Книга - Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO: Honour-Bound Groom

Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO: Honour-Bound Groom
Maureen Child

Yvonne Lindsay


Honour-Bound Groom Alexander Del Castillo was betrothed from childhood – his future held a wife not of his own choosing. Thankfully bride-to-be Loren Dubois was suited for her place at his side – and in his bed. But the CEO doesn’t expect his beautiful bride to get under his skin… Cinderella & the CEO Tanner King wanted Ivy’s farm shut down so he could have his peace and quiet. He had the money and power to do it, too. So Ivy had only one option – to try and tame him! Which meant Tanner found himself saddled with a gorgeous housekeeper he couldn’t keep his mind – or hands – off.










Honour-Bound Groom

Yvonne Lindsay



Cinderella & the CEO

Maureen Child










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Honour-Bound Groom

Yvonne Lindsay




His lips were only millimetres from hers. Already he could feel her breath against him.

“Alex, wait!”

He drew in a shuddering breath, constraining his desire.

“Don’t worry, Loren. I will make tonight one you will never forget.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, pulling out of his arms. “It’s about us. Our marriage.”

“Us?”

What was she talking about? They were married.

Tonight would see the consummation of that marriage.

“Yes, Alex, us. I love you. I’ve always loved you one way or another. And even knowing you don’t love me, I agreed to marry you in part because of my feelings for you, but also to honour my father, and his promise to yours.” Her eyes glistened in the candlelight with unshed tears. “Can you honestly tell me that you have done the same?”


Dear Reader,

When this trilogy first started to grow in my mind I really let my imagination wander. Initially this was going to be a royal trilogy, because doesn’t everyone love a royal? Well, after a little gentle guidance from my editor at the time, I was persuaded away from the over-the-top fairy-tale aspects of the stories I’d initially outlined and my mind spun off on another tangent. A wealthy family bound by a three-hundred-year-old legend and a curse, and living on a totally fictional Mediterranean island called Isla Sagrado. Just goes to show that all those years of daydreaming in class (and my school reports will support this) were worthwhile after all.

So here we have it. Book No. 1 of Wed At Any Price—Alexander and Loren’s story. My working title for this was The Spaniard’s Honour Bride, which kept me focused on the deep sense of honour Alex has in his duty to the people of his country and to his family. Of course, his bride was a girl promised to him virtually from the cradle and who has loved him her whole life. The challenge of bringing them together and keeping them together was great grist for this writer’s mill.

I hope you enjoy Honour-Bound Groom and that you look forward to the next instalment in the trilogy, Stand-In Bride’s Seduction, where Alex’s brother, Reynard, meets his match and learns that love is not all about appearances.

Happy reading and very best wishes,

Yvonne Lindsay




About the Author


New Zealand-born to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two surprisingly amenable teenagers, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com.


This book is dedicated to all my wonderful readers,

who make it possible for me to keep writing books.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.




Prologue


Isla Sagrado, three months ago …

“Abuelo is losing his marbles. He talked again of the curse today.”

Alexander del Castillo leaned back in the deep and comfortable dark leather chair and gave his brother, Reynard, a chastising look.

“Our grandfather is not going mad, he is merely growing old. And he worries—for all of us.” Alex’s gaze encompassed his youngest brother, Benedict, also. “We have to do something about it—something drastic—and soon. This negative publicity about the curse is not just affecting him, it’s affecting business, too.”

“That’s true. Revenue at the winery is down this quarter. More than anticipated,” Benedict agreed, reaching for his glass of del Castillo Tempranillo and taking a sip. “It certainly isn’t the quality of the wine that’s doing it, if I say so myself.”

“Put your ego back where it belongs and focus, would you?” Alex growled. “This is serious. Reynard, you’re our head of publicity, what can we do for the family as a whole that will see talk about this stupid curse laid to rest once and for all?”

Reynard cast him a look of disbelief. “You actually want to lend credence to the curse?”

