The Society Bride
The Society Bride
Fiona Hood-Stewart
Ramon Villalba is handsome, gifted and wealthy. So why would he want a bride of convenience?Nena Carvajal is an exquisitely beautiful young heiress who needs protecting from fortune hunters. It would be no hardship for Ramon to enjoy the pleasures of an arranged marriage with her. Ramon is confident he can tame his headstrong virgin wife. But Nena had expected to marry for love…
“Nena,” he whispered. “Let me love you—let me be your husband.”
“I—I can’t…” she responded hoarsely, only too conscious of his scent, of the maleness of him, of everything about him that drew her, while she tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons she couldn’t let it happen.
“I promise not to hurt you,” he said reasonably, leaning his hands on each side of her on the balustrade, his tanned face and sensual lips only inches from hers.
She realized with a tingling shudder that left her weak, that he was about to kiss her.
Scottish author FIONA HOOD-STEWART has led a cosmopolitan life from the day she was born. Schooled in Europe and fluent in seven languages, she draws on her own experiences in the world of old money, big business and the international jet set for inspiration in creating her books. She now lives in Switzerland with her two teenage sons.
You can visit Fiona’s Web site at www.fionahood-stewart.com.
Fiona is also one of the international collection of bestselling authors writing for MIRA
Books. Her latest novel, Southern Belle, is available next month. Look out for a tempting extract at the end of this book.
Her other titles include:
The Stolen Years
“A feast for anyone who yearns for a long, rich read.”
—Romantic Times
The Journey Home
“Well told…with plot twist and powerful emotions.”
—Romantic Times
The Society Bride
Fiona Hood-Stewart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
HE’D been summoned, Ramon Villalba realised. He frowned as he sat astride his fine Passo Fino and stared across the wide, green open spaces where several thousand heads of cattle—all belonging to him—grazed, oblivious of the fact that their owner was once again about to board his company jet in Buenos Aires and head for London.
It was rare these days that his father summoned him. After all, Ramon was thirty-two, and had cut his eye-teeth a long while ago. So the matter must be extremely important and the summons immediately met.
He experienced a moment’s concern. Could it be the health of one of his parents’ that was the issue here? Surely not. His mother, with whom he had an exceptionally close relationship, would have confided in him. Still, he wasted no time in galloping back to the gracious hacienda, its ancient terracotta walls bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, and having Juanito, his manservant, pack his bags in readiness for the journey.
Twenty-four hours later he was sitting in the book-lined study of his family’s home in Eaton Square, trying to absorb the impact of what his father had just said.
‘But that’s utterly preposterous!’ Ramon exclaimed, dragging his fingers through his thick black hair and shaking his head. ‘As I recollect, Nena Carvajal is not twenty yet—a mere girl. How can you and old Don Rodrigo even contemplate marriage for her?’
‘Really, Ramon. Stop being prissy. You sound as if you’ve never heard of a marriage of convenience.’
‘Well, certainly not one like this,’ Ramon countered with feeling, letting his long legs stretch before him and crossing his ankles. His bronzed brow creased. ‘I don’t know what’s got into your heads. If Nena thinks of me as anything at all it’s probably in the light of an—’
‘Rubbish.’ His father, a well-dressed man in his late seventies, cut him short briskly. ‘I doubt if she remembers you at all—which may be for the best.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘There is a very strong reason for this arrangement.’
‘Oh? And what might that be?’ Ramon raised a haughty brow.
‘Simply put, Don Rodrigo, her grandfather, is dying.’
Ramon frowned and sat up straighter. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘The big C, I’m afraid. He has six months at the most. Now, can you imagine what might happen to that girl if she’s let loose on the world with the kind of money she will inherit? Not to mention the running of Rodrigo’s empire,’ he added, with a quick, sharp look at his son.
‘So that’s what this is all about,’ Ramon said slowly. ‘Rodrigo thinks I might be a suitable candidate to take over, does he?’
‘I would say that is a great compliment, considering the vastness and complexity of his empire.’
‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,’ Ramon conceded irritably. ‘There’s only one problem.’
‘Oh?’ Don Pedro raised an eyebrow and waited.
‘I have no desire to be married.’
A moment’s silence followed before the older man answered. ‘Ramon, this marriage to Nena—’
‘Who could practically be my daughter,’ Ramon dismissed disparagingly.
‘Hardly. Unless you plan to enter the Guinness Book of Records as a very young father,’ his parent murmured with a touch of wry humour. ‘Now, this marriage—as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me—will hardly curtail your er—lifestyle. I’m sure that Nena has been brought up to expect a marriage of this kind. I haven’t, I admit, seen her for several years. She has been at boarding school—the Convent of the Sacré Coeur,’ he continued with a small satisfied smile. ‘That in itself is a good omen.’
‘Father, this whole notion is totally absurd!’ Ramon exploded. He jumped up from the chair, his lean, athletic figure clad in an exquisitely cut Italian navy silk suit, and began pacing the study. ‘You’d think it was the Middle Ages. I cannot agree to such a plan.’
‘At least give it some thought—think about it,’ Don Pedro said reasonably. ‘It would, of course, be an incredible opportunity for you. Businesswise, I mean.’
Ramon’s eyes flashed and he drew himself up taller. ‘If you think, Father, that I would get myself tangled up in a marriage of convenience out of a desire to improve my already not so shabby business ventures, then let me relieve you of the notion immediately,’ he replied witheringly.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Don Pedro responded carefully, measuring his son’s reaction. ‘Think of your mother and I. We barely knew one another before our marriage. And look how wonderfully it has turned out. The truth is I have never looked at another woman since, and I can assure you I was quite a lad in my day.’ He let out a long, low laugh. ‘And as for age—why, your mother’s twenty years my junior. You are barely thirteen years older than Nena. I cannot take that as a consideration. And besides, at thirty-two it is time you thought of setting up your nursery.’
‘Whatever, Father,’ Ramon growled, suddenly needing to be alone, to think, to straighten this mess out.
‘May I tell my old friend Don Rodrigo that you will at least think about the proposal? To turn it down out of hand would be nothing short of an insult.’
This last was true. The honour of being selected by one of the richest men in the world to be his future grandson-in-law, heir to all his responsibilities, was no light matter. Handled wrongly, this could affect a lifelong friendship.
Reluctantly Ramon nodded. ‘Very well, Father. But on one condition,’ he declared, his chin jutting firmly, ‘that I get to see Nena. I presume she has been made aware of the circumstances?’
‘Uh, not that I’m aware of,’ Don Pedro murmured, carefully shuffling a pile of papers on his desk. ‘All in good time.’
‘Great,’ Ramon replied cynically, rolling his eyes. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he avoided delivering the rest of the sentence about to escape his lips.
‘The Villalbas?’ Nena’s well-shaped brows creased and she tilted her lovely, lightly tanned face to one side, her flashing green eyes fixed on her grandfather. ‘I don’t seem to remember them. Did we know them back in Argentina?’
‘Of course, my love. But it has been quite a while since they last visited. Certainly not since you went off to school. Pedro Villalba is an old and trusted friend of mine, and his wife Augusta is in some way related to your late grandmother’s family.’
‘Ah.’ Nena nodded and smiled. Everyone was always somehow related to the family.
‘They are coming to tea tomorrow with their son, Ramon, whom you may remember. He came over once or twice when he was at Eton and then Oxford.’
‘Sorry, I haven’t a clue who he is.’ She shook her tawny gold-flecked hair, highlighted by two weeks of playing tennis every day in the South of France, and jumped up. ‘I’m off to the tournament now. Do you need anything before I go? Water for your pills?’ she asked, suddenly concerned.
Her grandfather seemed to have aged much during the past weeks, and she worried about him. Not for nothing had she inherited her deceased French mother’s perception and innate capability for running Thurston Manor, their lovely country house near Windsor, and for making sure that her beloved grandfather was cosseted.
‘No, no, my child. Off you run. Just make sure to be back on time for tea tomorrow.’
‘I’ll try. But we have the semi-finals, and if I get through today I may be playing.’
Don Rodrigo smiled at her benignly. He loved her so dearly, and wished—oh, how he wished—that he could live to see her bloom into the flower he perceived emerging, watch as she travelled towards womanhood. But that was not to be, he reminded himself with an inner sigh, accepting the soft kiss on his withered old cheek. And he must make sure she was safely provided for. Not just financially—there she was only too well provided for. If anything that was half the worry. In fact what truly concerned him were the fortune-hunters that he knew would hover like anxious vultures from here to Tierra del Fuego the minute he was dead and buried.
It was four by the time the Bentley drew up on the gravel drive before the splendid country house. Ramon experienced another wave of distaste. The whole thing was utterly absurd, and left him feeling as though he were participating in a very bad B movie. Still, he’d listened to his mother’s urgings and his father’s request to at least honour the visit. And he would, he supposed, alighting from the vehicle. At least after this he might be able to bring his father and Don Rodrigo to reason.
Several minutes later they were being conducted by the dignified white-haired butler onto the lawn, where Don Rodrigo heaved himself with some difficulty out of a wicker chair.
‘Amigos,’ he said, embracing Pedro and kissing Augusta. ‘What a pleasure it is to receive you in my home.’ Then he turned towards Ramon and eyed him closely. ‘How do you do, Ramon? It is several years since we last met, but I’ve followed your may I say rather brilliant progress?’ He quirked a brow and smiled. ‘Knowing your father, I am not surprised. But impressed. Very impressed.’
‘Coming from you, that is a compliment indeed,’ Ramon murmured, shaking the other man’s hand. He sensed the slight shaking and frailty in the fingers and realised that the sharp grey eyes belied failing health. He also realised that Don Pedro would not easily be fobbed off. As he sat down next to his mother at the table, already laid for afternoon tea, he wondered just how hard it was going to be to get out of this marriage. There was no sign of Nena, he observed a sudden spark of hope flashing. Perhaps she’d been told and had refused to agree to the arrangement. She was, after all, nearly twenty.
If so, all the better.
He was quite willing to help her out, advise her financially—even be a trustee, if Don Rodrigo so wished.
The thought began to take shape. Perhaps that was the way to work the situation, he mused, his quick brain already solving the matter. If Nena didn’t agree to the marriage then he could bow out gracefully and not be blamed, and it would all work out for the best. It was, he reflected, allowing wishful thinking to take the upper hand, a mere question of initiating the correct strategy.
‘Have they arrived?’ Nena asked breathlessly as she jumped out of her new Audi TT. After throwing her tennis racket onto one of the hall chairs, she glanced at herself in the gilt mirror. ‘I look a mess. But I suppose I’d better dash out and say hello, or Grandfather will kill me,’ she exclaimed to Worthing, the butler, who was eyeing her severely as he closed the door.
‘Don Rodrigo and the guests are on the lawn, Miss Nena.’ He still called her by her childhood name.
‘Good. Well, do see that tea is served, won’t you? Oh, and Worthing? Please ask Cook to serve both China and Ceylon. I don’t know which the guests would prefer.’
‘Of course, Miss Nena,’ he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head fondly as she flew across the hall, through the drawing room, and down the steps to the lawn, where the group was seated under the chestnut tree facing the lake.
Smoothing her hair back, she hurried across the grass. How nice for her grandfather to have some people to entertain. He saw so few nowadays. She was sure it wasn’t good for him to lead such a solitary existence, she reflected as she drew up on them from behind, but perhaps a lot of social activity might tire him.
‘Hello, I’m so sorry I’m late.’
Ramon turned.
‘Aunt Augusta, Uncle Rodrigo, it’s been ages,’ she said, kissing Ramon’s parents while he looked in frank admiration at the gorgeous, lithe young woman—at her never-ending long bronzed legs that eradicated for ever the fuzzy image he’d formed of a rather dowdy, plump adolescent. Her smile, he reflected, was dazzling, her teeth white and perfect, and her lightly tanned skin set off the beauty of her huge almond-shaped green eyes in a manner fit to leave even a seasoned womaniser like himself dazed.
And her hair…
It fell in feathery wisps from a ponytail, giving her the air of having tumbled straight out of bed, and leaving him in dire danger of an embarrassing physical reaction.
Pulling himself together, Ramon rose and shook hands, hoping none of these untoward emotions showed, and reminded himself of the true nature of their visit here.
‘Will you excuse me if I pop upstairs and change?’ she was saying to his mother in a charmingly assured manner that belied her youth. ‘I look a dreadful fright.’
He watched as she retreated swiftly across the lawn, trying to suppress the delightful image of that long, curved, slim body uncoiling amongst bedsheets, finding himself distressingly prey to a sensual twisting tug. He must not, he realised, removing his eyes from her, lose track of reality here. He caught his father’s approving eye and quickly concentrated once more on the conversation.
But if his father thought that Nena’s astonishing beauty and charm might make the marriage any more acceptable he was wrong. Instead it somehow made it worse. It was one thing to do a poor dowdy creature a favour, another to place under his protection a paragon whom, when she found her feet, would be the toast of society in every city they visited. The thought was strangely disturbing and he banished it.
