November Harlequin Presents 2(91)

Javier did not deny her statement, but his smile faded. ‘Lucita is in love with a childish illusion, but she would soon discover that I am not her Prince Charming. She would demand more than I’m willing to give to any woman.’

He meant love, Grace realised, wondering why she suddenly felt so empty inside. Unlike Lucita, she was under no illusions about her relationship with the Duque de Herrera. Their marriage was a contract from which they both gained the thing they most wanted. For her it was her father’s freedom, and for Javier it was control of the Herrera bank. Stupid, then, to wish that he would smile at her with the warmth he had shown Lucita. They were business partners, nothing more, and she was determined to make him understand that her duties ended outside the bedroom door.

‘Don’t you ever get lonely in your ivory tower?’ she said thickly. ‘Surely everyone needs love in some form—even you.’

He stared at her speculatively for a few moments. ‘Why cloud issues with nonsensical emotion? In my experience, love is rarely given freely and without conditions attached. Far from being uplifting, it weakens and destroys, and I have no need of it.’ His eyes trailed over her ivory silk wedding dress and his mouth curled into a cynical smile. ‘Perhaps you’ve been seduced by the romance of the situation, querida, but don’t look for things that can never exist. The only emotion between us is lust, pure and simple—the sexual alchemy that turns your eyes to the colour of the night sky and makes you tremble with desire when I kiss you.’

‘You really think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?’ Grace snapped, clinging to her anger to mask her body’s traitorous reaction to his words. The searing pleasure of his mouth on hers did make her tremble, but the fact that he was aware of the effect he had on her was so humiliating. If he could reduce her to a quivering mass of longing here in front of four hundred guests, what chance did she have of resisting him when they were alone?

The way he was looking at her now, as if he was mentally stripping her, sent a tingle of anticipation through her body. Lust, pure and simple, she reassured herself, but she refused to give in to temptation. For the sake of her pride and self-respect she couldn’t afford to.

‘I need some air,’ she muttered, jumping to her feet. ‘I think your cousin wants to talk to you,’ she added frantically when Javier made to follow her. ‘You’d better go and see what he wants.’

Grace squeezed through the throng of wedding guests, out of the banqueting hall and fled up the stairs, the heavy folds of her dress hampering her steps. She flew along the landing to her room and stopped abruptly as her eyes fell on the stripped bed. With a low cry she crossed the room and flung open the wardrobe to find that it was empty.

A slight movement from the doorway made her swing round. ‘Consuela, where are my things?’ she asked the maid urgently.

‘In the master bedroom,’ the Spanish girl answered with a smile. ‘El Duque asked me to move them for you.’

Fighting the sick feeling in her stomach, Grace raced along the corridor and threw open the door to Javier’s room. The magnificent four-poster bed dominated the room, the purple and gold drapes drawn up with silk ties and the sheets turned back invitingly. She’d rather jump into a pit of vipers, Grace thought when her gaze alighted on her nightdress carefully laid out on the counterpane.

During the past few weeks she’d received countless deliveries of clothes, shoes and all manner of other accessories that Javier had obviously deemed necessary for her role as his duquesa. The overtly sexy negligées she’d watched Consuela unpack had caused her to blush furiously, much to the maid’s delight. Presumably Consuela had selected the pink silk number—with its delicate lace bodice that was so sheer it was practically transparent—with seduction in mind. But the one thought dominating Grace’s mind was escape.

‘Shall I help you remove your tiara?’ Consuela asked. ‘It’s so beautiful, but it must be very heavy.’

‘And priceless,’ Grace agreed ruefully. ‘I was so afraid of dropping it that I jammed it on as tight as possible.’ She tried to disguise her impatience while Consuela lifted the tiara from her head and removed the pins from her chignon so that her hair tumbled down her back in a sheet of pale brown silk.

‘Torres says that all the Herrera brides have worn this tiara,’ the maid explained. ‘It is said to bring them happiness and…’ She broke off with a coy giggle. ‘Many babies.’

‘Really?’ Grace said dryly. ‘Well, I wouldn’t get your hopes up on either score.’ She sighed and wished Consuela would go. She liked the young maid very much, but Javier wasn’t going to spend all night chatting with his guests and she was determined to find one of her old nightshirts and return to her own room before he came upstairs to demand his conjugal rights.