“If it means we can get things on an even keel again. We owe it to Abuelo, if not to ourselves. If we’d been more traditional in our ways then the issue would probably not have arisen.”

“The del Castillos have never been renowned for their traditional outlook, mi hermano,” Reynard pointed out with a deprecating grin.

“And look where that has put us,” Alex argued. “Three hundred years and the governess’s curse would still appear to be upon us. Whether you believe in it or not, according to the legend, we’re it—the last generation. If we don’t get things right, the entire nation—including our grandfather—believes it will be the end of the del Castillo family. Do you want that on your conscience?” He stared his younger brother down before flicking his gaze to Benedict. “Do you?”

Reynard shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief. He seemed stunned that his eldest brother had joined their grandfather in the crazy belief that an age-old legend could be based in truth. And more, that it could be responsible for affecting their prosperity, indeed, threatening their very lives today.

Alex understood Reynard’s skepticism. But what choice did they have? As long as the locals believed in the curse, bad publicity would affect the way the del Castillo family could do business. And as long as Abuelo believed, the paths he and his brothers chose could make or break the happiness of the man who had raised them all.

“No, Alex.” Reynard sighed. “I do not want to be responsible for our family’s demise any more than you do.”

“So what do we do about it?” Benedict challenged with a humorless laugh. “It’s not as if we can suddenly drum up loving brides so we can marry and live happily ever after.”

“That’s it!” Reynard declared with a shouted laugh and pushed himself up and out of his seat.

His abrupt movement and shout unsettled the dogs sleeping in front of the fire, sending them barking around his feet. A clipped command from Alex made them slink back to their rug and assume their drowsing state.

“That’s what we need to do. It’ll be a publicity exercise such as Isla Sagrado has never seen before.”

“And you think Abuelo is losing his marbles?” Benedict asked and took another sip of his wine.

“No,” Alex said, excitement beginning to build in his chest. “He’s right. That’s exactly what we must do. Remember the curse. If the ninth generation does not live by our family motto of honor, truth and love, in life and in marriage, the del Castillo name will die out forever. If we each marry and have families, well, for a start that will show the curse for the falsehood it is. People will put their trust in our name again rather than in fear and superstition.”

Reynard sat back down. “You’re serious,” he said flatly.

“Never more so,” Alex answered.

Whether he’d been kidding around or not, Reynard had hit on the very thing that would not only settle their grandfather’s concerns but would be a massive boost to the del Castillo name. Its ongoing effect on the people of Isla Sagrado would increase prosperity across the entire island nation.

While Isla Sagrado was a minor republic in the Mediterranean, the del Castillo family had long held a large amount of influence on the island’s affairs, whether commercial or political. As the family had prospered so, by natural process, did the people of Isla Sagrado.

Unfortunately, the reverse was also true.

“You expect each of us to simply marry the right women and start families and then, hey, presto, all will be well?” Reynard’s voice was saturated with disbelief.

“Exactly. How hard can it be?” Alex got up and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good-looking guy. I’m sure you have plenty of candidates.”

Benedict snorted. “Not the kind he’d bring home to Abuelo, I’d wager.”

“You can talk,” Reynard retorted. “You’re too busy racing that new Aston Martin of yours along the cliff road to slow down long enough for a woman to catch you.”

Alex walked over to the fireplace and leaned against the massive stone mantel that framed it. Carved from island rock, the hearth had seen generation after generation of his family sprawl in front of its warmth. He and his brothers would not be the last to do so. Not if he had anything to do with it.

“All joking aside, are you willing to at least try?” he asked, his eyes flicking from one brother to the next.

Of the two, Benedict looked most like him. In fact some days he felt as if he was looking into a mirror when he saw his brother’s black hair and black-brown eyes. Reynard took after their French mother. Finer featured, perhaps more dramatic with his dark coloring because of it. Female attention had never been an issue for any of them, even from before they’d hit puberty. In fact, with only three years in total separating the brothers, they’d been pretty darn competitive in their playboy bachelorhood. They were all in their early thirties now and had mostly left that phase behind but the reputation still lingered, and it was that very lifestyle that had brought them to this current conundrum.