‘Ramon, I hope you have thought about your father’s and my proposition,’ Don Rodrigo said, easing himself with obvious difficulty in the wicker chair, reminding Ramon of just how much was at stake here. ‘After one look at my lovely granddaughter I’m sure you are aware how impossible it would be for me to allow her to go out alone and unchaperoned into the world.’
‘Well, I don’t altogether agree, no,’ Ramon countered. ‘After all, sir, we are in the twenty-first century. A well-selected board of trustees could easily take care of her affairs. She seems a confident young woman, quite able to look after herself,’ he added.
‘Ha!’ Don Rodrigo let out a harsh exclamation. ‘Much you know about it. Oh, she’s got confidence and charm and excellent manners, of course. But she would be swept off her feet by the first fortune-hunter that walked into her life. And, believe me, they’re already lining up,’ he said darkly.
‘That I can believe,’ Pedro Villalba replied, sending his son a meaningful look from under his thick silver brows.
‘And it’s not only my little Nena I’m concerned about,’ Don Pedro continued, meeting Ramon’s eyes with a look as steady as his own. ‘It’s the future of all I’ve built up over a lifetime. I have no intention for that to go to rack and ruin, frittered away by some spendthrift. Trustees, as you mentioned earlier, are all fine and dandy, but they will not direct her sentimental life, look after her as a woman needs looking after.’
‘Excuse me for being so bold,’ Ramon said, leaning forward, ‘but does Nena have any idea of what’s going on here?’
‘Up until now I deemed it preferable to stay silent. After all, I do not want her to be unduly upset. And when she learns of my illness,’ he said stifling a sigh, ‘she will be most upset.’
‘Of course.’ Ramon looked down. ‘Don Rodrigo, although I would be more than willing to accept a role in an advisory capacity, I don’t feel that—’
‘One moment, young man. I am aware that all this has been thrust upon you in a most impromptu manner. But will you not at least take the opportunity, now that you have come all this way, of getting to know my granddaughter a little better? I am not suggesting that the two of you fall in love, or anything of that nature, merely that together you establish a well-balanced relationship. Nena has been brought up in the strictest possible manner. She would make you a good wife.
‘Many marriages work out very well under these conditions,’ he added with a thin, tired smile. ‘I know that in this day and age you young people all believe in Hollywood-style relationships—marriage one day, divorce the next. But real life, my boy, is very different. Look rather at your parents, and at myself. Our marriages were planned, and they worked out brilliantly.’
‘That’s all very well,’ Ramon countered, but then, seeing the butler carrying a large silver tray piled with scones and sandwiches, he closed his mouth.
Nena rushed into the large marble bathroom of her suite of rooms and took a rapid shower, her mind filled with the incredibly good-looking son of her grandfather’s friends. She had been quite taken aback, but hoped that her surprise had not been in any way evident.
He was older, of course, and rather forbidding and arrogant-looking, with his thick black hair, straight Roman nose, high slashed cheekbones and chestnut golden-flecked eyes. A bit like an actor, she reflected, rubbing herself with a thick terry towel before stepping into the dressing room and choosing a short pink linen Gucci dress.
Minutes later she tripped down the stairs and joined the others. She sat in the only available chair, next to Ramon, determined not to let his intense masculine aura distract her as she proceeded to serve the tea. The next few minutes were occupied with handing round sandwiches, and it was only when she sat back down that she realised Ramon was looking at her rather fiercely.
She shifted uncomfortably and suppressed a desire to pull her skirt lower. A delicious shiver coursed through her. She’d heard of men looking at you and leaving you feeling undressed. Now she knew what it meant. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming. Perhaps she’d spilled something on her dress and that was why he was looking her over in that confident manner.
She glanced down, but there was nothing, and she felt cross with herself for allowing this man to leave her feeling both self-conscious and—something else that she couldn’t quite define. Shifting closer to his mother, she half turned her back on him and chit-chatted about this and that for a while, trying not to be aware of his eyes upon her.
‘You must come and see the garden properly,’ she said to Augusta. ‘I’ve had some new flowerbeds laid out near the lake, and the little wood over there is charming to walk in.’
‘Thank you, my love,’ Augusta replied with a gracious smile. ‘But I’m afraid I find walking a bit of a strain these days, particularly in the heat. But Ramon, I’m sure, would be delighted to see the garden.’
‘Oh, no. I don’t think you’d like it at all,’ Nena said hastily, turning towards him, embarrassed and biting her lip while hoping she hadn’t sounded too rude. She could hardly refuse to take him, but the last place she wanted to go was for a walk in his austere, rather autocratic company.
‘Yes, Nena, that’s a good idea,’ her grandfather insisted. ‘You take Ramon for a walk while we old folks chat.’ Don Rodrigo smiled approvingly.
Unwilling to distress her grandfather by refusing, Nena turned and glanced at Ramon. ‘If you like we can go,’ she said, her tone unenthusiastic, hoping he’d refuse.
‘Fine. Let’s go.’
Reluctantly she rose and began walking down towards the lake with Ramon close by her side. He was tall, she observed, at least six foot two or more, and his shoulders were broad. There was something powerful and engulfing in his presence, she realised, an authority about him that reminded her in a way of her grandfather. Now, as they walked, he slipped off his jacket and threw it casually over his shoulder while Nena wondered what on earth to say to him.
Soon they’d reached the lakeside, and Ramon still hadn’t made any effort at conversation—although Nena could feel his eyes boring into her. It was really most uncomfortable, especially since he was so close to her. She was catching whiffs of his musky after-shave—and something else indefinable, something she’d never experienced next to any man before.
‘Those are peonies and delphiniums,’ she blabbered, pointing out the flowers, ‘and over there are a number of dahlias. But I’m sure you’re not really interested in flowers,’ she added quickly, pressing her hands together and wondering why she felt so wound up and nervous when usually she was perfectly at ease with visitors.
‘You’re right,’ he replied, his face breaking into a sudden charming smile that lit up his face as he looked down at her. ‘I’m no expert on flowers. But my parents and your grandfather seemed pretty determined that we should come for a walk together, don’t you think?’ he asked, testing the terrain.
‘Yes.’ She frowned, looking up at him, puzzled. ‘They did, didn’t they? Do you have any idea why?’
Ramon wished he’d kept his mouth shut. For now he felt like a cad, as though he was deceiving this young woman by not telling her the truth. Yet how could he come clean when she had not the slightest idea that her grandfather was dying?
‘I suppose they thought that we are nearer in age and might find more to talk about on our own,’ he said with a non-committal shrug. He found it hard to resist her enquiring gaze, that lovely frank innocence in her eyes and in her charming smile, and the underlying trace of sensuality that he’d be willing to bet she still hadn’t recognised in herself. The thought left him in dire danger of another embarrassing physical reaction and he turned quickly towards the lake. ‘Look, why don’t we keep them happy and you show me this famous wood?’ he said, pointing to his left with forced interest.
‘Okay,’ she agreed, glad that the atmosphere had lightened up. Perhaps he was just someone you needed to get to know better.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, taking her arm lightly as they reached a small bridge that crossed the lake to a path that led to the wood.
Another curious new sensation coursed through Nena at his touch on her flesh, and she was hard put to it not to shudder.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ she said, allowing him to guide her across, although she knew the bridge by heart. ‘I finished school last year. I wanted to go to university—was accepted by a couple, in fact,’ she added hastily. For some reason she didn’t want him to assume she was stupid. ‘But then Grandfather seemed increasingly unwell and I didn’t feel I could abandon him.’ She stopped and shrugged, then smiled up at him through long thick lashes. ‘He doesn’t seem any better lately, and I don’t want to make him unhappy.’
‘But of course you must go to university,’ Ramon replied. Part of him was shocked that her future might be compromised. The other part, the part that didn’t want to recognise just how attractive he found her, thought how appealing it was that in this day and age, when most women he came across thought only of their own wellbeing and personal ambition, she should place her grandfather first. Which, in turn, reminded him of all the pain she was going to experience when she learned of his terminal illness.
‘Maybe one day I’ll be able to go to college,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I’d really like to. But please,’ she said, her brows creasing suddenly, ‘promise you won’t tell Grandfather? I would hate for him to be upset or worried.’
‘Of course I won’t say anything. Anyway, it’s none of my business. Still, it seems odd that he won’t—’ Suddenly Ramon remembered. Of course Don Rodrigo didn’t want her out there, in the midst of people over whom he had no control. ‘Where were you accepted?’ he asked.
‘Oxford and the Sorbonne.’
He looked at her, brows raised. ‘That’s pretty good.’
‘You seem surprised,’ she countered, challenging him. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m a woman?’
‘Guilty,’ he said, a new and delicious twinkle brightening his eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’m not used to coming across women who are as lovely as you and yet who are obviously also highly gifted and intelligent.’
Nena’s cheeks flushed and she looked quickly away. ‘Oh, I’m not really that bright. I just like studying, that’s all. There’s the wood,’ she mumbled hastily.
‘What about your boyfriend?’ he probed. ‘Does he want you to go to university?’
‘Boyfriend?’ Nena frowned again, then laughed, a natural spontaneous gurgle that left Ramon swallowing. ‘Oh, I see. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, I have friends, of course, like Jimmy Chandler and David Onslow at the tennis club, but that’s different.’
‘And have none of them ever tried to kiss you?’ he asked in an amused, bantering tone, unable to resist the temptation of finding out more about this alluring creature to whom he was becoming increasingly drawn, despite the strange situation they were in.
‘Oh, Lord, no—they’re just pals.’ Nena gave an embarrassed shrug and their eyes met as they reached the edge of the wood. ‘This is the wood. Do you want to see it?’
‘Honestly?’ His eyes flashed wickedly.
‘Honestly,’ she responded, lips twitching.
‘Honestly, I have no interest whatsoever in seeing your wood—though if it is half as charming as its owner I suppose I should.’
‘Oh, shut up.’ She giggled, feeling now as though she’d known him a while. ‘That’s totally silly.’
‘Why don’t we sit over there by the lake for a few minutes and relax?’
‘All right.’
They walked back across the bridge and down to the water’s edge. ‘Here, let me lay this on the grass; it may be damp,’ he said, spreading out his jacket for her, trying to sort out the conflict raging in his mind.
‘Thanks.’ She sat on part of the jacket, leaving room for him, and he lowered himself next to her.
‘Tell me, what’s it like living with your grandfather?’ he asked suddenly, throwing a pebble spinning into the still waters of the lake.
‘I love him dearly. I mean, of course at times it’s a bit restrictive, but I need to look after him. That’s why I didn’t tell him I’d been accepted at Oxford, or he might have changed his mind and felt obliged to let me go. Then there would have been no one to look after him.’
‘But surely the staff would take care of him?’
‘Yes, but that’s not the same at all,’ she dismissed, raising her lovely determined chin. ‘Lately he seems to be so frail. I can’t quite explain it, but…’ She hesitated and pressed her fingers together, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘I’m just being silly, I suppose, but it worries me.’ She looked up and their eyes met. ‘Your parents seem so nice,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Do you live with them or on your own?’
‘Oh, on my own. I have several houses—my hacienda, a loft in Puert Madero in Buenos Aires. In London I stay at my parents’ place in Eaton Square, though. Quite a change,’ he added, aware that he could hardly tell her that he shared his life with Luisa, his official mistress, and on occasion a smattering of models, who drifted in and out. Luisa was not officially in-house, of course, but it was an ongoing relationship. And although she knew he had no intention of marrying her—she was twice divorced—they had a very pleasant time together.
Which brought him back to the matter at hand. What would happen to Luisa if, by some twist of fate, he decided to accept Don Rodrigo’s proposition?
Ramon glanced down at Nena once more. She was lovely, and unaware of it. Just as she was unaware of what awaited her just around the corner. Her grandfather’s death would shake her for ever from the safe cocoon she’d lived in all her life. It would be harsh and painful, he realised sadly. For as an only grandchild she was probably even more protected from the world than if her parents had been alive. Also she’d have no one—except some friends and her financial advisors—to turn to. Perhaps, he reflected sombrely, Don Rodrigo was not so wrong to want to protect her from all that might be waiting for her out there. All at once Ramon shared the old man’s fears for her.
‘Maybe we should be getting back,’ he said abruptly, glancing at the thin gold watch on his tanned wrist. ‘My parents will be wanting to leave soon.’
‘All right.’ She jumped up and he picked up the jacket, throwing it over his shoulder again as they made their way back to the group on the lawn.
It was odd, he reflected, that a plan which only an hour ago had struck him as absolutely preposterous now seemed considerably less so. Plus, as both Don Rodrigo and his father had pointed out, it was a marriage, not an affair. He was thirty-two, and would have to think of marriage and a family shortly anyway. Wouldn’t it be infinitely preferable to be married to a lovely creature like Nena, whom he could mould to his liking, teach the art of love, yet continue enjoying the Luisas of this world on the side? he reflected somewhat ruthlessly. All in all, having a beautiful, well-mannered society wife, whom he could take pleasure with in bed from time to time without changing his routine, might not be such a bad thing after all.
