The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(24)

Not that it was one of her fantasies, Grace though irritably. She didn’t have fantasies, or at least she hadn’t until now. Even during her engagement to Richard he had never aroused in her the fever pitch of wild emotions that Javier evoked. She’d always assumed that she possessed a low sex drive, and now was not a good time to discover that her libido was alive and kicking.

‘You appear to have been deserted by your fiancé. Is that the reason you look so sad, Miss Beresford?’

Grace dragged her eyes from the dance floor and glanced at the woman who had sat down at her table. The Condesa Mercedes de Reyes was the wife of one of Madrid’s most influential businessmen. Frighteningly sophisticated and fluent in several languages including English, she was, Grace guessed, a consummate gossip. ‘I’m not sad, señora, I was just…thinking,’ she murmured politely.

The Condesa glanced across the ballroom to where Javier was still entwined with a stunning blonde, whose scarlet dress clung to her abundant curves like a second skin. The music had stopped but neither seemed aware of the fact. ‘I’m curious to know your thoughts, my dear,’ she said softly.

Grace could not prevent her eyes from straying back to the dance floor. Javier’s partner was the wife of one of his business associates, and it was perfectly reasonable for him to dance with her. There was no reason for this ridiculous feeling of pique, she reminded herself impatiently. Their engagement was a sham and she couldn’t care less who he danced with. ‘I was admiring Javier’s dancing skill,’ she said, hastily averting her gaze from the Condesa’s knowing glance.

‘Yes, the Duque de Herrera is a prime specimen of masculinity, isn’t he? He’s quite a catch. Tell me, my dear…’ The Condesa leaned forwards, her black eyes gleaming speculatively. ‘How did you meet?’

Oh hell! ‘We met during one of Javier’s business trips to England. He’s a…friend of my father’s.’

‘But you can’t have known each other long—this is the first occasion that you have been seen publicly together.’

Colour stained Grace’s cheeks and she licked her lips nervously as she tried to remember the story Javier had fabricated about their phoney romance. He was the one who had insisted that the real reason for their marriage should remain a secret, damn it. He should be here, helping her to fend off the Condesa instead of pawing the lady in red on the dance floor.

‘We’ve known each other for a few months,’ she explained, hoping that the lie sounded convincing. ‘But at first we chose to keep our relationship out of the spotlight. Falling in love is a very private matter, don’t you think?’

‘So it is a love match, then?’ The Condesa’s finely plucked eyebrows arched in evident surprise. ‘I did not expect it of Javier. It seems you have succeeded where many others have failed, Miss Beresford—and captured the heart of the lion. Do you love him?’

Grace caught the faint note of disbelief in the Condesa’s voice. It was clear that the older woman was not wholly convinced that the Duque de Herrera would choose such a drab mouse for his bride. Indignation stirred in Grace’s breast and she lifted her chin. Her relationship with Javier might be nothing more than a business proposition, but there was no reason for the world to know. ‘I love Javier with all my heart,’ she said firmly. ‘He is the other half of my soul, and I can’t wait for the day that I will promise to spend the rest of my life with him.’

‘Ah, Grace, you take my breath away, cara mia.’ A familiar sexy drawl sounded in Grace’s ear and she gasped and swung round, her startled gaze clashing with a pair of flashing amber eyes. ‘I too am impatient for the day that I will make you my wife.’ The secretive gleam in Javier’s eyes reminded Grace of just why he was so impatient. He wanted to claim his place as head of the Herrera bank. She was simply a means to an end, and possibly an amusing diversion from his usual fare of glamorous mistresses. Before long she was going to have to set down some ground rules for their marriage, she decided grimly.

‘Dance with me, querida?’

Before she could protest, he drew her into his arms and swept her onto the dance floor where he pulled her against the hard length of his body. It was all part of the game, Grace told herself sternly when she felt each of her nerve endings spring into vibrant life. The way he was holding her as if she was infinitely precious to him was his way of proving to the other guests that they were in love and couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Only she knew that his hand was clamped to her hip like a vice, preventing her escape.