“It’s all right for you, you’re already engaged to your childhood sweetheart,” Benedict teased him with a smirk, clearly still not prepared to take the matter seriously on any level.

“Hardly my sweetheart since she was only a baby when we were betrothed.”

Twenty-five years ago their father had saved his best friend, Francois Dubois, from drowning after the latter had accepted a dare from their father to swim off Isla Sagrado’s most dangerous beach below the castillo. In gratitude, Dubois had promised the hand of his infant daughter, Loren, to Raphael del Castillo’s eldest son. In a modern society no one but the two men had ever really given any credence to the pledge. But the two men were old-school all the way back down their ancestral lines and they’d taken the matter very seriously indeed.

Alex had barely paid any attention at the time, despite the fact that, virtually from the day she could walk, Loren had followed him around like a faithful puppy. He’d been grateful when her parents had divorced and her mother had taken her away to New Zealand, clear on the other side of the world, when Loren had been fifteen. Twenty-three years old at the time, he’d found it unsettling to have a gangling, underdeveloped teenager telling his girlfriends that she was his fiancée.

Since then, the engagement had been a convenient excuse to avoid the state of matrimony. Until now, he hadn’t even considered marriage, and certainly not in the context of Francois Dubois’s promise to Raphael del Castillo. But what better way to continue to uphold his family’s honor and position on Isla Sagrado than to fulfill the terms of the spoken contract between two best friends? He could see the headlines already. It would be a media coup that would not only benefit the del Castillo business empire, but the whole of Isla Sagrado, as well.

He thought briefly of the dalliance he’d begun with his personal assistant. He didn’t normally choose to mix business with pleasure, especially from within his own immediate work environment. But Giselle’s persistent attempts to seduce him had been entertaining and—once he’d given in—very satisfying.

A curvaceous blonde, Giselle enjoyed being escorted to the high spots of Sagradan society and entertainment. Certainly she was beautiful and talented—in more ways than one—but wife material? No. They’d both known that nothing long-term would ever have come of their relationship. No doubt she’d be philosophical and he knew she was sophisticated enough to accept his explanation that their intimacy could no longer continue. In fact, he’d put a stop to it right away. He needed to create some emotional space between now and when he brought Loren back to be his bride.

Alex made a mental note to source a particularly lovely piece of jewelry to placate Giselle and turned his mind back to the only current viable option for the position of his wife.

Loren Dubois.

She was from one of the oldest families here on Isla Sagrado, and had always taken great pride in her heritage. Even though she’d been gone for ten years, he’d wager she was still Sagradan to her marrow—and as devoted to her father’s memory as she had been to the man during his lifetime. She wouldn’t hesitate to honor the commitment made all those years ago. What’s more, she’d understand what it meant to be a del Castillo bride, together with what that responsibility involved. And she would now be at the right age, and maturity, to marry and to help put the governess’s curse to rest once and for all.

Alex smirked at his brothers. “So, that’s me settled. What are you two going to do?”

“You have to be kidding us, right?” Benedict looked askance at Alex, as if he’d suddenly announced his intention to enter a monastery. “Lanky little Loren Dubois?”

“Maybe she’s changed.” Alex shrugged. It mattered little how she looked. Marrying her was his duty—his desires weren’t relevant. With any luck she’d be pregnant with his child within the first year of their marriage and too busy thereafter with the baby to put any real demands upon him.

“But still, why would you choose her when you could have any woman alive as your wife?” Reynard entered the fray.

Alex sighed. Between them his brothers were as tenacious as a pair of wolves after a wounded beast.

