The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride(41)

With a groan of despair, she wriggled out of her sundress and left it on the sand before running down to the sea. The water was cool on her heated skin and she swam until her arms ached, trying to relieve the tension that gripped her muscles. She was not suffering from sexual frustration, she told herself firmly. But her body remained unconvinced. Until she’d met Javier, she had always assumed that she was one of those people who had a low sex drive—it was galling to discover that just one look from his slumberous amber eyes was enough to set her senses aflame.

‘You have no right to continually…manhandle me,’ she’d told him crossly on their first day at the villa when he had tugged her onto his lap and kissed her with a sensual expertise that had left her breathless. ‘You said yourself—our marriage is a business contract, and nowhere in the small print does it state that I have to share your bed.’

‘But it’s so much more fun to break the rules, don’t you think, querida?’ he had replied with one of his devastating smiles that had made her long to ignore common sense and follow the dictates of her body. Since then he had kissed her wherever and whenever he liked, which seemed to be most of the time, Grace thought ruefully. And she seemed incapable of resisting him when he claimed her mouth with a hungry passion he made no effort to disguise.

She flipped over onto her back and floated on the swell, lulled by the beauty of her surroundings. Eventually she splashed through the shallows and strolled along the beach away from the collection of private villas, stopping here and there to pick up a shell. Caught up in her thoughts, she lost all concept of time, and it was only when a breeze sprang up and chilled her skin that she looked around and realised that dusk was falling.




‘Grace!’ Javier stared along the stretch of empty beach and called her name again even though he knew she wouldn’t answer. Where was she? Her dress and sun hat were still in a neat pile on the sand, and one of the villa’s staff had confirmed that he had seen Señora Herrera walk into the sea several hours ago.

He had searched everywhere and now, as dusk fell, he was gripped with fear. She could not have drowned, he told himself sternly as he began to stride along the beach once more, re-tracing the path he’d already taken twice before. The tides around the island were not reported to be particularly dangerous, and if she’d got into trouble while swimming someone would have seen her and gone to help, surely?

But Grace was so small and so fiercely independent. Even if she’d been struggling in the water, she probably wouldn’t have made a fuss. It was possible she had simply sunk without trace. He quickened his pace and called her name again, over and over, until he was hoarse.

He should never have left her alone, he told himself furiously. In fact he’d only been gone for a couple of hours. The water-sports facilities were excellent, but without Grace he’d been bored—and although it irritated him to admit it he’d been impatient to get back to her. For some inexplicable reason she’d got under his skin. Beneath her shy reserve she was bright and funny, and he could talk to her for hours rather than five minutes, which was his usual attention span with women.

Their sexual awareness of each other smouldered beneath the surface and at times, when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, it threatened to burst into flame. But he was rather enjoying the slow build-up of passion. Like a fine wine, it was better sipped slowly and each mouthful savoured. The anticipation of making love to Grace was a tantalising prelude made all the richer because, however much she tried to deny it, she wanted him too.

But now she had disappeared, and so far the team of island workers he’d asked for help had found no trace of her. He controlled his panic with the iron willpower that was one of his strongest traits, and strained his eyes along the shadowed beach. In the distance he could make out a small figure strolling in his direction—strolling, he noted furiously, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. His heart thundered in his chest and he began to run.

‘Where the hell have you been? Most of the islanders are searching for you!’ he said savagely when he reached Grace and stared down at her upturned face. Dios, she was so lovely. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her safe—and then shake her until her teeth rattled!

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time,’ she murmured, plainly bemused by his simmering fury. ‘Why all the fuss?’ Her innocent query blew the lid on Javier’s temper, and with an oath he scooped her up into his arms and began to march along the beach.

‘You’ve been gone for over four hours. You weren’t wearing a hat, even though you left the villa at the hottest part of the day, and I don’t suppose you took sunscreen with you. You deserve to have sunstroke at the very least,’ he told her grimly, his tone warning her that he deemed hanging a far more suitable punishment.