The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(21)

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door leading from the en suite. ‘Satisfied?’ she demanded coldly, unable to repress a little quiver of awareness when his eyes slid insolently over her.

‘Not quite—come here.’

She felt like a dog called to heel, but the gleam in his golden gaze warned her to hold her tongue. Squaring her shoulders, she walked across the bedroom until she was standing in front of him and then gasped when he spun her round so that her back was to him and she could see their reflection in the long mirror. With swift, precise movements he removed the pins from her carefully arranged chignon, and when her hair uncoiled down her back he picked up her hairbrush and began to stroke it through the silky strands.

It was shockingly intimate. Heat coursed through Grace’s veins and she jerked away from him, but a sharp tap on her derrière with the back of the brush quelled her escape bid.

‘Keep still.’ The glint in his eyes was faintly mocking, as if he was aware of her Herculean effort to hold her furious words in check. She’d like to commit murder, she thought savagely, clenching her hands into small fists. And yet the glide of the brush through her hair was strangely soothing, and when he slid his free hand to the nape of her neck and gently kneaded the knot of muscles there with his long, tactile fingers she felt the tension ease from her body.

‘There—you’ll do.’ Abruptly he dropped the brush back onto the dresser and reached into his pocket. ‘Apart from one final touch.’ He flipped open the velvet box in his hand, and Grace stared in stunned silence at the blazing brilliance of the sapphire and diamond ring.

‘Is this really necessary?’ she croaked. She guessed that most women would give their eye teeth for such a fabulous piece of jewellery, but she felt faintly sick. It was more than just a ring—it was a statement of intent between two people and a symbol of their love. She was a fraud, and her forthcoming marriage was nothing more than a business proposition. What was the point in trying to dress it up?

‘Of course it’s necessary. Once I’ve announced our engagement, everyone at the banquet will be hoping for a glimpse of the ring,’ Javier told her, his voice curdling with cynicism. ‘Give me your hand,’ he demanded, reaching for her impatiently when she shoved her hands behind her back. ‘Think of it as a nest egg. When our marriage is over, you can always sell it.’

‘When our marriage is over I’ll return it to you, along with everything else you’ve given me. You may have bought my presence in your life for a year, Javier, but you will never own my soul or steal my integrity.’

‘Integrity?’ His eyebrows shot skywards but he said no more as he slid the ring onto her finger. Grace had particularly slim fingers and she was certain it wouldn’t fit, but to her surprise it sat snugly, as if it was meant to be there. It was exquisite, she thought numbly, but the weight of it seemed oppressive and she had to fight the urge to wrench it from her finger.

‘It’s beautiful—I just hope I don’t lose it,’ she murmured, lifting her hand and reluctantly admiring the way the diamonds danced in the light. Javier stood watching her in a brooding silence, and she flushed.

‘The sapphire matches the colour of your eyes,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t think you’ll lose it. I took a guess on the size of your finger, and asked the jeweller to alter the original ring by several sizes.’ He enfolded her hand in his strong grasp and stared down at her slim white fingers. ‘You are as tiny and fragile as a little bird, and I fear I could crush you with one hand.’

The velvet softness of his voice sent a quiver through her and she quickly snatched her hand back. ‘I’m stronger than I look,’ she assured him fiercely, lifting her chin to meet his gleaming gaze. ‘You’ll never crush me, Señor.’

His sudden smile took her breath away and she could not tear her gaze from the bold beauty of his face. ‘Brave words, querida! And now it’s time for us to go.’ He held out his arm, and with a sinking heart Grace slid her hand through it so that they were linked together. She had made a pact with the devil and now she had no option but to see it through.





CHAPTER FIVE




THE roads around central Madrid were teeming with traffic, causing the limousine to slow to a crawl.

‘We’re almost at the hotel,’ Javier told Grace. ‘I see that my tip-off to the media has had the desired effect—the paparazzi are out in droves.’ He glanced at her, and his black brows drew together in a frown as he studied her tense expression. ‘Dios! Smile, woman! The press will be expecting you to appear overjoyed that you’re about to become the Duquesa de Herrera, but instead you look as though you’re on your way to the gallows.’