‘You look…exquisite,’ he said roughly after long moments when his eyes trailed over her in frank appraisal, taking in every dip and curve of her slender figure in her floor-length velvet ball-gown.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her eyes locked with his in the mirror, and she felt a shiver of feminine pleasure at the flare of hunger in his gaze. Her dress was a dark red-wine colour with a full skirt, tight sleeves and fitted low-cut bodice that was cleverly designed to make the most of her small breasts, pushing them up so that they spilled provocatively above the plush velvet. It was a sensuous dress, made for seduction, and she knew Javier was imagining untying the laces that secured the bodice so that he could cradle her breasts in his hands.
‘How long do you expect the party to go on for?’ she queried huskily, and watched as his mouth curved into a devastating smile.
‘Too long,’ he growled. She had the feeling that he was waging an inner battle with himself, but suddenly his tension broke and to her surprise he slid his arms around her and dipped his head to press hot, desperate kisses along her collarbone. ‘I want you now, as I’m sure you are aware,’ he added desperately as the throbbing length of his erection pushed tantalisingly against her bottom.
‘I wonder what’s going on inside your head, behind that serene smile?’ he muttered. ‘What would you do, my little grey dove, if I threw you down onto the bed, pushed up your skirt and took you, hard and fast, the way I know you like it?’
‘I’d say wait until later—I don’t want you to ruin my dress.’ She gave him an impish smile and watched as some indefinable emotion briefly flared in his eyes before his lashes fell, concealing his thoughts.
‘I suppose you’re right. And, speaking of your dress, I have something for you.’ He extracted a slim leather case from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
‘What is it?’ Grace asked.
‘Open it and see.’ He smiled when her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and he heard her gasp as she stared down at the ruby-and-diamond necklace suspended on a long gold chain.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But you can’t give me this. It must be worth a fortune.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my wife—I can give you anything I like.’ He lifted the stunning pendant from its box and placed it around her neck so that the ruby settled between her breasts. ‘It matches your dress perfectly,’ he said with a note of satisfaction.
‘But Javier…’ Grace broke off and stared at the precious jewel that lay cold and heavy on her skin. ‘I can’t keep it. I’ll have it on loan and return it to you when I go.’
‘When you go where?’ he queried idly. He flicked a glance at his watch and strolled towards the door, indicating that it was time they went downstairs to greet their guests.
‘When I go home—a-after our divorce,’ Grace stammered, swallowing the sudden tears that clogged her throat at the mere thought of leaving him.
Javier stiffened, his face an inscrutable mask of chiselled perfection that left no clue to his thoughts. ‘We’ll worry about it then,’ he said sharply. ‘I bought it because I thought you’d like it, but you’ll wear it even if you don’t. You are the Duquesa de Herrera, and in front of my guests I expect you to look and act the part.’
It hadn’t been an auspicious start to the evening, Grace acknowledged miserably some hours later, when the five-course dinner was finally over and coffee and liqueurs were being served in the salon. As far as the guests were concerned, Javier appeared to be a devoted husband—only she knew that his tender expression disguised the coldness in his eyes when he smiled at her. His role as host meant that he had a perfect excuse to talk to everyone bar her, and he had spent much of the meal flirting with the vivacious blonde seated on one side of him and Lucita Vasquez on the other.
Not that she cared, Grace told herself fiercely. Throughout dinner the queasiness that had plagued her for the past few days had returned, and her brow pleated into a frown at the untimely reminder of her secret worry. Her period was late—only by a few days, but late enough for her to panic.
She couldn’t be pregnant—it was impossible, she tried to reassure herself, feeling her stomach rebel as the smell of strong coffee assailed her senses. Javier had used protection every time he’d made love to her—well, almost every time. There had been a few occasions when he hadn’t had a condom to hand, like the time he’d laid her down on the grass and made love to her beneath the moonlight—or more recently when he had shared her shower and insisted on soaping every inch of her body until desire had overwhelmed them and he had taken her with a wild, primitive passion that had shocked and enthralled her.