The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(23)

He used his tongue with skilful precision to explore the contours of her mouth and she gave a low murmur when he probed between her lips in an intimate caress that was blatantly erotic. He slid his hand beneath her hair to cup her neck and haul her even closer. Grace could feel the erratic thud of his heart echoing in time with her own and, utterly captivated by the haze of sensual energy, she curled her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his silky black hair.

She had never felt like this before, not even when Richard, who she had believed was the love of her life, had kissed her. Nothing had prepared her for the white-hot flame of desire that threatened to overwhelm her, and when she felt Javier cup her breast in his hand she moaned softly and strained against him, wanting more.

‘That should do it. I want you to look ravished, but not as though you’ve just stumbled from my bed and can’t wait to return there.’

The coolly sardonic comment doused her passion as effectively as a bucket of cold water thrown over her head. Scarlet-cheeked, Grace snatched her hands from his shoulders and tried to avoid his mocking gaze. ‘You bastard,’ she whispered shakily.

‘I don’t think the press can be in any doubt of our passion for each other, do you, querida? You look suitably smitten with your adoring fiancé—all you have to do now is keep up the pretence for the rest of the evening.’ From his amused tone it was obvious that Javier was aware there had been no pretence, on her part at least. She’d practically eaten him alive, Grace thought miserably, feeling sick with mortification. How could she have responded to him so wantonly when she knew how much he despised her?

The chauffeur opened the door and Javier gripped her wrist, as if he knew that she wanted to slink into the corner of the car and stay there. ‘Smile, querida, before the photographers become suspicious and I have to kiss you again,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘In tomorrow’s papers I want the world to see that our marriage is a love match made in heaven.’

Quivering with resentment, Grace pinned a smile to her face and was almost blinded by the array of flash bulbs from the paparazzi assembled on the pavement. ‘We both know that our union   was devised in the fires of hell,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. ‘I doubt I’ll fool anyone into believing that I’m in love with you.’

His hand settled on her waist and seemed to burn through her dress, branding her flesh. ‘On the contrary, I thought you were very convincing,’ he drawled as he guided her firmly up the steps and into the hotel foyer. ‘But if you insist we can always put in more practice later tonight. Now, here’s our host. Remember what’s at stake here, Grace,’ he warned silkily. ‘Your father’s freedom depends on you giving a performance worthy of a Hollywood starlet.’




The banquet was a prestigious affair held in honour of members of Spain’s top business establishments. Grace felt overawed by the splendour of the ornate banqueting hall and wished she had more time to admire the stunning artwork adorning the walls and the exquisite chandeliers overhead.

Instead she had to suffer the ordeal of the formal dinner that seemed to last for hours. Worse was to come when, at the end of the meal, Javier stood and announced their engagement. In front of a sea of faces, she was forced to get to her feet and accept the congratulations of the other guests. A toast was called in honour of the happy couple and, to her horror, Javier then swept her into his arms and kissed her, much to the delight of their fascinated onlookers.

Her humiliation was complete, she acknowledged bitterly when he finally released her and she sank low into her chair. Even when she’d felt the eyes of several hundred strangers on her, she had been unable to resist the sweet seduction of his lips. For a few mindless seconds she’d felt as though they were the only two people in the room, and when he’d lifted his head her lashes had swept down too late to disguise the hunger in her eyes.

What was happening to her? Grace wondered desperately as she watched Javier move with lithe grace across the dance floor. With dinner over, the party had moved into the ballroom, where it was instantly apparent that every woman in the room had their eyes on one man. It was hardly surprising, she conceded. In a room full of sophisticated males, Javier stood head and shoulders above the rest.

It had nothing to do with wealth or status, it was the man himself—powerful, dominant and devastatingly sexy—who captured the imagination of every female present. His façade of urbane charm could not fully disguise his raw masculinity. There was a wildness about him, and wasn’t it every woman’s secret fantasy to tame the untameable?