“Why not? Marrying her will serve multiple purposes. Not only will it honor an agreement made between our late father and his friend, but it will also help relieve Abuelo’s concerns. And that’s not even mentioning what it will do for our public image. Let’s face it. The media will lap it up, especially if you leak the original betrothal story as an appetizer. They’ll make it read like a fairy tale.”

“And what of Abuelo’s concerns about the next generation?” Reynard asked, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think your bride will be so happy to ensure our longevity? For all you know she may already be married.”

“She’s not.”

“And you know this because?”

“Abuelo had an investigator keep tabs on her after Francois died. Since his stroke last year, the reports have come to me.”

“So you’re serious about it then. You’re really going to go through with a twenty-five-year-old engagement to a woman you don’t even know anymore.”

“I have to, unless you have any better suggestions. Rey?”

Reynard shook his head. A short sharp movement of his head that bore witness to the frustration they all felt at the position they were in.

“And you, Ben? Anything you can think of that will save our name and our fortunes, not to mention make Abuelo’s final years with us happier ones?”

“You know there is nothing else,” Benedict replied, resignation to their combined fates painting stark lines on his face.

“Then, my brothers, I’d like to propose a toast. To each of us and to the future del Castillo brides.”




One


New Zealand, now …

“I have come to discuss the terms of our fathers’ agreement. It is time we marry.”

From the second his sleek gray Eurocopter had landed on the helipad close to the house she’d wondered what had brought Alexander del Castillo here. Now she knew. She could hardly believe it.

Loren Dubois studied the tall near stranger commanding the space of her mother’s formal sitting room. Her eyes drank in the sight of him after so long. Dressed all in black, his dark hair pushed back from his forehead and his brown-black eyes fixed firmly on her face, he should have been intimidating but instead she wondered whether she’d conjured up an age-old dream.

Marry? Her heart jumped erratically in her chest and she tried to force it back to its usual slow and steady rhythm. Years ago, she’d have leaped at the opportunity, but now? With age had come caution. She wasn’t a love-struck teenager anymore. She’d seen firsthand what an unhappy alliance could do to a couple, as her parents’ tempestuous marriage had attested. She and Alexander del Castillo didn’t even know one another anymore. Yet, for some reason, the way he’d proposed marriage—in typical autocratic del Castillo fashion—made her go weak at the knees.

She gave herself a swift reality check. Who was she kidding? He hadn’t proposed. He’d flat out told her, as if there was no question that she’d accept. It didn’t help that every fiber in her body wanted to do just that.

Wait, she reminded herself. Slow down.

It had been ten years since she’d laid eyes on him. Ten years since her fifteen-year-old heart had been broken and she’d been dragged to New Zealand by her mother after the divorce. A long time not to hear from someone by any standards, let alone from the man she had been betrothed to from the cradle.

Even so, a part of her still wanted to leap at the suggestion. Loren took a steadying breath. Although their engagement had always been the stuff of fairy tales, she was determined to stay firmly rooted in the present.

“Marry?” she responded, drawing her chin up slightly as if it could give her that extra height and lessen Alex’s dominance over her. “You arrive here with no prior warning—in fact, no contact at all since I left Isla Sagrado—and the first thing you say to me is that it’s time we marry? That’s a little precipitate, wouldn’t you say?”

“Our betrothal has stood for a quarter of a century. I would say our marriage is past due.”

There it was—that delicious hint of accent in his voice, characteristic of the Spanish-Franco blend of nationalities of their home country, Isla Sagrado. It was an accent she’d long since diluted with her time in New Zealand, yet from his lips the sound was like velvet stroking bare skin. Her body responded to the timbre of it even as she fought down the wave of longing that spiraled from her core. Had she missed him that much?

Of course she had. That much and more. But she was grown-up now. A woman, not a child, nor a displaced bratty teen. Loren attempted to inject a fine thread of steel into her voice.

“A betrothal that no one seriously expected to be fulfilled, surely.”

Somehow she had to show him she wouldn’t be such a pushover. In all the time since she’d left Isla Sagrado he’d made no contact whatsoever. Not so much as a card at Christmas or her birthday. His indifference had hurt.

