‘I give respect where it’s due,’ Grace said with a sniff that warned him he fell way below her standards. For a second Javier’s anger threatened to overwhelm him. Over the years he had learned to control his hot temper, but Grace Beresford brought out the worst in him and he glowered at her. She was five-feet-nothing of stubborn determination, but beneath her bravado he sensed wariness and real fear.
Did she think he would hurt her? The thought was not a pleasant one and Javier’s mouth tightened. He had never laid a finger in anger on a woman in his life. As a boy he’d seen grown men use their fists on their women and he had abhorred their violence. Grace might irritate the hell out of him, but he would never cause her physical harm.
Abruptly he swung away from her, wondering why the faint shimmer of tears in her navy blue eyes made his gut clench. ‘Angus’s case will be dropped as soon as it is humanly possible, certainly before our wedding. We have a deal,’ he reminded her grimly. ‘And it is in both our interests to stick to it.’
‘Thank you.’ The huskiness of the simple statement brought his head round and he caught the flash of vulnerability on her face. She suddenly seemed young and painfully fragile. An illusion, surely, he thought with a grimace. She possessed a tongue that could flay flesh from bone. But the droop of her shoulders, the way she ran a hand over her face, tugged at his heart and once again he felt a begrudging sense of admiration.
She was, he conceded ruefully, one hell of a woman, and quite unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Their marriage promised fireworks, and he couldn’t deny a sense of anticipation at the thought of bedding his little English shrew. There had to be some compensations for being trapped in the holy state of matrimony for a whole year, he brooded sardonically. Grace Beresford, with her slender fine-boned figure and mass of silky brown hair, would provide an interesting diversion from the glamorous and sophisticated blondes who usually shared his bed.
‘I’ll show you to your room,’ he said abruptly, his keen gaze noting the expression of relief on her face. Had she been worried that he would insist on trying the goods before he bought? If he was honest, the thought had crossed his mind. He seemed to have been in a state of arousal since she’d fallen into his arms at the castle and he was tempted to explore the sexual chemistry that smouldered between them.
He would enjoy purging his frustrations by sating himself within her, he acknowledged as he focused his gaze on the rapid rise and fall of her small breasts. And, despite her look of maidenly outrage, Grace would enjoy it too. He knew without conceit that he was a skilled lover who would ensure her sexual satisfaction, but now was not the time, he conceded. The banquet at which he intended to announce their engagement was in less than two hours.
Business before pleasure—his golden rule, he reminded himself with a cynical smile. It was irritating to think that Angus Beresford would not suffer any kind of penalty for his betrayal of trust, but a million pounds seemed a fair price to pay for a wife. Three weeks from now he would have his ring on Grace’s finger, and more importantly claim his place as head of El Banco de Herrera. Time then to indulge this unexpected passion for the pale-faced girl whose elusive smile promised sensual heaven.
Grace followed Javier along a corridor and into a spacious, elegantly furnished bedroom. ‘The bathroom’s over there,’ he told her, indicating a door at the far end of the room. ‘I suggest you make use of it and prepare for tonight. The occasion demands a strict dress code, and in future we will need to order you some designer eveningwear tailored to your height.’ His amber eyes skimmed fleetingly over her lack of inches, and Grace had the distinct impression that if he could have done so he would have put her on the rack and elongated her frame until she was a suitable height for a duquesa. ‘Until then, you’ll have to make do with one of the dresses we bought today. Possibly the blue silk,’ he instructed arrogantly.
‘I’m not a complete peasant! I do know how to dress, you know,’ Grace snapped, incensed by his haughty manner.
His cool smile did nothing to appease her. ‘Good, I’ll see you in an hour.’ He strolled towards the door and paused. ‘Obviously we will eat at the banquet, but not until at least nine o’clock. It’s my housekeeper Pilar’s day off today, but I can get you something if you’re hungry.’
The offer was unexpected, a small kindness from a man who Grace had decided was carved from granite. ‘I don’t feel like eating at the moment,’ she replied huskily, feeling her stomach rebel at the mere thought of food. ‘But…thank you.’