‘My love, I have something I need to speak to you about,’ Don Rodrigo said to his granddaughter the next evening over dinner.
‘Yes, Grandfather?’ Nena looked at him closely. He seemed very tired. In the past few days he had barely left his room, except to sit on the lawn yesterday afternoon with the Villalbas. ‘Is something wrong?’ she enquired anxiously.
‘After dinner we shall retire to the study and have a chat,’ he said, knowing the moment had finally arrived when he must tell her the truth.
Since the acceptance that morning of the proposition of marriage by Ramon Villalba he had known it was essential she learn about his illness and what the future held, however painful.
Don Rodrigo sampled a tiny spoonful of chocolate mousse. It turned bitter on his tongue. He had faced many hard moments in his life, but telling this child whom he loved so dearly that the end was near would rank among the cruellest blows life had dealt him. His only solace was that Ramon Villalba had, for whatever reason, accepted his proposition.
Half an hour later, seated as always on the tapes-tried footstool at his feet, Nena listened in anguished horror to her grandfather’s words.
‘But that’s impossible,’ she cried, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tight. ‘It can’t be true, Grandfather, there must be a mistake. You must have other tests—other opinions. It simply can’t be right,’ she ended, sobbing.
‘I’m afraid I’ve already done all that,’ he responded sadly, stroking the mane of tawny hair fanned out on his lap and soothing her tears. ‘That is why I have had to make provision for you.’
‘Pro-provision?’ she gulped, raising her head, still trying to absorb the horrible news he’d imparted.
‘Yes, my love. You must be taken care of, provided for.’
‘Please, Grandfather, don’t talk about it,’ she sobbed.
‘I’m afraid I must. Time is short and measures must be taken.’
‘Wh-what measures?’ she gulped sadly, trying to regain some control as the truth sank in.
Don Rodrigo hesitated, then, with a sigh, forged ahead. ‘Yesterday you met Ramon Villalba.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, taking his handkerchief and blowing her nose hard.
‘And you found him—pleasant?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. He was polite. Look, Grandfather, what has that got to do with you being ill?’ she burst out, leaning back on her heels, eyes pleading.
‘Ramon Villalba has proposed marriage.’
‘Marriage?’ Nena let out a horrified gasp and stood up, clutching the damp handkerchief between her nervous fingers. ‘But that is absurd, Grandfather. How can I get married to a man I don’t know, whom I don’t love? I don’t want to get married. I—’
‘Shush, child, do not get so agitated. Come here.’ He held out his hand and she sank once more to the footstool. ‘I have talked to the Villalbas. We all agree that this marriage is a good thing.’
‘How—how can you say that, Grandfather? It’s archaic. Nobody is forced to marry any longer; it’s unheard of. Oh, please, Grandfather, this can’t be real. There must be a mistake. I’m sure if you went to another doctor—’
‘Now, now. I want you to listen, Nena. Carefully. I am absolutely decided on this marriage. And I want the wedding to take place as soon as possible.’
‘You mean he came here to inspect me, as he might a horse or a piece of cattle?’ she cried. ‘Why would he propose an arrangement like this?’
‘I can think of several reasons—all of them perfectly valid,’ Don Rodrigo answered firmly. ‘He needs a wife from a good family and of excellent upbringing who is unsoiled. Also he is adequately prepared to take care of our business ventures.’
‘So that’s it,’ she whispered bitterly. ‘A business arrangement. Oh, Grandfather, how can you auction me off like this? It’s all too horrible.’ She turned, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Her pain at learning of her grandfather’s terminal illness was somehow increased by the knowledge that a man whom she’d ended the afternoon finding most agreeable was in fact nothing but a dirtbag. ‘You talked with him without knowing if I wanted this?’ she whispered at last, turning back to him, her eyes glistening with tears.
‘Yes, Nena, I did. Villalba is a practical man. I have informed myself, followed his career over a period of several years. He will take care of you, look out for you and the fortune you are going to inherit.’
‘I don’t care about any of that!’ she exclaimed.
‘Maybe not, but I do. Please do this for me,’ he added, a softer, pleading note entering his voice. ‘I can die in peace knowing that you are in his hands.’
‘Oh, please don’t talk like that,’ she begged once more, kneeling next to him.
‘Then agree to my request,’ Don Rodrigo said, exercising a considerable amount of emotional pressure. He sighed inwardly. It was the only way to bring the matter to a fast and satisfactory conclusion. ‘Answer me, Nena. Tell me you’ll do as I ask.’
Nena stared through her tears at the carpet, her emotions in turmoil. The last thing she wanted was to be married to a man she barely knew. A wave of frustration overtook her. This was, after all, the most important step in her life—yet she had no control over it. Despite her feelings, she already knew what the answer must be.
‘I’ll do it, Grandfather,’ she whispered.
At that moment she hated Ramon Villalba.
CHAPTER TWO
THE wedding—a small, intimate affair, with only the two families present—took place at the fashionable church of St James, Spanish Place, in London, two weeks later. Afterwards they returned to Don Rodrigo’s house in Chester Square to quietly celebrate the nuptials.
Nena wafted through the ceremony in a daze, her emotions blunted, the pain of seeing her grandfather withering daily barely allowing her to think clearly about what the future next to a man she despised would hold.
‘Are you okay?’ Ramon asked quietly, touching her arm as they moved into the hall. She deposited the bouquet of flowers on the hall table and allowed the butler to take her wrap.
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she answered coldly.
‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her, noting the dark rings around her beautiful green eyes and the sadness they held. ‘A bride should be happy on her wedding day.’
‘Happy?’ she jeered, sending him a glare. ‘How could any bride be happy, married in these circumstances?’
‘I know these are not the happiest of times,’ he agreed levelly, glancing at Don Rodrigo, mounting the stairs with extreme difficulty. ‘Still, I want you to know, Nena, that as your husband I shall do my best to make you happy.’
‘How very gracious of you,’ she responded bitterly, barely attempting to conceal the anger in her voice. How dared he pretend he cared? Wasn’t it bad enough that she was losing her grandfather, whom she adored, without having Ramon’s odious presence thrust upon her?
She sent him an angry look, then spun on the heel of her designer shoe and marched towards the stairs.
Ramon followed her at a distance. To his consternation Nena had not unbent, as he’d hoped she would. She had refused to receive him again before the wedding and had barely addressed a word to him since leaving the church. He sighed. This did not bode well for the future. But it was done now. The knot had been tied and the vows exchanged. All that remained was for them both to make the best of it.
‘I thought you would prefer to come here to the island rather than be with a crowd,’ Ramon said above the purr of the engine as the helicopter hovered over the Aegean.
Nena could distinguish an island below, and a small port, with a yacht and a number of colourful fishing boats bobbing in the harbour. Then she saw a rambling white villa, surrounded by smaller dwellings with little blue shutters and, in the distance, a windmill. At any other time she would have been enchanted. But right now being in Greece on her bride-groom’s private island or being in Battersea would have meant about the same to her. All she wanted was to be alone, to think, to assimilate the shock that having her world tipped topsy-turvy from one moment to the other had left her in.
As they alighted Ramon took her hand firmly, and they walked up a small winding path from the beach where the chopper had landed. A soft evening breeze blew in from the sea, gulls twirled overhead, and villagers sat on the wall waving at them with bright smiles. As they approached the villa a little girl ran forward and, curtseying, handed her a bouquet of wild flowers. Despite her numb state and her sadness, Nena smiled down at the child and thanked her.
She gazed at the flowers, reminded that this was her wedding day.
The saddest day of her life.
For a moment tears welled, but she suppressed them as fast as they came. She had no right to be unhappy. At least her grandfather would have a happy end to his life. And that mattered more than anything.
Then all at once she became deeply conscious of Ramon standing next to her, his powerful body so close he almost touched her. And she shivered. What came next in this awful sequence of events? she wondered as slowly they moved on up towards the steps of the house. What would he expect from her as his wife?
For the first time, as they entered the huge hall, then stepped into the tiled drawing room and out onto the low-walled terrace overlooking the cerulean sea beyond, Nena faced her dilemma. Suddenly she glanced at Ramon, who was speaking to one of the servants. He looked like a man not used to being thwarted. Everyone jumped at his quiet, polite commands. What, she wondered, would he want from her?
‘I’ve ordered some champagne,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Afterwards you might like to tour the first of your new homes,’ he added, with that same touch of sardonic humour she’d observed the first day by the lake. Remember, she told herself, he doesn’t care about you. You’re nothing more than a lucrative asset.
‘I feel rather tired,’ she said, seating herself on the colourful woven cushions that were spread over the white-washed stone sofa surrounding the wall that formed a cozy niche. ‘I think I’ll go and rest in a minute, if you don’t mind. Perhaps one of the maids could show me to my room.’
‘To our room, you mean,’ he returned firmly.
Her eyes flew up to meet his and she shivered. ‘I—I think we need to talk about that.’ She clasped her hands together and felt her cheeks go bright pink.
‘What is there to talk about?’ Ramon asked, leaning lazily back against the wall in his immaculate grey suit. He managed to look at ease in it, despite being on a relaxed Greek island.
‘A lot, I think.’
‘Oh?’ He raised an enquiring brow.
‘Yes. We—this is a marriage of convenience. You, for whatever reason, decided that it suited you to propose,’ she replied hotly, sending him an angry glare. ‘I accepted because I love my grandfather and don’t want him to end his days worrying and miserable. I don’t think that either of those reasons constitutes grounds for—for intimacy.’ She ended hurriedly, wishing this conversation wasn’t taking place.
‘I see.’ Ramon gazed at her speculatively. He hadn’t reckoned with this—had thought that once he had her to himself things would somehow smooth themselves out. Perhaps, he reflected reluctantly, he would have to give her some time to get used to the idea that she was his.
The thought sent a slash of heat racing through his body and he stood straighter. ‘We’ll talk about this later on,’ he said, seeing a servant appear with the champagne. ‘For now, let’s relax and have a drink.’
Seconds later he was handing her a glass filled with sparkling champagne. ‘Welcome to Agapos,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘May you be happy and contented here, señora mia.’
Nena made a minute gesture of acknowledgement with her glass, and instead of the sip she’d intended took a large, long gulp. She certainly needed something to get her through the next few hours…days—nights.
Ramon watched her. He would have to restrain the desire that had been consuming him for the past two weeks and control the powerful urge he had to take her to his bed. There was time for that, he told himself. No need to rush things. He was willing to pander to her present needs—for a while. Still, there was a limit to his patience.
But she was experiencing a period of deep trauma, caused by her grandfather’s illness, and their marriage must have come as something of a surprise, he realised soberly. Then there was the fact that she was very young, and apparently had very little or no sexual experience. She was perhaps afraid. It would be up to him to make sure that it all happened smoothly, that her initiation to the bedroom and its pleasures was an enjoyable experience. He took a deep breath and forced his mind onto something else before his body betrayed him.
Three nights later Ramon was feeling considerably less amenable. Nena had barely spoken to him, and when she did she was grudgingly polite. They’d spent several stonily silent hours on the beach, on the yacht, driving around the island. If he proposed a plan she agreed neither happily nor unhappily.
Indifferent.
That was what she was. And it was driving him crazy. He could have handled raw anger, tears, a show of passion. But this blatant unresponsiveness and determination to remain as distant from him as possible was intolerable.
He sent her a scorching glance across the table which had been tastefully laid on the terrace. The moon was rising and the night was dotted with stars. The perfect night to be with a woman, he thought. They could have spent wonderful hours together, yet she refused to budge from this tenacious position she’d assumed. What was going on inside that lovely head? he wondered. What thoughts rankled? What was it that was eating her?
‘Nena, I think that if there is something disturbing you, you should tell me about it. I’ve tried to be as accommodating as possible,’ he added, thinking of the separate bedrooms he’d instructed the staff to arrange, ‘but I think you owe me an explanation.’
‘An explanation?’ She lowered her fork to her plate and sent an icy stare across the crisp white cloth. ‘I don’t think I owe you anything, Ramon. Neither of us owes the other. We cut a deal. We each, apparently—though I don’t quite see it that way—are supposed to benefit from this arrangement. I can see the advantages for you. I have yet to find out what mine are.’
‘Is that how you see this? Purely as a business arrangement?’ he said, shocked that someone so young could be so level-headed, so…
‘That’s exactly how I think of it. And the sooner you do so as well, the better it will be for both of us. Why don’t we end this farce of a honeymoon at once and get back home?’
‘We are home,’ he replied coldly. ‘Home, from now on, is where I reside. My homes have now become your homes.’
‘I have to go back to my grandfather,’ she said doggedly staring at her plate.
‘I have no objection to remaining in England for the present. But in our home.’
‘But—’
‘There are no buts,’ he returned autocratically. ‘We shall stay with my parents. I have instructed my estate agents to look for a place for us.’