“Are you saying that your father made such a gesture lightly when he offered your hand?”

Loren laughed, the sound of it hollow even to her ears. She still missed her father with a physical ache, even though he’d been dead these past seven years. With him had gone her last link to Isla Sagrado and, she’d believed, to Alex. But now Alex was very much here and she didn’t know how to react. Stay strong, she told herself. Above all, stay strong. That’s the only way to earn the respect of a del Castillo.

“A hand that was little more than three months old when it was promised to you—you yourself were only eight,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster.

Alex moved a step toward her. She almost felt the air part to allow him passage; he had that kind of presence. Despite her inexperience with men of Alex’s caliber, it was one she responded to instinctively.

Alex had always been magnetic, but the past ten years had seen a new maturity settle on his broad shoulders, together with a stronger and more determined line to his jaw. He looked older than the thirty-three years she knew him to be. Older and harder. Certainly not a man who took “no” for an answer.

“I’m not eight anymore. And you—” he paused and ran his eyes over her body “—you are most certainly no longer a child.”

Loren’s skin flared hot, as if he’d touched her with more than a glance. As if his long strong fingers had stroked her face, her throat, her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten and strain against the practical cotton of her bra. And the longing within her grew harder to resist.

“Alex,” she said, her voice slightly breathless, “you don’t know me anymore. I don’t know you. For all you know I’m already married.”

“I know you are not.”

He knew? What else did he know about her, she wondered. Had he somehow kept tabs on her all this time?

“It would be foolish for us to marry. We don’t even know if we’re compatible.”

“We have the rest of our lives to learn the details of what we can do to please one another.”

Alex’s voice was a low murmur and his eyes dropped to her mouth. Please or pleasure? Which had he really meant, she thought, as she struggled against the urge to moisten her lips with her tongue. The longing sharpened and drew into a tight coil deep within her. Loren fought back a moan—the pure, visceral response to his mere gaze shocking her with its intensity.

Her lack of experience with men had never bothered her before this moment. All her dealings with guests and male staff here at her mother’s family’s sheep and cattle station had been platonic and she’d preferred it that way. It had been difficult enough to settle into the isolation of the farm without the complications of a relationship with someone directly involved with the day-to-day workings of the place. Besides, anything else would have felt like a betrayal—to her father’s promise and to the lingering feelings she still bore for Alex.

Now, that lack of experience had come back to haunt her. A man like Alex del Castillo would certainly expect more than what she had to offer. Would demand it.

In her younger years, she’d adored Alex with the kind of hero worship that a child had for an attractive older person—and, oh yes, he’d been attractive from the moment he’d drawn his first breath. She’d seen the photos to prove it. She’d believed that adoration had deepened into love, love not dimmed by Alex’s vague tolerance of the scrawny kid who followed him like a shadow around the castillo that had been his family home for centuries.

For as long as she could remember she’d plagued her father to repeat the story of how Alex’s dad, Raphael, had saved him from drowning on the beach below the castillo after a crazy dare between friends had almost turned deadly. And she’d hung on his every word as he’d reached the part where, in deepest gratitude, he’d promised his newborn daughter in marriage to Raphael’s eldest son.

But her childish dreams of happily ever after with her fairy-tale prince were quite different from the virile, masculine reality of the man in front of her. Every move he made showed that Alex had a degree of sensual knowledge and experience she couldn’t even begin to imagine, much less match. It was exciting and intimidating all at once. Was she already in over her head?

“Besides,” Alex said, his voice still low, pitched only for her ears, “it is time now that I marry and who better than the woman to whom I’ve been affianced all her life?”

Alex’s dark brown eyes bored into hers, daring her to challenge him. But, surprisingly, beneath the dare, Loren saw something else reflected in their depths.

