November Harlequin Presents 2(112)

‘No!’ Nausea swept through her and she put up her hands to ward him off. Despite everything she’d learned about him tonight, she still loved him—even though the realisation made her question her sanity. She couldn’t bear for him to take her in anger and turn something she found so beautiful into a primitive act of vengeance.

And what about the baby? she thought frantically. After everything Lucita had told her, she didn’t dare reveal to him that she might have conceived his child. She needed some time alone to come to terms with her pregnancy before facing up to the fear that he would want to take her baby from her when he divorced her. ‘Don’t do this, Javier,’ she pleaded as she watched the zip descend. ‘Don’t make me hate you.’

‘You think I care? Love, hate, they’re all the same to me,’ he growled savagely, but as he positioned himself above her, and moved to drag his trousers over his hips, he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes and swore long and hard.

‘Dios Grace, what are you doing to me? I have never taken a woman by force in my life.’ With hands that shook slightly, he refastened his zip and jerked to his feet, his eyes glittering with contempt as he twitched her skirt down over her naked thighs. ‘You couldn’t hate me more than I hate myself,’ he told her in a flat, emotionless voice that belied the shaft of pain in his eyes. ‘I’ve always known that I am unlovable—I was told it enough times,’ he added harshly. ‘How could I have hoped that you were different—that you saw something in me that was not cold and embittered?’

‘Javier!’ The bleakness of his expression tore at her heart and she reached out to him, her hand falling back helplessly when he stiffened and swung away from her. ‘I never meant…I don’t think you’re heartless…’ She broke off, her eyes clouding as she remembered Lucita’s taunts that he had deliberately tried to get her pregnant because he’d needed an heir.

‘Then I suggest you revise your opinion, querida,’ he told her coldly. ‘Because I am as ruthless as my forebears who lived here in El Castillo de Leon.’ He gave a hard smile. ‘Did I tell you that Carlos refused to allow my father to visit my grandmother when she was dying? Even though she begged him. Fernando was her only son, but he had gone against my grandfather’s wishes by marrying my mother and Carlos banished him from the castillo for good. From the day I arrived here as a skinny, underfed peasant boy, I learned that power is everything and love counts for nothing.’

A cold hand of fear crept around Grace’s heart. ‘And do you still believe that, Javier?’ she whispered. ‘Would you really do anything to gain complete power of the Herrera bank?’

‘You already know the answer to that,’ he replied as he walked over to the door. ‘Don’t look so shattered, querida—you knew what you were taking on when you walked into this marriage. You have six more months or so remaining as my wife, and you’d better get used to the idea, because we made a deal and I won’t let you go until you’ve completed your side of it.’



Grace eventually fell into a fitful sleep and woke to find herself alone in the vast bed. She had no idea where Javier had spent the night, and when she was hit by a wave of nausea that necessitated an urgent trip to the bathroom she was thankful that he wasn’t around to question the reason for her sickness.

She couldn’t stay at the castle, knowing that the fragile life inside her was the final instalment of the deal she had struck with him. The welfare and upbringing of her baby were not up for negotiation, and while she had breath in her body she would fight for custody of the Herrera heir. Her child would be brought up safe in the knowledge of Grace’s unconditional love—unlike its father who had been denied affection throughout his formative years.

The queasiness was passing, and she swiftly threw a few of her belongings into a bag, taking care only to pack the items she had brought with her from England rather than anything Javier had bought her. When she crept downstairs, the castle seemed unusually quiet, but as she entered the dining room she stopped dead at the sight of Lucita Vasquez.

‘Where’s Javier?’ she queried sharply, painfully aware of her sickly pallor and lank hair in contrast to the Spanish girl’s glowing beauty.

‘He stormed off somewhere with Luca—after reading me the riot act,’ Lucita said sulkily. ‘Why did you have to involve me in your stupid row?’

Grace gave a harsh laugh. ‘You involved yourself. If Javier was angry with you, you only have yourself to blame. It’s about time someone told you to grow up.’ She broke off and bit her lip when Lucita stared speculatively at her holdall.