‘I don’t want to go to Eaton Square,’ Nena muttered through gritted teeth, her fingers clenched as she tried not to cry. ‘I want to go home—to Thurston. Why don’t you just go back to Buenos Aires and—?’
She stopped herself in time from saying back to your mistress. He had no idea that she’d seen the pictures of him and Luisa Somebody-or-other in Hola! magazine. The pictures had been taken in Gstaad, where they’d been winter sporting. In fact Ramon had no notion that she knew about his lifestyle. She had found out quite by chance about the woman in his life, as she’d flipped through an old copy of the magazine that Doña Augusta had brought for her grandfather.
And, surprisingly, it had hurt.
It didn’t matter that she despised the man for agreeing to marry her, despised his motives and everything he stood for. The sight of him—arm possessively around the shoulders of a lush, luscious, stunning brunette, obviously a highly worldly and sophisticated woman, near to his own age—had left her inordinately troubled. Not that it was anything to do with her, she’d reasoned then as she did now. What did she care how many women he slept with? She had no intention of being one of them, did she?
Ramon leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Nena, I have no objection to your visiting your grandfather, spending time with him, and of course there will come a time—’ He cut off, unwilling to say the words he knew would hurt her so much, while deeply aware that it was his duty to prepare her for what he suspected would take place in a very short time. ‘But I do require that your official and permanent residence be under my roof,’ he finished firmly as she drew her trembling fingers from his grasp. ‘I will not allow my wife to live anywhere but with me.’
He’d never thought he would feel so strongly possessive the day he married. Had never thought about it much at all. But now that it had happened he felt a need to control, to be in the driving seat. He had never bothered being jealous in the past. If a woman lost interest—why, he usually had long before, and was sticking around out of courtesy.
But Nena was different. He sensed it deep down in a part of himself he hadn’t known existed, some deep, primeval instinct that he’d tapped into on his wedding day and wouldn’t leave him be; the same instinct that was leaving him ever more antsy as he passed her closed door each night on his way to bed.
Patience, he repeated to himself once again. She’s young. Give her time. But it was becoming increasingly difficult.
That night Nena was unable to sleep. She had slipped on one of the beautiful, flimsy, spaghetti-strapped lawn nightdresses that were part of her hastily put together trousseau, chosen by her personal shopper. She looked down at it and sighed. She’d taken no interest in her trousseau, had merely agreed with anything Maureen had shown her. Now, half-afraid, she looked at herself in the mirror. She could see the shadow of her body peeping through the thin fabric and closed her eyes. How hard it was to admit to herself that despite her wish to alienate him, she was constantly thinking of her husband, that when he came close to her every nerve vibrated, that a new, torrid heat she’d never known charged through her being with an alien vibrance that left her damp in places she was embarrassed to think of. Desperately she searched for answers, unable to pinpoint this new, unquenchable thirst that had invaded her being and couldn’t be satiated.
Angry with herself, and desperate to be in the open, she moved out onto the vast balcony that contoured the upper story of the villa. Leaning her hands on the balustrade, her long hair flowing about her shoulders, Nena gazed out over the Aegean at the starlit night and listened to the sea softly lapping the shore. This was her honeymoon, and should have been the most wonderful moment of her life, yet here she was, miserable in more ways than one. She let out a long sigh.
‘Aren’t you sleepy?’ The deep husky voice just behind her made her spin round and gasp, another thrust of emotion rushing through her.
Ramon stood before her, more handsome than ever in silk pyjama pants, the top open revealing an expanse of bronzed chest. In the pool of lantern light she could see a gleam flashing in his golden-flecked chestnut eyes as they flicked over her, taking in each detail of her body in a cool, possessive manner, as an owner might look over a thoroughbred. The thin nightdress, she knew, left little to the imagination.
Ashamed, Nena moved her hands behind her against the balustrade, unaware that by doing so her small, delicious breasts were thrust towards him invitingly as her hair fell back from her shoulders and her perfect throat glistened in the moonlight.
God, she was lovely, Ramon acknowledged, a shaft of untamed desire taking hold once more as he moved towards her, unable to resist. And she was his wife. He had every right to possess her.
‘Nena,’ he whispered, his voice low and sultry, ‘let me love you. Let me be your husband.’
‘I—I can’t—’ she responded hoarsely, only too conscious of his scent, of the maleness of him, of everything about him that drew her even while she tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons why she couldn’t let it happen.
‘I promise not to hurt you,’ he said reasonably, leaning his hands on each side of the balustrade, his tanned face and sensual lips only inches from hers.
It was then Nena realised, with a tingling shudder that left her weak, that he was about to kiss her.
And she could do nothing to stop him. Knew that however much she tried to justify it to herself she wouldn’t stop him. She must resist, must not show him that she cared, that in spite of the fact that she despised him she also longed for his touch, to discover in his arms what it would be like to become a woman.
Then, before she could think further, his lips came down on hers, and Nena gave way to her first real kiss. She felt his lips prying hers open. For a moment she tried to draw back and protest, but the firm yet gentle insistence of his tongue working its way cunningly into her mouth, left her clutching his hard shoulders instead, trying to hold on to something as the earth swayed beneath her feet.
Ramon drew her into his arms, and, pressing his hand into the small of her back, felt the delicious curve of her bottom, her small taut breasts pressed against his chest. What would she do when she felt his hardness against her? he wondered. He was careful not to rush her as his tongue probed further, thrusting carefully, leading her gently to a response, containing his rampant desire to possess her until she was ready for more, aware that this was her first everything.
So he took it slowly, sensing her waning resistance, the fight between her brain and her body, her instinct and her soul. Then, just as smoothly and firmly, he drew her closer—until she could feel the length of him, until her tongue began tentatively seeking his, guiding her all the way, hands caressing her back, the soft curve of her perfect thighs.
Then all at once he felt her arms tighten about him, heard her tiny gasp as he left her mouth and began kissing her throat, and knew he was well on his way.
Nena threw her head back and moaned, giving herself up to his caresses. She let out another tiny gasp of delight and surprise when his lips reached her breast, encircling her taut nipple, taunting it through the soft texture of her nightdress, making her want to scream with joy and pain, to reach for more, to feel free of the fabric that stood between them. But still Ramon lingered.
Slipping a hand from behind her, he gently fondled her other breast until Nena thought she couldn’t bear the searing rush of heat that stabbed her somewhere down in a place she’d never been entirely conscious of until this moment, but that now begged for some new kind of fulfilment and release.
Then a primal, tight, knotted spiral that she’d never before experienced rose within her, mounting until she thought she’d scream. And just as she could bear it no longer, as her fingers raked his thick black hair and she wanted to beg for mercy, for him to stop, a miracle happened and the hot, intense, coiled buildup crashed, simply let loose, wafted into an ecstatic joyride that lingered on and on for several seconds, leaving her limp and weak, her knees giving way beneath her as Ramon held her up and she fell extenuated against him.
‘Mi linda,’ he whispered, lifting her in his arms then carrying her through the French windows into his bedroom with the male satisfaction and pride of knowing he’d just introduced her to her first sexual experience.
‘What happened?’ she whispered as he laid her down in the middle of the huge bamboo four-poster bed, with its voile curtains and soft, cool linen sheets.
‘You just experienced your first orgasm,’ he said, slipping next to her onto the bed, his smile as arrogant as it was possessive.
‘Oh.’ Slowly Nena recouped her breath. Then suddenly she became aware that Ramon was about to remove his pyjama pants. Exercising every ounce of will-power, she sat up and brushed her hair aside, little aware of how tantalising she looked in the glow of the soft bedside lamps.
‘Ramon, what are you doing?’
‘Nena, you may be young and a virgin,’ he said with a touch of humour in his flashing brown eyes, ‘but I think you know very well what I’m doing. It’s time I made you truly my wife.’
‘No. I don’t want to.’ She moved back against the pillows and drew her legs up under her nightdress.
‘Nena, after what just happened out there that is a ridiculous statement,’ he said with a low, husky laugh that left her once again prey to the rush of heat that had assailed her previously. ‘You want me just as much as I want you,’ he said softly, trailing his long dark fingers from her throat to her breast, where he stopped just above her nipple and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to start all over again,’ he said with quiet, yet arrogant assurance, ‘and I’ll leave you alone.’
Nena tried to think straight, to resist the tantalising caress that was fuzzing her brain. ‘I don’t—I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can, mi linda, of course you can. Remember, I’m your husband. You can do anything with me, Nena, anything at all. I’ll show you, take you places you’ve never dreamed of.’
Her better judgement now fading into complete oblivion, Nena let her head sink back against the pillow with a long sigh.
‘No,’ Ramon said in an authoritative tone, ‘don’t run away from me. I want you here with me. I want you to know who is loving you and when. Nena, take off your nightgown.’
Again she tried to shy away. ‘No. Please, Ramon, I—’
‘Nena, might I remind you that a few days ago you vowed to obey me? I would hate to see you not keep your word.’ His eyes pinned her now, allowing no room for flight. ‘I am your husband, the man who has the right to see you, to possess you.’
It was a command, she realised, wishing she had the will-power to refuse him. Part of her hated him for what he was doing; the other submitted with intense female surrender. After all, he was right. The vow to obey had been part of their marriage ceremony; she had pronounced the words. But she hadn’t thought of their meaning. Now, seeing him rise and stand over her next to the bed, his face unsmiling as his gaze held hers, she knew that the words were for real.
Slowly, very slowly, Nena slipped to the edge of the bed.
‘Stand up,’ he ordered softly.
Nena did as he bade her—standing, cheeks flushed, clenching her hands, as gently but firmly he pulled up the nightdress and slipped it over her head, leaving her before him with nothing but the long strands of her silky tawny mane for protection.
Then Ramon took a step back and feasted his eyes on her. ‘You’re beautiful—lovely,’ he whispered hoarsely, letting his fingers trail over her, past her breast on down to her belly.
Despite her embarrassment Nena experienced another mind-wrenching tingle rush through her when his fingers reached further. All at once she realised she felt damp and hot, filled with a desire so great she could barely control the moan that escaped her when his fingers fondled her soft mound of golden curls, then slipped between her legs, probing further as he drew her close with his other arm.
And all at once she wanted to experience his skin on hers, to know what he felt like, and it was she who began tugging at the tie of his pyjamas.
‘Not so fast, cariña,’ he murmured, close to her ear. ‘There’s time for that.’
‘No,’ she muttered, gasping as he touched a place deep inside her, provoking thrusts of pain and joy, leaving her increasingly ragged and wanting. ‘You saw me. Now I want to see you.’
Ramon let out a low, satisfied laugh. ‘Very well, my darling.’ With that he continued caressing her with one hand while with the other he helped her remove the offending garments.
Soon they were standing naked, facing one another. Then Ramon gently removed his fingers and looked into her eyes. ‘I am your husband, Nena, don’t be ashamed.’
And the amazing thing, Nena realised, baffled, was that she wasn’t. In fact she felt a strange new power take hold as he looked at her, and—tentatively at first—she allowed herself to look at his body, feast on his strong, bronzed and muscled limbs, his broad yet lean torso, then on down.
Firmly Ramon slipped his hand over hers and drew it towards him. ‘I want you to feel me as I’ve felt you,’ he said, drawing her back into his arms and gently placing her hand upon him, strangely enchanted to know that this was the first time she’d been with a man, that he was the first to teach her. Another sudden rush of possessiveness and then something far stronger hit him with utter surprise: for all at once he hoped he would be the last.
It was a strange, overwhelming feeling that left him more emotionally touched than he could have believed possible. Now, as his arms slipped around her once more and he drew her back onto the bed, he tried to reason with himself, keep up the control. But he couldn’t—could think only of reaching further, knowing her thoroughly, and he kissed her, not gently, as before, but with a new, surging passion that eradicated all trace of hesitation. The latter was replaced by a passionate, gnawing hunger that he’d rarely known but that needed to be assuaged.
Nena held her breath and let her feelings take over, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he would hear it, delighting in the hard wall of muscled male body cleaving against her. And something more, something much more troubling yet stirring, a primal need, grew inside her that she knew she had to pursue, as Ramon began a thorough and delicious investigation of her body, starting with feathery kisses at her throat that descended, further and further, taunting her aching swollen nipples, then moved on down until he reached her core.
Nena let out a gasp as his tongue flicked over the little nub of sensitive flesh she’d been unaware existed until this very moment. Seconds later she was moaning, writhing, unable to restrain the need to rake her fingers through his hair.
‘Ramon!’ she cried, and shattered again into a myriad of indescribable sensations, only to end up curled in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and soothed her gently as every pulse in her body beat wildly.
And there was more to come.
Just as Nena was beginning to steady herself Ramon slipped his fingers between her thighs once more and probed, slowly, feeling the soft liquid honey, making sure she was ready for what was to happen next.