While he’d appeared so strong and self-assured from the moment he’d alighted from the helicopter and strode toward their sprawling schist rock home nestled near the base of the Southern Alps, there was now a hint of uncertainty in his gaze. As if he expected some resistance from Loren to the idea that they fulfill the bargain struck between two best friends so long ago.

The scent of his cologne wove softly around her like an ancient spell, invading her senses and scrambling her mind. Rational thought flew out the window as he took another step closer to her, as his hand reached for her chin and tilted her face up to his.

His fingers were gentle against her skin. Her breath stopped in her chest. He bent his head, bringing his lips to hers—their pressure warm, tender, coaxing. His hand slid from her jaw to cup the back of her neck.

Loren’s head spun as she parted her lips beneath his and tasted the intimacy of his tongue as it gently swept the soft tissue of her lower lip. A groan rippled from her throat and suddenly she was in his arms, her body aligned tightly against the hard planes of his chest, his abdomen. Her arms curved around him, snaking under the fine wool of his jacket and across the silk of his shirt. The heat of his skin through the finely woven fabric seared her hands. She pressed her fingertips firmly into the strong muscles of his back.

She fit into the shape of his body as though she had indeed been born to the role, and as his lips plundered hers, all she could, or wanted to, think of was how it felt to finally be in his arms. Not a single one of her frustrated teenage fantasies had lived up to the reality.

This was more, so much more than she’d ever dreamed. The strength and power of him in her arms was overwhelming and she clung to him with the longing of a lifetime finally given substance. It barely seemed real but the solid presence of him, his skillful mouth, the sensation of his fingertips massaging the base of her scalp, all combined to be very, very real indeed.

Every nerve in her body was alive, gloriously alive, and begging for more. She’d never experienced such a depth of passion with another man and was certain she never would.

She knew to her very soul that this connection, this instant magnetic pull between them, was meant to be forever, just as their fathers had preordained. And, with this one embrace, she knew she wanted it all.

In the distance she heard the front door slam, its heavy wooden thud echoing down the hardwood floor of the main hallway. Reluctantly she loosened her grip and forced herself to draw away from Alex’s embrace. The instant she did so, she almost sobbed. The loss of his warmth, his touch, was indescribable. Loren fought free of the sensual fog that infused her mind as her mother swept into the sitting room, the staccato tap of her swift footfall fading into silence as she stepped onto the heirloom Aubusson carpet.

“Loren! Whose is that helicopter out on the pad? Oh!” she said, displeasure twisting her patrician features. “It’s you.”

It was hardly the kind of welcome Naomi Simpson generally prided herself on, Loren noted with a trace of acerbity. As her mother’s gaze darted between her and Alex, Loren fought not to smooth her hair and clothing, drawing instead on every ounce of her mother’s training to appear aloof and in control—at least as far as her hammering heartbeat rendered her capable.

Alex remained close at her side, one arm now casually slung about her waist, his fingers gently stroking the top of her hip through her red merino wool sweater. Tiny sizzling tendrils of electricity feathered along her skin at his lazy touch and she found it hard to focus.

Her mother had no such difficulty.

“Loren? Would you care to explain?”

There was no entreaty in Naomi’s words. Even phrased as a question she demanded answers and, if the frozen look of fury on her face was any indicator, she wanted those answers right now.

“Mother, you remember Alex del Castillo, don’t you?”

“I do. I can’t say I ever expected to see you here. I’d hoped we were completely shot of Isla Sagrado the day we left.”

With typical Gallic charm Alex nodded toward Naomi. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Madame Dubois.”

“I wish I could say the same. And, just for the record, I go by Simpson now,” Naomi answered. “Why are you here?”

“Mother!” Loren protested.

“Don’t worry, Loren,” Alex murmured into her ear. “I will deal with your mother.”

The warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear sent a tiny tremor down her spine. He exaggerated the two syllables of her name, emphasizing the last to give it an exotic resonance totally at odds with her everyday existence here on the station.

