November Harlequin Presents 2(95)

Grace forced air into her lungs and tore her eyes from him, her fingers shaking slightly as she pleated the bed covers. It was impossible to control her quivering awareness of him when he said things like that. ‘Didn’t you listen to a thing I said last night?’ she snapped. ‘I won’t have sex with a man I don’t love.’

He gave a low chuckle and moved towards the door. ‘I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me, then, won’t I?’

He couldn’t, of course, she reassured herself as her heart lurched in her chest. It was impossible. ‘I thought you don’t believe in love.’

‘I don’t—but I do believe in lust. To be honest, I don’t care what you call this chemistry between us, but we both know how fiercely it burns. I shall enjoy wearing down your resistance,’ he told her with his usual arrogance. ‘But right now it’s time you got up. Consuela will be here in a minute with your breakfast, and then we’ve got a plane to catch.’

‘Why…where are we going?’

‘I’ve arranged for us to spend a week in the Seychelles.’ He opened the door and was about to step through it when Grace spoke.

‘Do you mean you have business there?’ she asked, her confusion evident in her sapphire blue gaze.

‘No, it’s purely a pleasure trip,’ he replied, a wicked gleam in his eyes. But before Grace could question him further Consuela arrived with her breakfast and he disappeared.

‘You must be so excited,’ the young maid said, smiling broadly as she set the tray on Grace’s lap. ‘A honeymoon in the Seychelles—it’s so romantic. El Duque, he has a stern face but a warm heart, I think,’ she continued cheerfully, unaware that Grace was struggling to express her opinion of her new husband.

‘It’s a pity that your roses will die before you return,’ Consuela went on as she collected up the few petals that had already fallen onto the dresser. ‘Señor Herrera was determined to pick them for you from the gardens of the castillo, but the thorns scratched his hands until they bled.’ She smiled at Grace. ‘Is there anything else you need, Señora?’

Just a key to the Duque de Herrera’s mind, Grace thought silently. She shook her head and stared down at her breakfast, suddenly finding that her appetite had deserted her. Who was he, this man she had married? She had believed him to be cold-hearted and ruthless, but he had taken great trouble to pick her favourite flowers for her wedding bouquet, and now he was whisking her off to one of the most romantic destinations in the world for their honeymoon—when she had assumed that he would be impatient to take his place as head of El Banco de Herrera. The bank was the only reason he had married her, after all.



Five days later Grace still had no clear understanding of what made her husband tick. Since their arrival at their luxurious beachfront villa in the Seychelles, he had been faultlessly attentive and so charming that she could barely believe he was the same man who had set his dog on her when he’d caught her trespassing in the grounds of his castle.

What game was he playing? she brooded. Because a game it surely was, and it was entirely her own fault that she was slipping deeper and deeper under his spell. Although she tried to steel herself against his potent brand of masculinity, she couldn’t control her body’s traitorous reaction whenever he was near.

They spent their days swimming in the villa’s private pool, or in the clear aquamarine sea. The island boasted miles of white sandy beaches, and as they walked they talked about every subject under the sun—bar her father and the reasons for their marriage.

Javier was fiercely intelligent and possessed a razor-sharp wit. She now knew that he enjoyed a number of sports, including fencing. They discussed films and the arts, and he told her fascinating details about the many Moorish treasures housed in his castillo and said that Grace would be welcome to look through the handwritten catalogues when they returned to Granada.

But she had discovered nothing about the real Javier Herrera or the secrets he kept locked away in his heart. He never spoke of his childhood again, but she guessed that he had been lonely, even when his grandfather had taken him to live at the castle and she had a feeling that Carlos had shown him as little affection as his parents had done.

Perhaps it was for the best that his barriers remained in place, she told herself one afternoon, when for the first time they were spending a few hours apart while he went water-skiing. She didn’t want to like him. It was bad enough that he made her feel like a gauche schoolgirl whenever he smiled at her. And when he kissed her…