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Fiona Hood-Stewart
Ramon Villalba is handsome, gifted and wealthy. So why would he want a bride of convenience?Nena Carvajal is an exquisitely beautiful young heiress who needs protecting from fortune hunters. It would be no hardship for Ramon to enjoy the pleasures of an arranged marriage with her. Ramon is confident he can tame his headstrong virgin wife. But Nena had expected to marry for love…
“Nena,” he whispered. “Let me love you—let me be your husband.”
“I—I can’t…” she responded hoarsely, only too conscious of his scent, of the maleness of him, of everything about him that drew her, while she tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons she couldn’t let it happen.
“I promise not to hurt you,” he said reasonably, leaning his hands on each side of her on the balustrade, his tanned face and sensual lips only inches from hers.
She realized with a tingling shudder that left her weak, that he was about to kiss her.
Scottish author FIONA HOOD-STEWART has led a cosmopolitan life from the day she was born. Schooled in Europe and fluent in seven languages, she draws on her own experiences in the world of old money, big business and the international jet set for inspiration in creating her books. She now lives in Switzerland with her two teenage sons.
You can visit Fiona’s Web site at www.fionahood-stewart.com.
Fiona is also one of the international collection of bestselling authors writing for MIRA
Books. Her latest novel, Southern Belle, is available next month. Look out for a tempting extract at the end of this book.
Her other titles include:
The Stolen Years
“A feast for anyone who yearns for a long, rich read.”
—Romantic Times
The Journey Home
“Well told…with plot twist and powerful emotions.”
—Romantic Times
The Society Bride
Fiona Hood-Stewart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
HE’D been summoned, Ramon Villalba realised. He frowned as he sat astride his fine Passo Fino and stared across the wide, green open spaces where several thousand heads of cattle—all belonging to him—grazed, oblivious of the fact that their owner was once again about to board his company jet in Buenos Aires and head for London.
It was rare these days that his father summoned him. After all, Ramon was thirty-two, and had cut his eye-teeth a long while ago. So the matter must be extremely important and the summons immediately met.
He experienced a moment’s concern. Could it be the health of one of his parents’ that was the issue here? Surely not. His mother, with whom he had an exceptionally close relationship, would have confided in him. Still, he wasted no time in galloping back to the gracious hacienda, its ancient terracotta walls bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, and having Juanito, his manservant, pack his bags in readiness for the journey.
Twenty-four hours later he was sitting in the book-lined study of his family’s home in Eaton Square, trying to absorb the impact of what his father had just said.
‘But that’s utterly preposterous!’ Ramon exclaimed, dragging his fingers through his thick black hair and shaking his head. ‘As I recollect, Nena Carvajal is not twenty yet—a mere girl. How can you and old Don Rodrigo even contemplate marriage for her?’
‘Really, Ramon. Stop being prissy. You sound as if you’ve never heard of a marriage of convenience.’
‘Well, certainly not one like this,’ Ramon countered with feeling, letting his long legs stretch before him and crossing his ankles. His bronzed brow creased. ‘I don’t know what’s got into your heads. If Nena thinks of me as anything at all it’s probably in the light of an—’
‘Rubbish.’ His father, a well-dressed man in his late seventies, cut him short briskly. ‘I doubt if she remembers you at all—which may be for the best.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘There is a very strong reason for this arrangement.’
‘Oh? And what might that be?’ Ramon raised a haughty brow.
‘Simply put, Don Rodrigo, her grandfather, is dying.’
Ramon frowned and sat up straighter. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘The big C, I’m afraid. He has six months at the most. Now, can you imagine what might happen to that girl if she’s let loose on the world with the kind of money she will inherit? Not to mention the running of Rodrigo’s empire,’ he added, with a quick, sharp look at his son.
‘So that’s what this is all about,’ Ramon said slowly. ‘Rodrigo thinks I might be a suitable candidate to take over, does he?’
‘I would say that is a great compliment, considering the vastness and complexity of his empire.’
‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,’ Ramon conceded irritably. ‘There’s only one problem.’
‘Oh?’ Don Pedro raised an eyebrow and waited.
‘I have no desire to be married.’
A moment’s silence followed before the older man answered. ‘Ramon, this marriage to Nena—’
‘Who could practically be my daughter,’ Ramon dismissed disparagingly.
‘Hardly. Unless you plan to enter the Guinness Book of Records as a very young father,’ his parent murmured with a touch of wry humour. ‘Now, this marriage—as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me—will hardly curtail your er—lifestyle. I’m sure that Nena has been brought up to expect a marriage of this kind. I haven’t, I admit, seen her for several years. She has been at boarding school—the Convent of the Sacré Coeur,’ he continued with a small satisfied smile. ‘That in itself is a good omen.’
‘Father, this whole notion is totally absurd!’ Ramon exploded. He jumped up from the chair, his lean, athletic figure clad in an exquisitely cut Italian navy silk suit, and began pacing the study. ‘You’d think it was the Middle Ages. I cannot agree to such a plan.’
‘At least give it some thought—think about it,’ Don Pedro said reasonably. ‘It would, of course, be an incredible opportunity for you. Businesswise, I mean.’
Ramon’s eyes flashed and he drew himself up taller. ‘If you think, Father, that I would get myself tangled up in a marriage of convenience out of a desire to improve my already not so shabby business ventures, then let me relieve you of the notion immediately,’ he replied witheringly.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Don Pedro responded carefully, measuring his son’s reaction. ‘Think of your mother and I. We barely knew one another before our marriage. And look how wonderfully it has turned out. The truth is I have never looked at another woman since, and I can assure you I was quite a lad in my day.’ He let out a long, low laugh. ‘And as for age—why, your mother’s twenty years my junior. You are barely thirteen years older than Nena. I cannot take that as a consideration. And besides, at thirty-two it is time you thought of setting up your nursery.’
‘Whatever, Father,’ Ramon growled, suddenly needing to be alone, to think, to straighten this mess out.
‘May I tell my old friend Don Rodrigo that you will at least think about the proposal? To turn it down out of hand would be nothing short of an insult.’
This last was true. The honour of being selected by one of the richest men in the world to be his future grandson-in-law, heir to all his responsibilities, was no light matter. Handled wrongly, this could affect a lifelong friendship.
Reluctantly Ramon nodded. ‘Very well, Father. But on one condition,’ he declared, his chin jutting firmly, ‘that I get to see Nena. I presume she has been made aware of the circumstances?’
‘Uh, not that I’m aware of,’ Don Pedro murmured, carefully shuffling a pile of papers on his desk. ‘All in good time.’
‘Great,’ Ramon replied cynically, rolling his eyes. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he avoided delivering the rest of the sentence about to escape his lips.
‘The Villalbas?’ Nena’s well-shaped brows creased and she tilted her lovely, lightly tanned face to one side, her flashing green eyes fixed on her grandfather. ‘I don’t seem to remember them. Did we know them back in Argentina?’
‘Of course, my love. But it has been quite a while since they last visited. Certainly not since you went off to school. Pedro Villalba is an old and trusted friend of mine, and his wife Augusta is in some way related to your late grandmother’s family.’
‘Ah.’ Nena nodded and smiled. Everyone was always somehow related to the family.
‘They are coming to tea tomorrow with their son, Ramon, whom you may remember. He came over once or twice when he was at Eton and then Oxford.’
‘Sorry, I haven’t a clue who he is.’ She shook her tawny gold-flecked hair, highlighted by two weeks of playing tennis every day in the South of France, and jumped up. ‘I’m off to the tournament now. Do you need anything before I go? Water for your pills?’ she asked, suddenly concerned.
Her grandfather seemed to have aged much during the past weeks, and she worried about him. Not for nothing had she inherited her deceased French mother’s perception and innate capability for running Thurston Manor, their lovely country house near Windsor, and for making sure that her beloved grandfather was cosseted.
‘No, no, my child. Off you run. Just make sure to be back on time for tea tomorrow.’
‘I’ll try. But we have the semi-finals, and if I get through today I may be playing.’
Don Rodrigo smiled at her benignly. He loved her so dearly, and wished—oh, how he wished—that he could live to see her bloom into the flower he perceived emerging, watch as she travelled towards womanhood. But that was not to be, he reminded himself with an inner sigh, accepting the soft kiss on his withered old cheek. And he must make sure she was safely provided for. Not just financially—there she was only too well provided for. If anything that was half the worry. In fact what truly concerned him were the fortune-hunters that he knew would hover like anxious vultures from here to Tierra del Fuego the minute he was dead and buried.
It was four by the time the Bentley drew up on the gravel drive before the splendid country house. Ramon experienced another wave of distaste. The whole thing was utterly absurd, and left him feeling as though he were participating in a very bad B movie. Still, he’d listened to his mother’s urgings and his father’s request to at least honour the visit. And he would, he supposed, alighting from the vehicle. At least after this he might be able to bring his father and Don Rodrigo to reason.
Several minutes later they were being conducted by the dignified white-haired butler onto the lawn, where Don Rodrigo heaved himself with some difficulty out of a wicker chair.
‘Amigos,’ he said, embracing Pedro and kissing Augusta. ‘What a pleasure it is to receive you in my home.’ Then he turned towards Ramon and eyed him closely. ‘How do you do, Ramon? It is several years since we last met, but I’ve followed your may I say rather brilliant progress?’ He quirked a brow and smiled. ‘Knowing your father, I am not surprised. But impressed. Very impressed.’
‘Coming from you, that is a compliment indeed,’ Ramon murmured, shaking the other man’s hand. He sensed the slight shaking and frailty in the fingers and realised that the sharp grey eyes belied failing health. He also realised that Don Pedro would not easily be fobbed off. As he sat down next to his mother at the table, already laid for afternoon tea, he wondered just how hard it was going to be to get out of this marriage. There was no sign of Nena, he observed a sudden spark of hope flashing. Perhaps she’d been told and had refused to agree to the arrangement. She was, after all, nearly twenty.
If so, all the better.
He was quite willing to help her out, advise her financially—even be a trustee, if Don Rodrigo so wished.
The thought began to take shape. Perhaps that was the way to work the situation, he mused, his quick brain already solving the matter. If Nena didn’t agree to the marriage then he could bow out gracefully and not be blamed, and it would all work out for the best. It was, he reflected, allowing wishful thinking to take the upper hand, a mere question of initiating the correct strategy.
‘Have they arrived?’ Nena asked breathlessly as she jumped out of her new Audi TT. After throwing her tennis racket onto one of the hall chairs, she glanced at herself in the gilt mirror. ‘I look a mess. But I suppose I’d better dash out and say hello, or Grandfather will kill me,’ she exclaimed to Worthing, the butler, who was eyeing her severely as he closed the door.
‘Don Rodrigo and the guests are on the lawn, Miss Nena.’ He still called her by her childhood name.
‘Good. Well, do see that tea is served, won’t you? Oh, and Worthing? Please ask Cook to serve both China and Ceylon. I don’t know which the guests would prefer.’
‘Of course, Miss Nena,’ he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head fondly as she flew across the hall, through the drawing room, and down the steps to the lawn, where the group was seated under the chestnut tree facing the lake.
Smoothing her hair back, she hurried across the grass. How nice for her grandfather to have some people to entertain. He saw so few nowadays. She was sure it wasn’t good for him to lead such a solitary existence, she reflected as she drew up on them from behind, but perhaps a lot of social activity might tire him.
‘Hello, I’m so sorry I’m late.’
Ramon turned.
‘Aunt Augusta, Uncle Rodrigo, it’s been ages,’ she said, kissing Ramon’s parents while he looked in frank admiration at the gorgeous, lithe young woman—at her never-ending long bronzed legs that eradicated for ever the fuzzy image he’d formed of a rather dowdy, plump adolescent. Her smile, he reflected, was dazzling, her teeth white and perfect, and her lightly tanned skin set off the beauty of her huge almond-shaped green eyes in a manner fit to leave even a seasoned womaniser like himself dazed.
And her hair…
It fell in feathery wisps from a ponytail, giving her the air of having tumbled straight out of bed, and leaving him in dire danger of an embarrassing physical reaction.
Pulling himself together, Ramon rose and shook hands, hoping none of these untoward emotions showed, and reminded himself of the true nature of their visit here.
‘Will you excuse me if I pop upstairs and change?’ she was saying to his mother in a charmingly assured manner that belied her youth. ‘I look a dreadful fright.’
He watched as she retreated swiftly across the lawn, trying to suppress the delightful image of that long, curved, slim body uncoiling amongst bedsheets, finding himself distressingly prey to a sensual twisting tug. He must not, he realised, removing his eyes from her, lose track of reality here. He caught his father’s approving eye and quickly concentrated once more on the conversation.
But if his father thought that Nena’s astonishing beauty and charm might make the marriage any more acceptable he was wrong. Instead it somehow made it worse. It was one thing to do a poor dowdy creature a favour, another to place under his protection a paragon whom, when she found her feet, would be the toast of society in every city they visited. The thought was strangely disturbing and he banished it.
‘Ramon, I hope you have thought about your father’s and my proposition,’ Don Rodrigo said, easing himself with obvious difficulty in the wicker chair, reminding Ramon of just how much was at stake here. ‘After one look at my lovely granddaughter I’m sure you are aware how impossible it would be for me to allow her to go out alone and unchaperoned into the world.’
