The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(25)

‘Is this really necessary?’ she hissed when the tempo changed to a slow ballad and he held her so close that she was aware of every muscle and sinew of his powerful thighs rubbing sensuously against her. It was almost impossible to hold herself stiffly within the circle of his arms when the sensual heat from his body was inviting her to relax and rest her head on his chest. ‘I think I managed to convince the Condesa that I’m wildly in love with you.’

‘I admit I’m impressed with your acting skills, querida. For a moment you almost had me convinced.’ His mocking taunt and the soft chuckle that fanned the sensitive flesh of her inner ear was the final straw.

‘Obviously I was lying through my back teeth. I can’t imagine any sane woman losing their heart to you. You’re utterly unlovable.’

‘My mother used to say the same thing.’ Amusement still coloured his voice, but when Grace glanced up at him she found his eyes hooded, hiding his thoughts. Thoroughly disconcerted, she stumbled, and he instantly tightened his grip around her waist so that her face was pressed against the soft silk of his shirt.

‘All mothers love their children. Why would she have said that?’ she mumbled, resisting the urge to lay her hand over his heart, which was thudding beneath her ear.

He shrugged indifferently. ‘Perhaps because it’s true.’ He looked down at her, noting her confusion and the faint flare of pity in her eyes. She was so tiny that he felt like a giant capable of crushing her in his hands. But he didn’t want to hurt her. To his surprise, he realised that he was impatient to be alone with her rather than on public display at this damned party. She was a small grey dove in a room full of peacocks, but for some reason he ached to taste her again and feel the softness of her lips beneath his own.

For the first time in his life he felt compelled to try and explain why he was devoid of normal human emotions. Usually he didn’t give a damn about anyone else’s opinion of him, but something in Grace’s gentle expression made him want to reveal a little of the man behind the mask and reveal the reasons why Javier Herrera had ruthlessly banished love from his life.

‘My mother married my father purely for his money, and possibly the prestige of becoming the next Duquesa de Herrera,’ he explained dryly. ‘Unfortunately for her, my grandfather was not as gullible as his son. He issued my father with an ultimatum—if he married my mother, he would lose all claim to the castillo, the bank and the Herrera fortune.’ Javier’s lip curled into a cynical smile. ‘Being a fool, my father chose to marry my mother, and my grandfather refused to have anything more to do with him.’

‘You mean your grandfather cut your father out of his life for ever?’ Grace queried, unable to disguise her shock. ‘Did he really never see him again?’

‘The Herreras’ do not go back on their word,’ Javier told her harshly. ‘Carlos knew that Fernando’s brain was already addled by drugs, frequently obtained by my mother. He disinherited him and banished him from El Castillo de Leon.’

On the periphery of her mind Grace was aware of the music, and her feet moved automatically in time with the beat as Javier steered her around the dance floor. But she was reeling from his stark revelations about his family. Carlos Herrera must have been a cruel and heartless man to have turned his back on his own son. Was it any surprise that his grandson had inherited the same attributes? ‘But what about you—I assumed you had spent your childhood at the castillo.’

‘Born into unimaginable wealth, you mean?’ Javier taunted her, forcing her to recall her bitter accusations when she had visited him at El Castillo de Leon. His eyes narrowed when she blushed. ‘I spent the first years of my life as a travelling peasant—a gypsy child as wild as the dogs who belonged to the circus troupe my mother worked for. When she wasn’t earning a living lying on her back.’

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes no longer gleaming gold but cold and emotionless. ‘Once she realised that my grandfather would never accept her, she turned against my father and the son that she had conceived by accident. I was a nuisance child, unlovable and unloved, and when she hooked up with a wealthy lover she abandoned me to the care of my pitiful, half-crazed father.’

‘What happed to him?’ Grace whispered.

‘He died of an overdose a few months after my mother left him. Poor fool that he was, he still loved her, despite everything she’d done to him. I learned early on that love is a cruel and destructive emotion, Grace, and even as a child I vowed it would have no place in my life. My grandfather eventually learned of my father’s death. Until then he’d had no idea of my existence, but he immediately brought me to the castillo. I discovered my heritage, and trust me, querida, I will stop at nothing to retain my birthright.’