. Her brain knew it, but unfortunately her body did not agree. Molten heat coursed through her veins, and her limbs shook with need as he lowered his body onto hers. His tongue probed the tight line of her lips until with a moan she parted them so that he could delve into her moist warmth. She did not want to want him, and bitterly resented his power over her, but like it or not she was racked with hot, urgent desire, and with a low moan she cupped his face and kissed him with a fierce passion that she could not deny.