‘Well, I don’t altogether agree, no,’ Ramon countered. ‘After all, sir, we are in the twenty-first century. A well-selected board of trustees could easily take care of her affairs. She seems a confident young woman, quite able to look after herself,’ he added.
‘Ha!’ Don Rodrigo let out a harsh exclamation. ‘Much you know about it. Oh, she’s got confidence and charm and excellent manners, of course. But she would be swept off her feet by the first fortune-hunter that walked into her life. And, believe me, they’re already lining up,’ he said darkly.
‘That I can believe,’ Pedro Villalba replied, sending his son a meaningful look from under his thick silver brows.
‘And it’s not only my little Nena I’m concerned about,’ Don Pedro continued, meeting Ramon’s eyes with a look as steady as his own. ‘It’s the future of all I’ve built up over a lifetime. I have no intention for that to go to rack and ruin, frittered away by some spendthrift. Trustees, as you mentioned earlier, are all fine and dandy, but they will not direct her sentimental life, look after her as a woman needs looking after.’
‘Excuse me for being so bold,’ Ramon said, leaning forward, ‘but does Nena have any idea of what’s going on here?’
‘Up until now I deemed it preferable to stay silent. After all, I do not want her to be unduly upset. And when she learns of my illness,’ he said stifling a sigh, ‘she will be most upset.’
‘Of course.’ Ramon looked down. ‘Don Rodrigo, although I would be more than willing to accept a role in an advisory capacity, I don’t feel that—’
‘One moment, young man. I am aware that all this has been thrust upon you in a most impromptu manner. But will you not at least take the opportunity, now that you have come all this way, of getting to know my granddaughter a little better? I am not suggesting that the two of you fall in love, or anything of that nature, merely that together you establish a well-balanced relationship. Nena has been brought up in the strictest possible manner. She would make you a good wife.
‘Many marriages work out very well under these conditions,’ he added with a thin, tired smile. ‘I know that in this day and age you young people all believe in Hollywood-style relationships—marriage one day, divorce the next. But real life, my boy, is very different. Look rather at your parents, and at myself. Our marriages were planned, and they worked out brilliantly.’
‘That’s all very well,’ Ramon countered, but then, seeing the butler carrying a large silver tray piled with scones and sandwiches, he closed his mouth.
Nena rushed into the large marble bathroom of her suite of rooms and took a rapid shower, her mind filled with the incredibly good-looking son of her grandfather’s friends. She had been quite taken aback, but hoped that her surprise had not been in any way evident.
He was older, of course, and rather forbidding and arrogant-looking, with his thick black hair, straight Roman nose, high slashed cheekbones and chestnut golden-flecked eyes. A bit like an actor, she reflected, rubbing herself with a thick terry towel before stepping into the dressing room and choosing a short pink linen Gucci dress.
Minutes later she tripped down the stairs and joined the others. She sat in the only available chair, next to Ramon, determined not to let his intense masculine aura distract her as she proceeded to serve the tea. The next few minutes were occupied with handing round sandwiches, and it was only when she sat back down that she realised Ramon was looking at her rather fiercely.
She shifted uncomfortably and suppressed a desire to pull her skirt lower. A delicious shiver coursed through her. She’d heard of men looking at you and leaving you feeling undressed. Now she knew what it meant. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming. Perhaps she’d spilled something on her dress and that was why he was looking her over in that confident manner.
She glanced down, but there was nothing, and she felt cross with herself for allowing this man to leave her feeling both self-conscious and—something else that she couldn’t quite define. Shifting closer to his mother, she half turned her back on him and chit-chatted about this and that for a while, trying not to be aware of his eyes upon her.
‘You must come and see the garden properly,’ she said to Augusta. ‘I’ve had some new flowerbeds laid out near the lake, and the little wood over there is charming to walk in.’
‘Thank you, my love,’ Augusta replied with a gracious smile. ‘But I’m afraid I find walking a bit of a strain these days, particularly in the heat. But Ramon, I’m sure, would be delighted to see the garden.’
‘Oh, no. I don’t think you’d like it at all,’ Nena said hastily, turning towards him, embarrassed and biting her lip while hoping she hadn’t sounded too rude. She could hardly refuse to take him, but the last place she wanted to go was for a walk in his austere, rather autocratic company.
‘Yes, Nena, that’s a good idea,’ her grandfather insisted. ‘You take Ramon for a walk while we old folks chat.’ Don Rodrigo smiled approvingly.
Unwilling to distress her grandfather by refusing, Nena turned and glanced at Ramon. ‘If you like we can go,’ she said, her tone unenthusiastic, hoping he’d refuse.
‘Fine. Let’s go.’
Reluctantly she rose and began walking down towards the lake with Ramon close by her side. He was tall, she observed, at least six foot two or more, and his shoulders were broad. There was something powerful and engulfing in his presence, she realised, an authority about him that reminded her in a way of her grandfather. Now, as they walked, he slipped off his jacket and threw it casually over his shoulder while Nena wondered what on earth to say to him.
Soon they’d reached the lakeside, and Ramon still hadn’t made any effort at conversation—although Nena could feel his eyes boring into her. It was really most uncomfortable, especially since he was so close to her. She was catching whiffs of his musky after-shave—and something else indefinable, something she’d never experienced next to any man before.
‘Those are peonies and delphiniums,’ she blabbered, pointing out the flowers, ‘and over there are a number of dahlias. But I’m sure you’re not really interested in flowers,’ she added quickly, pressing her hands together and wondering why she felt so wound up and nervous when usually she was perfectly at ease with visitors.
‘You’re right,’ he replied, his face breaking into a sudden charming smile that lit up his face as he looked down at her. ‘I’m no expert on flowers. But my parents and your grandfather seemed pretty determined that we should come for a walk together, don’t you think?’ he asked, testing the terrain.
‘Yes.’ She frowned, looking up at him, puzzled. ‘They did, didn’t they? Do you have any idea why?’
Ramon wished he’d kept his mouth shut. For now he felt like a cad, as though he was deceiving this young woman by not telling her the truth. Yet how could he come clean when she had not the slightest idea that her grandfather was dying?
‘I suppose they thought that we are nearer in age and might find more to talk about on our own,’ he said with a non-committal shrug. He found it hard to resist her enquiring gaze, that lovely frank innocence in her eyes and in her charming smile, and the underlying trace of sensuality that he’d be willing to bet she still hadn’t recognised in herself. The thought left him in dire danger of another embarrassing physical reaction and he turned quickly towards the lake. ‘Look, why don’t we keep them happy and you show me this famous wood?’ he said, pointing to his left with forced interest.
‘Okay,’ she agreed, glad that the atmosphere had lightened up. Perhaps he was just someone you needed to get to know better.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, taking her arm lightly as they reached a small bridge that crossed the lake to a path that led to the wood.
Another curious new sensation coursed through Nena at his touch on her flesh, and she was hard put to it not to shudder.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ she said, allowing him to guide her across, although she knew the bridge by heart. ‘I finished school last year. I wanted to go to university—was accepted by a couple, in fact,’ she added hastily. For some reason she didn’t want him to assume she was stupid. ‘But then Grandfather seemed increasingly unwell and I didn’t feel I could abandon him.’ She stopped and shrugged, then smiled up at him through long thick lashes. ‘He doesn’t seem any better lately, and I don’t want to make him unhappy.’
‘But of course you must go to university,’ Ramon replied. Part of him was shocked that her future might be compromised. The other part, the part that didn’t want to recognise just how attractive he found her, thought how appealing it was that in this day and age, when most women he came across thought only of their own wellbeing and personal ambition, she should place her grandfather first. Which, in turn, reminded him of all the pain she was going to experience when she learned of his terminal illness.
‘Maybe one day I’ll be able to go to college,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I’d really like to. But please,’ she said, her brows creasing suddenly, ‘promise you won’t tell Grandfather? I would hate for him to be upset or worried.’
‘Of course I won’t say anything. Anyway, it’s none of my business. Still, it seems odd that he won’t—’ Suddenly Ramon remembered. Of course Don Rodrigo didn’t want her out there, in the midst of people over whom he had no control. ‘Where were you accepted?’ he asked.
‘Oxford and the Sorbonne.’
He looked at her, brows raised. ‘That’s pretty good.’
‘You seem surprised,’ she countered, challenging him. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m a woman?’
‘Guilty,’ he said, a new and delicious twinkle brightening his eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’m not used to coming across women who are as lovely as you and yet who are obviously also highly gifted and intelligent.’
Nena’s cheeks flushed and she looked quickly away. ‘Oh, I’m not really that bright. I just like studying, that’s all. There’s the wood,’ she mumbled hastily.
‘What about your boyfriend?’ he probed. ‘Does he want you to go to university?’
‘Boyfriend?’ Nena frowned again, then laughed, a natural spontaneous gurgle that left Ramon swallowing. ‘Oh, I see. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, I have friends, of course, like Jimmy Chandler and David Onslow at the tennis club, but that’s different.’
‘And have none of them ever tried to kiss you?’ he asked in an amused, bantering tone, unable to resist the temptation of finding out more about this alluring creature to whom he was becoming increasingly drawn, despite the strange situation they were in.
‘Oh, Lord, no—they’re just pals.’ Nena gave an embarrassed shrug and their eyes met as they reached the edge of the wood. ‘This is the wood. Do you want to see it?’
‘Honestly?’ His eyes flashed wickedly.
‘Honestly,’ she responded, lips twitching.
‘Honestly, I have no interest whatsoever in seeing your wood—though if it is half as charming as its owner I suppose I should.’
‘Oh, shut up.’ She giggled, feeling now as though she’d known him a while. ‘That’s totally silly.’
‘Why don’t we sit over there by the lake for a few minutes and relax?’
‘All right.’
They walked back across the bridge and down to the water’s edge. ‘Here, let me lay this on the grass; it may be damp,’ he said, spreading out his jacket for her, trying to sort out the conflict raging in his mind.
‘Thanks.’ She sat on part of the jacket, leaving room for him, and he lowered himself next to her.
‘Tell me, what’s it like living with your grandfather?’ he asked suddenly, throwing a pebble spinning into the still waters of the lake.
‘I love him dearly. I mean, of course at times it’s a bit restrictive, but I need to look after him. That’s why I didn’t tell him I’d been accepted at Oxford, or he might have changed his mind and felt obliged to let me go. Then there would have been no one to look after him.’
‘But surely the staff would take care of him?’
‘Yes, but that’s not the same at all,’ she dismissed, raising her lovely determined chin. ‘Lately he seems to be so frail. I can’t quite explain it, but…’ She hesitated and pressed her fingers together, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘I’m just being silly, I suppose, but it worries me.’ She looked up and their eyes met. ‘Your parents seem so nice,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Do you live with them or on your own?’
‘Oh, on my own. I have several houses—my hacienda, a loft in Puert Madero in Buenos Aires. In London I stay at my parents’ place in Eaton Square, though. Quite a change,’ he added, aware that he could hardly tell her that he shared his life with Luisa, his official mistress, and on occasion a smattering of models, who drifted in and out. Luisa was not officially in-house, of course, but it was an ongoing relationship. And although she knew he had no intention of marrying her—she was twice divorced—they had a very pleasant time together.
Which brought him back to the matter at hand. What would happen to Luisa if, by some twist of fate, he decided to accept Don Rodrigo’s proposition?
Ramon glanced down at Nena once more. She was lovely, and unaware of it. Just as she was unaware of what awaited her just around the corner. Her grandfather’s death would shake her for ever from the safe cocoon she’d lived in all her life. It would be harsh and painful, he realised sadly. For as an only grandchild she was probably even more protected from the world than if her parents had been alive. Also she’d have no one—except some friends and her financial advisors—to turn to. Perhaps, he reflected sombrely, Don Rodrigo was not so wrong to want to protect her from all that might be waiting for her out there. All at once Ramon shared the old man’s fears for her.
‘Maybe we should be getting back,’ he said abruptly, glancing at the thin gold watch on his tanned wrist. ‘My parents will be wanting to leave soon.’
‘All right.’ She jumped up and he picked up the jacket, throwing it over his shoulder again as they made their way back to the group on the lawn.
It was odd, he reflected, that a plan which only an hour ago had struck him as absolutely preposterous now seemed considerably less so. Plus, as both Don Rodrigo and his father had pointed out, it was a marriage, not an affair. He was thirty-two, and would have to think of marriage and a family shortly anyway. Wouldn’t it be infinitely preferable to be married to a lovely creature like Nena, whom he could mould to his liking, teach the art of love, yet continue enjoying the Luisas of this world on the side? he reflected somewhat ruthlessly. All in all, having a beautiful, well-mannered society wife, whom he could take pleasure with in bed from time to time without changing his routine, might not be such a bad thing after all.
‘My love, I have something I need to speak to you about,’ Don Rodrigo said to his granddaughter the next evening over dinner.
