November Harlequin Presents 2(88)

Not that she’d smiled at him, Javier acknowledged grimly. With his staff she was warm and friendly, and her quiet manner had won their instant approval. But with him she was cool and aloof, and her wariness of him had seemed to increase daily. Dinner each evening had become an ordeal, although he would not admit to anyone that he longed to break down her reserve and receive one of her shy smiles that she gave so willingly to every other damn soul at the castle.

‘Sir, is there anything I can get you?’

Torres was far too well trained to reveal impatience, but Javier knew he was concerned that the guests waiting in the chapel would be growing restive. What would the butler think if he revealed that Grace was only marrying him because he had forced her into it? he brooded. Hell, even now, with less than an hour to go before the ceremony, he wasn’t absolutely certain that she would go through with it.

He was startled by the realisation that he hadn’t even thought about the Herrera bank for days. Surely the only reason he cared about this marriage was as a means to achieving his birthright? But the idea that Grace might not join him in the chapel made his stomach clench with sick apprehension—just like years ago when Pepe, one of his mother’s lovers, had caught him stealing a few pesetas to buy food, and had decided to teach him a lesson with his belt. He tasted bile in his mouth and swallowed it as common sense returned and he recalled the way she had clung to her father at the end of their brief visit to Eastbourne.

Her huge blue eyes had shimmered with tears, and her voice shook when she told Angus Beresford how much she loved him. Her loyalty was undeniable; she would do anything for him, Javier conceded heavily. If the only way she could save her father from a prison sentence was to marry a man she clearly loathed, then she would do it.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes, all right, I’m coming.’

He and Grace had made a deal, and he’d already honoured his side of it, he reminded himself as he strode across the room and followed Torres down the winding staircase leading from the west tower. There was no point in suffering an uncharacteristic attack of conscience now. Indeed, it was thanks to him that her crooked, cheating father wasn’t languishing in a prison cell awaiting trial for fraud.

But on the trip to Eastbourne Angus had been nothing like he’d expected, and had certainly borne no resemblance to the quietly spoken, dignified professional that he had appointed to manage the British subsidiary of El Banco de Herrera three years ago. With his gaunt face and trembling hands, Grace’s father had been a pitiful sight, and Javier had been genuinely shocked by his obvious mental fragility.

What had happened to trigger Angus’s decision to embezzle from his employers? There were no obvious signs that he had benefited from the millions he had stolen. Far from living a life of luxury, he had seemed a broken man, forced to turn to his sister to provide him with a room in her guest house.

So what the hell had he done with three million pounds? Had he spent it all on Grace? Before she had crashed into his life, Javier had believed Angus Beresford’s daughter to be a spoilt, conniving gold digger, happy to live off the proceeds of her father’s criminal activities. But over the past few weeks he’d been forced to accept that Grace was nothing like he had imagined.

As he crossed the vast entrance hall, he glanced up at the portrait of the previous duque. From the moment he had arrived at the castle as a young boy, Carlos Herrera had indoctrinated him with the belief that power was everything and failure inconceivable. Emotions such as love were for the weak, Carlos had insisted. El Leon de Herrera was strong and always walked alone.

There was no place in his heart for Grace Beresford, Javier conceded heavily, but he could not banish her from his mind. Compared to his many mistresses, she was an unremarkable slip of a girl, with her delicate features and soft brown hair. Yet she dominated his thoughts and haunted his dreams. Her gentle beauty made him ache in a way no other woman had ever done. The few kisses he’d snatched when they had been on public display had fanned the flames of his desire to fever pitch.

Sexual chemistry was a potent force, but physical attraction was the only thing he felt for her, he reminded himself fiercely. He wanted her, and tonight, on their wedding night, he would have her.

She owed him, he reassured himself as he crossed the courtyard and headed towards the chapel. He didn’t understand why her father had embezzled the money, but his actions had led Carlos Herrera to doubt Javier’s judgement and add the marriage clause to his will. It was only fair that Grace now honoured her side of their bargain by becoming his wife and ensuring his place as head of El Banco de Herrera.