‘I know Angus has done wrong, and believe me so does he. If you could only see him you’d realise that he’s destroyed by guilt. But he took the money because of love, and because he could see no other way.’ Her voice trembled with emotion as she remembered the last traumatic weeks of her mother’s life, and her father’s desolation that ultimately he had been unable to save his beloved Susan.
Javier’s bored expression conveyed his lack of interest and Grace gave up. ‘You don’t have any idea about real life, do you? You were born into unimaginable wealth, and you sit here in your castle and lord it over everyone else. Do you know something? I feel sorry for you,’ she told him bitterly. ‘I don’t believe you’ve ever experienced love, or that anyone has ever loved you.’
‘You could be right.’ Javier’s brows had drawn together in a frown, but now he opened the door and propelled her into the corridor. His wide smile revealed a flash of white teeth and his curious amber eyes glowed with genuine humour. ‘But, let me assure you, it’s a state of affairs that suits me perfectly. Adios, Miss Beresford.’
‘Wait!’ The door was already closing and Grace quickly jammed her foot in the gap, aware of how easy it would be for him to crush her bones against the frame. ‘Do you want me to beg? Is that it?’ she asked desperately. ‘Because I’ll do whatever it takes to save my father.’
As she spoke she dropped to her knees, her pride cast aside. ‘I won’t allow Dad to go to prison. There has to be some way that I can be of use to you—I’ll willingly cook, clean…’ she glanced along the corridor at the seemingly miles of stone floor ‘…scrub your floors. I’m not afraid of hard work, and I’ll do anything…as long as it’s moral.’ She bit down hard on her lip until she tasted blood and stared at him, willing him to give her a chance.
Javier’s jaw tightened and his golden eyes burned into her skin as he allowed his gaze to travel in a leisurely fashion over her yellow sundress, noting its narrow shoulder straps and pretty lace-edged bodice that revealed the delicate curve of her breasts.
It was like being propositioned by a nun, he mused sardonically. Her air of innocence was all the more intriguing because common sense told him it couldn’t be real. From his report on her he knew she’d had her share of relationships, notably with a successful insurance broker called Richard Quentin who was several years older than her and who had a reputation around London as a ladies’ man.
According to the report, she’d been briefly engaged to Quentin. It was impossible to believe that they hadn’t been lovers, so why bother with the pretence of virginal shyness? And why the hell didn’t he just get rid of her, instead of fantasising about exploring her soft, full lips with his own?
‘Why have you come to me?’ he queried harshly. ‘Why not offer your…’ he paused and purposefully allowed his eyes to linger on her breasts ‘…services to some other wealthy man?’
‘I don’t know any,’ Grace replied bluntly. ‘And with Littlecote about to be sold, I have nothing to offer as collateral against a bank loan. I’m out of options. Señor Herrera, I’m serious about repaying the money Angus took—every penny of it,’ she added fiercely when he looked unimpressed. ‘I’m not sure how yet, but somehow I will clear my father’s debts. All I’m asking is that you give me time, and your agreement to settle out of court.’
For some reason the sight of her kneeling before him filled Javier with impatience and, muttering an oath, he swung away from her. Common sense dictated that she was a selfish bitch who had coerced her father into abusing his position at the bank to fund her extravagant lifestyle. But she was so lovely. Dios, he could barely think straight when she looked at him with those huge, sapphire blue eyes. And she had spirit, he granted—she must love her father very much to have come here to plead his case. She deserved neither his respect nor sympathy, but to his annoyance he felt a begrudging sense of both.
An idea had filtered into his mind and refused to be ignored. He had no need of a cook or a cleaner, but he suddenly knew of a way that he could make use of her—and it was moral, he acknowledged, his mouth curving into a cynical smile as he remembered the stipulation she’d made.
‘Stand up, Miss Beresford,’ he said coolly, aware of a curious sensation in his chest as he watched her get shakily to her feet. ‘You say that you are prepared to work for me in return for me dropping legal proceedings against your father?’