‘Yes, Grandfather?’ Nena looked at him closely. He seemed very tired. In the past few days he had barely left his room, except to sit on the lawn yesterday afternoon with the Villalbas. ‘Is something wrong?’ she enquired anxiously.
‘After dinner we shall retire to the study and have a chat,’ he said, knowing the moment had finally arrived when he must tell her the truth.
Since the acceptance that morning of the proposition of marriage by Ramon Villalba he had known it was essential she learn about his illness and what the future held, however painful.
Don Rodrigo sampled a tiny spoonful of chocolate mousse. It turned bitter on his tongue. He had faced many hard moments in his life, but telling this child whom he loved so dearly that the end was near would rank among the cruellest blows life had dealt him. His only solace was that Ramon Villalba had, for whatever reason, accepted his proposition.
Half an hour later, seated as always on the tapes-tried footstool at his feet, Nena listened in anguished horror to her grandfather’s words.
‘But that’s impossible,’ she cried, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tight. ‘It can’t be true, Grandfather, there must be a mistake. You must have other tests—other opinions. It simply can’t be right,’ she ended, sobbing.
‘I’m afraid I’ve already done all that,’ he responded sadly, stroking the mane of tawny hair fanned out on his lap and soothing her tears. ‘That is why I have had to make provision for you.’
‘Pro-provision?’ she gulped, raising her head, still trying to absorb the horrible news he’d imparted.
‘Yes, my love. You must be taken care of, provided for.’
‘Please, Grandfather, don’t talk about it,’ she sobbed.
‘I’m afraid I must. Time is short and measures must be taken.’
‘Wh-what measures?’ she gulped sadly, trying to regain some control as the truth sank in.
Don Rodrigo hesitated, then, with a sigh, forged ahead. ‘Yesterday you met Ramon Villalba.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, taking his handkerchief and blowing her nose hard.
‘And you found him—pleasant?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. He was polite. Look, Grandfather, what has that got to do with you being ill?’ she burst out, leaning back on her heels, eyes pleading.
‘Ramon Villalba has proposed marriage.’
‘Marriage?’ Nena let out a horrified gasp and stood up, clutching the damp handkerchief between her nervous fingers. ‘But that is absurd, Grandfather. How can I get married to a man I don’t know, whom I don’t love? I don’t want to get married. I—’
‘Shush, child, do not get so agitated. Come here.’ He held out his hand and she sank once more to the footstool. ‘I have talked to the Villalbas. We all agree that this marriage is a good thing.’
‘How—how can you say that, Grandfather? It’s archaic. Nobody is forced to marry any longer; it’s unheard of. Oh, please, Grandfather, this can’t be real. There must be a mistake. I’m sure if you went to another doctor—’
‘Now, now. I want you to listen, Nena. Carefully. I am absolutely decided on this marriage. And I want the wedding to take place as soon as possible.’
‘You mean he came here to inspect me, as he might a horse or a piece of cattle?’ she cried. ‘Why would he propose an arrangement like this?’
‘I can think of several reasons—all of them perfectly valid,’ Don Rodrigo answered firmly. ‘He needs a wife from a good family and of excellent upbringing who is unsoiled. Also he is adequately prepared to take care of our business ventures.’
‘So that’s it,’ she whispered bitterly. ‘A business arrangement. Oh, Grandfather, how can you auction me off like this? It’s all too horrible.’ She turned, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Her pain at learning of her grandfather’s terminal illness was somehow increased by the knowledge that a man whom she’d ended the afternoon finding most agreeable was in fact nothing but a dirtbag. ‘You talked with him without knowing if I wanted this?’ she whispered at last, turning back to him, her eyes glistening with tears.
‘Yes, Nena, I did. Villalba is a practical man. I have informed myself, followed his career over a period of several years. He will take care of you, look out for you and the fortune you are going to inherit.’
‘I don’t care about any of that!’ she exclaimed.
‘Maybe not, but I do. Please do this for me,’ he added, a softer, pleading note entering his voice. ‘I can die in peace knowing that you are in his hands.’
‘Oh, please don’t talk like that,’ she begged once more, kneeling next to him.
‘Then agree to my request,’ Don Rodrigo said, exercising a considerable amount of emotional pressure. He sighed inwardly. It was the only way to bring the matter to a fast and satisfactory conclusion. ‘Answer me, Nena. Tell me you’ll do as I ask.’
Nena stared through her tears at the carpet, her emotions in turmoil. The last thing she wanted was to be married to a man she barely knew. A wave of frustration overtook her. This was, after all, the most important step in her life—yet she had no control over it. Despite her feelings, she already knew what the answer must be.
‘I’ll do it, Grandfather,’ she whispered.
At that moment she hated Ramon Villalba.
CHAPTER TWO
THE wedding—a small, intimate affair, with only the two families present—took place at the fashionable church of St James, Spanish Place, in London, two weeks later. Afterwards they returned to Don Rodrigo’s house in Chester Square to quietly celebrate the nuptials.
Nena wafted through the ceremony in a daze, her emotions blunted, the pain of seeing her grandfather withering daily barely allowing her to think clearly about what the future next to a man she despised would hold.
‘Are you okay?’ Ramon asked quietly, touching her arm as they moved into the hall. She deposited the bouquet of flowers on the hall table and allowed the butler to take her wrap.
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she answered coldly.
‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her, noting the dark rings around her beautiful green eyes and the sadness they held. ‘A bride should be happy on her wedding day.’
‘Happy?’ she jeered, sending him a glare. ‘How could any bride be happy, married in these circumstances?’
‘I know these are not the happiest of times,’ he agreed levelly, glancing at Don Rodrigo, mounting the stairs with extreme difficulty. ‘Still, I want you to know, Nena, that as your husband I shall do my best to make you happy.’
‘How very gracious of you,’ she responded bitterly, barely attempting to conceal the anger in her voice. How dared he pretend he cared? Wasn’t it bad enough that she was losing her grandfather, whom she adored, without having Ramon’s odious presence thrust upon her?
She sent him an angry look, then spun on the heel of her designer shoe and marched towards the stairs.
Ramon followed her at a distance. To his consternation Nena had not unbent, as he’d hoped she would. She had refused to receive him again before the wedding and had barely addressed a word to him since leaving the church. He sighed. This did not bode well for the future. But it was done now. The knot had been tied and the vows exchanged. All that remained was for them both to make the best of it.
‘I thought you would prefer to come here to the island rather than be with a crowd,’ Ramon said above the purr of the engine as the helicopter hovered over the Aegean.
Nena could distinguish an island below, and a small port, with a yacht and a number of colourful fishing boats bobbing in the harbour. Then she saw a rambling white villa, surrounded by smaller dwellings with little blue shutters and, in the distance, a windmill. At any other time she would have been enchanted. But right now being in Greece on her bride-groom’s private island or being in Battersea would have meant about the same to her. All she wanted was to be alone, to think, to assimilate the shock that having her world tipped topsy-turvy from one moment to the other had left her in.
As they alighted Ramon took her hand firmly, and they walked up a small winding path from the beach where the chopper had landed. A soft evening breeze blew in from the sea, gulls twirled overhead, and villagers sat on the wall waving at them with bright smiles. As they approached the villa a little girl ran forward and, curtseying, handed her a bouquet of wild flowers. Despite her numb state and her sadness, Nena smiled down at the child and thanked her.
She gazed at the flowers, reminded that this was her wedding day.
The saddest day of her life.
For a moment tears welled, but she suppressed them as fast as they came. She had no right to be unhappy. At least her grandfather would have a happy end to his life. And that mattered more than anything.
Then all at once she became deeply conscious of Ramon standing next to her, his powerful body so close he almost touched her. And she shivered. What came next in this awful sequence of events? she wondered as slowly they moved on up towards the steps of the house. What would he expect from her as his wife?
For the first time, as they entered the huge hall, then stepped into the tiled drawing room and out onto the low-walled terrace overlooking the cerulean sea beyond, Nena faced her dilemma. Suddenly she glanced at Ramon, who was speaking to one of the servants. He looked like a man not used to being thwarted. Everyone jumped at his quiet, polite commands. What, she wondered, would he want from her?
‘I’ve ordered some champagne,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Afterwards you might like to tour the first of your new homes,’ he added, with that same touch of sardonic humour she’d observed the first day by the lake. Remember, she told herself, he doesn’t care about you. You’re nothing more than a lucrative asset.
‘I feel rather tired,’ she said, seating herself on the colourful woven cushions that were spread over the white-washed stone sofa surrounding the wall that formed a cozy niche. ‘I think I’ll go and rest in a minute, if you don’t mind. Perhaps one of the maids could show me to my room.’
‘To our room, you mean,’ he returned firmly.
Her eyes flew up to meet his and she shivered. ‘I—I think we need to talk about that.’ She clasped her hands together and felt her cheeks go bright pink.
‘What is there to talk about?’ Ramon asked, leaning lazily back against the wall in his immaculate grey suit. He managed to look at ease in it, despite being on a relaxed Greek island.
‘A lot, I think.’
‘Oh?’ He raised an enquiring brow.
‘Yes. We—this is a marriage of convenience. You, for whatever reason, decided that it suited you to propose,’ she replied hotly, sending him an angry glare. ‘I accepted because I love my grandfather and don’t want him to end his days worrying and miserable. I don’t think that either of those reasons constitutes grounds for—for intimacy.’ She ended hurriedly, wishing this conversation wasn’t taking place.
‘I see.’ Ramon gazed at her speculatively. He hadn’t reckoned with this—had thought that once he had her to himself things would somehow smooth themselves out. Perhaps, he reflected reluctantly, he would have to give her some time to get used to the idea that she was his.
The thought sent a slash of heat racing through his body and he stood straighter. ‘We’ll talk about this later on,’ he said, seeing a servant appear with the champagne. ‘For now, let’s relax and have a drink.’
Seconds later he was handing her a glass filled with sparkling champagne. ‘Welcome to Agapos,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘May you be happy and contented here, señora mia.’
Nena made a minute gesture of acknowledgement with her glass, and instead of the sip she’d intended took a large, long gulp. She certainly needed something to get her through the next few hours…days—nights.
Ramon watched her. He would have to restrain the desire that had been consuming him for the past two weeks and control the powerful urge he had to take her to his bed. There was time for that, he told himself. No need to rush things. He was willing to pander to her present needs—for a while. Still, there was a limit to his patience.
But she was experiencing a period of deep trauma, caused by her grandfather’s illness, and their marriage must have come as something of a surprise, he realised soberly. Then there was the fact that she was very young, and apparently had very little or no sexual experience. She was perhaps afraid. It would be up to him to make sure that it all happened smoothly, that her initiation to the bedroom and its pleasures was an enjoyable experience. He took a deep breath and forced his mind onto something else before his body betrayed him.
Three nights later Ramon was feeling considerably less amenable. Nena had barely spoken to him, and when she did she was grudgingly polite. They’d spent several stonily silent hours on the beach, on the yacht, driving around the island. If he proposed a plan she agreed neither happily nor unhappily.
Indifferent.
That was what she was. And it was driving him crazy. He could have handled raw anger, tears, a show of passion. But this blatant unresponsiveness and determination to remain as distant from him as possible was intolerable.
He sent her a scorching glance across the table which had been tastefully laid on the terrace. The moon was rising and the night was dotted with stars. The perfect night to be with a woman, he thought. They could have spent wonderful hours together, yet she refused to budge from this tenacious position she’d assumed. What was going on inside that lovely head? he wondered. What thoughts rankled? What was it that was eating her?
‘Nena, I think that if there is something disturbing you, you should tell me about it. I’ve tried to be as accommodating as possible,’ he added, thinking of the separate bedrooms he’d instructed the staff to arrange, ‘but I think you owe me an explanation.’
‘An explanation?’ She lowered her fork to her plate and sent an icy stare across the crisp white cloth. ‘I don’t think I owe you anything, Ramon. Neither of us owes the other. We cut a deal. We each, apparently—though I don’t quite see it that way—are supposed to benefit from this arrangement. I can see the advantages for you. I have yet to find out what mine are.’
‘Is that how you see this? Purely as a business arrangement?’ he said, shocked that someone so young could be so level-headed, so…
‘That’s exactly how I think of it. And the sooner you do so as well, the better it will be for both of us. Why don’t we end this farce of a honeymoon at once and get back home?’
‘We are home,’ he replied coldly. ‘Home, from now on, is where I reside. My homes have now become your homes.’
‘I have to go back to my grandfather,’ she said doggedly staring at her plate.
‘I have no objection to remaining in England for the present. But in our home.’
‘But—’
‘There are no buts,’ he returned autocratically. ‘We shall stay with my parents. I have instructed my estate agents to look for a place for us.’
‘I don’t want to go to Eaton Square,’ Nena muttered through gritted teeth, her fingers clenched as she tried not to cry. ‘I want to go home—to Thurston. Why don’t you just go back to Buenos Aires and—?’
She stopped herself in time from saying back to your mistress. He had no idea that she’d seen the pictures of him and Luisa Somebody-or-other in Hola! magazine. The pictures had been taken in Gstaad, where they’d been winter sporting. In fact Ramon had no notion that she knew about his lifestyle. She had found out quite by chance about the woman in his life, as she’d flipped through an old copy of the magazine that Doña Augusta had brought for her grandfather.
And, surprisingly, it had hurt.
It didn’t matter that she despised the man for agreeing to marry her, despised his motives and everything he stood for. The sight of him—arm possessively around the shoulders of a lush, luscious, stunning brunette, obviously a highly worldly and sophisticated woman, near to his own age—had left her inordinately troubled. Not that it was anything to do with her, she’d reasoned then as she did now. What did she care how many women he slept with? She had no intention of being one of them, did she?
Ramon leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Nena, I have no objection to your visiting your grandfather, spending time with him, and of course there will come a time—’ He cut off, unwilling to say the words he knew would hurt her so much, while deeply aware that it was his duty to prepare her for what he suspected would take place in a very short time. ‘But I do require that your official and permanent residence be under my roof,’ he finished firmly as she drew her trembling fingers from his grasp. ‘I will not allow my wife to live anywhere but with me.’
He’d never thought he would feel so strongly possessive the day he married. Had never thought about it much at all. But now that it had happened he felt a need to control, to be in the driving seat. He had never bothered being jealous in the past. If a woman lost interest—why, he usually had long before, and was sticking around out of courtesy.
But Nena was different. He sensed it deep down in a part of himself he hadn’t known existed, some deep, primeval instinct that he’d tapped into on his wedding day and wouldn’t leave him be; the same instinct that was leaving him ever more antsy as he passed her closed door each night on his way to bed.
Patience, he repeated to himself once again. She’s young. Give her time. But it was becoming increasingly difficult.
That night Nena was unable to sleep. She had slipped on one of the beautiful, flimsy, spaghetti-strapped lawn nightdresses that were part of her hastily put together trousseau, chosen by her personal shopper. She looked down at it and sighed. She’d taken no interest in her trousseau, had merely agreed with anything Maureen had shown her. Now, half-afraid, she looked at herself in the mirror. She could see the shadow of her body peeping through the thin fabric and closed her eyes. How hard it was to admit to herself that despite her wish to alienate him, she was constantly thinking of her husband, that when he came close to her every nerve vibrated, that a new, torrid heat she’d never known charged through her being with an alien vibrance that left her damp in places she was embarrassed to think of. Desperately she searched for answers, unable to pinpoint this new, unquenchable thirst that had invaded her being and couldn’t be satiated.
Angry with herself, and desperate to be in the open, she moved out onto the vast balcony that contoured the upper story of the villa. Leaning her hands on the balustrade, her long hair flowing about her shoulders, Nena gazed out over the Aegean at the starlit night and listened to the sea softly lapping the shore. This was her honeymoon, and should have been the most wonderful moment of her life, yet here she was, miserable in more ways than one. She let out a long sigh.
‘Aren’t you sleepy?’ The deep husky voice just behind her made her spin round and gasp, another thrust of emotion rushing through her.
Ramon stood before her, more handsome than ever in silk pyjama pants, the top open revealing an expanse of bronzed chest. In the pool of lantern light she could see a gleam flashing in his golden-flecked chestnut eyes as they flicked over her, taking in each detail of her body in a cool, possessive manner, as an owner might look over a thoroughbred. The thin nightdress, she knew, left little to the imagination.
Ashamed, Nena moved her hands behind her against the balustrade, unaware that by doing so her small, delicious breasts were thrust towards him invitingly as her hair fell back from her shoulders and her perfect throat glistened in the moonlight.
God, she was lovely, Ramon acknowledged, a shaft of untamed desire taking hold once more as he moved towards her, unable to resist. And she was his wife. He had every right to possess her.
‘Nena,’ he whispered, his voice low and sultry, ‘let me love you. Let me be your husband.’
‘I—I can’t—’ she responded hoarsely, only too conscious of his scent, of the maleness of him, of everything about him that drew her even while she tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons why she couldn’t let it happen.
‘I promise not to hurt you,’ he said reasonably, leaning his hands on each side of the balustrade, his tanned face and sensual lips only inches from hers.
It was then Nena realised, with a tingling shudder that left her weak, that he was about to kiss her.
And she could do nothing to stop him. Knew that however much she tried to justify it to herself she wouldn’t stop him. She must resist, must not show him that she cared, that in spite of the fact that she despised him she also longed for his touch, to discover in his arms what it would be like to become a woman.
Then, before she could think further, his lips came down on hers, and Nena gave way to her first real kiss. She felt his lips prying hers open. For a moment she tried to draw back and protest, but the firm yet gentle insistence of his tongue working its way cunningly into her mouth, left her clutching his hard shoulders instead, trying to hold on to something as the earth swayed beneath her feet.
Ramon drew her into his arms, and, pressing his hand into the small of her back, felt the delicious curve of her bottom, her small taut breasts pressed against his chest. What would she do when she felt his hardness against her? he wondered. He was careful not to rush her as his tongue probed further, thrusting carefully, leading her gently to a response, containing his rampant desire to possess her until she was ready for more, aware that this was her first everything.
So he took it slowly, sensing her waning resistance, the fight between her brain and her body, her instinct and her soul. Then, just as smoothly and firmly, he drew her closer—until she could feel the length of him, until her tongue began tentatively seeking his, guiding her all the way, hands caressing her back, the soft curve of her perfect thighs.
Then all at once he felt her arms tighten about him, heard her tiny gasp as he left her mouth and began kissing her throat, and knew he was well on his way.
Nena threw her head back and moaned, giving herself up to his caresses. She let out another tiny gasp of delight and surprise when his lips reached her breast, encircling her taut nipple, taunting it through the soft texture of her nightdress, making her want to scream with joy and pain, to reach for more, to feel free of the fabric that stood between them. But still Ramon lingered.
Slipping a hand from behind her, he gently fondled her other breast until Nena thought she couldn’t bear the searing rush of heat that stabbed her somewhere down in a place she’d never been entirely conscious of until this moment, but that now begged for some new kind of fulfilment and release.
Then a primal, tight, knotted spiral that she’d never before experienced rose within her, mounting until she thought she’d scream. And just as she could bear it no longer, as her fingers raked his thick black hair and she wanted to beg for mercy, for him to stop, a miracle happened and the hot, intense, coiled buildup crashed, simply let loose, wafted into an ecstatic joyride that lingered on and on for several seconds, leaving her limp and weak, her knees giving way beneath her as Ramon held her up and she fell extenuated against him.
‘Mi linda,’ he whispered, lifting her in his arms then carrying her through the French windows into his bedroom with the male satisfaction and pride of knowing he’d just introduced her to her first sexual experience.
‘What happened?’ she whispered as he laid her down in the middle of the huge bamboo four-poster bed, with its voile curtains and soft, cool linen sheets.
‘You just experienced your first orgasm,’ he said, slipping next to her onto the bed, his smile as arrogant as it was possessive.
‘Oh.’ Slowly Nena recouped her breath. Then suddenly she became aware that Ramon was about to remove his pyjama pants. Exercising every ounce of will-power, she sat up and brushed her hair aside, little aware of how tantalising she looked in the glow of the soft bedside lamps.
‘Ramon, what are you doing?’
‘Nena, you may be young and a virgin,’ he said with a touch of humour in his flashing brown eyes, ‘but I think you know very well what I’m doing. It’s time I made you truly my wife.’
‘No. I don’t want to.’ She moved back against the pillows and drew her legs up under her nightdress.
‘Nena, after what just happened out there that is a ridiculous statement,’ he said with a low, husky laugh that left her once again prey to the rush of heat that had assailed her previously. ‘You want me just as much as I want you,’ he said softly, trailing his long dark fingers from her throat to her breast, where he stopped just above her nipple and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to start all over again,’ he said with quiet, yet arrogant assurance, ‘and I’ll leave you alone.’
Nena tried to think straight, to resist the tantalising caress that was fuzzing her brain. ‘I don’t—I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can, mi linda, of course you can. Remember, I’m your husband. You can do anything with me, Nena, anything at all. I’ll show you, take you places you’ve never dreamed of.’
Her better judgement now fading into complete oblivion, Nena let her head sink back against the pillow with a long sigh.
‘No,’ Ramon said in an authoritative tone, ‘don’t run away from me. I want you here with me. I want you to know who is loving you and when. Nena, take off your nightgown.’
Again she tried to shy away. ‘No. Please, Ramon, I—’
‘Nena, might I remind you that a few days ago you vowed to obey me? I would hate to see you not keep your word.’ His eyes pinned her now, allowing no room for flight. ‘I am your husband, the man who has the right to see you, to possess you.’
It was a command, she realised, wishing she had the will-power to refuse him. Part of her hated him for what he was doing; the other submitted with intense female surrender. After all, he was right. The vow to obey had been part of their marriage ceremony; she had pronounced the words. But she hadn’t thought of their meaning. Now, seeing him rise and stand over her next to the bed, his face unsmiling as his gaze held hers, she knew that the words were for real.
Slowly, very slowly, Nena slipped to the edge of the bed.
‘Stand up,’ he ordered softly.
Nena did as he bade her—standing, cheeks flushed, clenching her hands, as gently but firmly he pulled up the nightdress and slipped it over her head, leaving her before him with nothing but the long strands of her silky tawny mane for protection.
Then Ramon took a step back and feasted his eyes on her. ‘You’re beautiful—lovely,’ he whispered hoarsely, letting his fingers trail over her, past her breast on down to her belly.
Despite her embarrassment Nena experienced another mind-wrenching tingle rush through her when his fingers reached further. All at once she realised she felt damp and hot, filled with a desire so great she could barely control the moan that escaped her when his fingers fondled her soft mound of golden curls, then slipped between her legs, probing further as he drew her close with his other arm.
And all at once she wanted to experience his skin on hers, to know what he felt like, and it was she who began tugging at the tie of his pyjamas.
‘Not so fast, cariña,’ he murmured, close to her ear. ‘There’s time for that.’
‘No,’ she muttered, gasping as he touched a place deep inside her, provoking thrusts of pain and joy, leaving her increasingly ragged and wanting. ‘You saw me. Now I want to see you.’
Ramon let out a low, satisfied laugh. ‘Very well, my darling.’ With that he continued caressing her with one hand while with the other he helped her remove the offending garments.
Soon they were standing naked, facing one another. Then Ramon gently removed his fingers and looked into her eyes. ‘I am your husband, Nena, don’t be ashamed.’
And the amazing thing, Nena realised, baffled, was that she wasn’t. In fact she felt a strange new power take hold as he looked at her, and—tentatively at first—she allowed herself to look at his body, feast on his strong, bronzed and muscled limbs, his broad yet lean torso, then on down.
Firmly Ramon slipped his hand over hers and drew it towards him. ‘I want you to feel me as I’ve felt you,’ he said, drawing her back into his arms and gently placing her hand upon him, strangely enchanted to know that this was the first time she’d been with a man, that he was the first to teach her. Another sudden rush of possessiveness and then something far stronger hit him with utter surprise: for all at once he hoped he would be the last.
It was a strange, overwhelming feeling that left him more emotionally touched than he could have believed possible. Now, as his arms slipped around her once more and he drew her back onto the bed, he tried to reason with himself, keep up the control. But he couldn’t—could think only of reaching further, knowing her thoroughly, and he kissed her, not gently, as before, but with a new, surging passion that eradicated all trace of hesitation. The latter was replaced by a passionate, gnawing hunger that he’d rarely known but that needed to be assuaged.
Nena held her breath and let her feelings take over, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he would hear it, delighting in the hard wall of muscled male body cleaving against her. And something more, something much more troubling yet stirring, a primal need, grew inside her that she knew she had to pursue, as Ramon began a thorough and delicious investigation of her body, starting with feathery kisses at her throat that descended, further and further, taunting her aching swollen nipples, then moved on down until he reached her core.
Nena let out a gasp as his tongue flicked over the little nub of sensitive flesh she’d been unaware existed until this very moment. Seconds later she was moaning, writhing, unable to restrain the need to rake her fingers through his hair.
‘Ramon!’ she cried, and shattered again into a myriad of indescribable sensations, only to end up curled in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and soothed her gently as every pulse in her body beat wildly.
And there was more to come.
Just as Nena was beginning to steady herself Ramon slipped his fingers between her thighs once more and probed, slowly, feeling the soft liquid honey, making sure she was ready for what was to happen next.
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Fiona Hood-Stewart
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Ramon Villalba is handsome, gifted and wealthy. So why would he want a bride of convenience?Nena Carvajal is an exquisitely beautiful young heiress who needs protecting from fortune hunters. It would be no hardship for Ramon to enjoy the pleasures of an arranged marriage with her. Ramon is confident he can tame his headstrong virgin wife. But Nena had expected to marry for love…