“Nobody needs to deal with anyone,” she replied. She cast a stern look at Naomi. “Mother, you are forgetting your manners. That is not the way we treat guests here at the Simpson Station.”

“Guests are one thing. Ghosts from the past are quite another.”

Naomi threw herself into the nearest chair and glared at Alex.

“I’m sorry, Alex, she’s not normally so rude,” Loren apologized. “Perhaps you should go.”

“I think not. There are matters that need to be discussed,” Alex answered, his attention firmly on Naomi’s bristling presence.

He guided Loren to one of the richly upholstered sofas before settling his long frame at her side. A shiver of awareness rippled through her as his presence imprinted along her body.

“I believe you know why I’m here. It is time for Loren and me to fulfill our fathers’ promise to one another.”

Naomi’s snort was at total odds with her elegant appearance.

“Promise? More like the ramblings of two crazy men who should have known better. No one in the developed world would sanction such an archaic suggestion.”

“Archaic or not, I feel bound to honor my father’s wish. Much as I imagine Loren does, also.”

Loren felt that shiver again as Alex responded to her mother’s derision. Naomi wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to be contradicted. She ruled the station with an iron fist and a razor-sharp mind and was both respected and feared by her staff. Despite her designer chic wardrobe and her petite frame she was every bit as capable as any one of the staff here. A fact she had proven over and over again. But she was very much accustomed to being in charge, with her decrees accepted without question. The problem was, Alex was used to that, too. This confrontation could get messy, especially once her mother realized whose side Loren was on.

“Loren.” Her mother turned to her with a stiff smile on her carefully tinted lips. “Surely you’re not going to take this seriously. You have a life here, a job, responsibilities. Why on earth would you even consider this outrageous plan?”

Why indeed, Loren wondered as she looked around her. Yes, she had a life here. A life she’d been dragged to, kicking and screaming and full of sullen teenage pout. She’d never wanted to live with her mother but her father hadn’t contested his wife’s petition for full custody of their only child. Loren had later realized that had in part been because he’d never believed Naomi would actually go through with the divorce and relocate to the opposite side of the world. But his apparent indifference had hurt at the time and she’d arrived here at the Simpson Station feeling as though her entire world had been ripped apart. With that kind of beginning, it was hardly surprising that she’d learned to accept her place at the station, but she’d never learned to love it.

And as for her work here and her responsibilities? Well, it would only be Naomi who missed her, and then only for as long as it took to browbeat some other assistant into docile submission. No. Loren had nothing to hold her here. She and Naomi had never enjoyed the kind of mother-daughter relationship that Loren knew others had and she had learned very early that it was easier to accede to her mother’s wishes than fight for her own. On Isla Sagrado, Loren had been almost solely her father’s child, and Loren had always believed her mother had taken her from the island more as a punishment for Francois Dubois than out of any kind of maternal instinct.

She’d missed Isla Sagrado every day of the past ten years. Of course that pain of loss, the wrench of being repatriated, had dimmed a little over time, but it was still as real now as the man seated alongside her.

Seeing him again was as if he’d brought with him the heat and splendor and lush extravagance of Isla Sagrado. Not to mention the promise of the revival of a passion for living that had lain dormant within her since she’d left the country of her birth.

Yes, her initial reaction to Alex’s arrival here had been shock and disbelief. But it was clear he meant what he said. Why else would he have traveled half the world to come and see her?

Thoughts spun through her mind with lightning-fast speed. Her earlier objections, as weak as they were, had come reflexively—a direct result of surprise at the manifestation of the man who’d been a part of her dreams her entire life. She’d wanted—no, she’d needed—to hear him refute her doubts to her face. To tell her they belonged together as she’d always imagined, as she’d pretty much lost hope of imagining.

Now she knew what it was like to be in his arms, to feel truly alive for the first time she could remember, there was no way she was going to turn her back on her destiny with the only man she’d ever loved.

“Why would I consider marrying Alex? I would have thought that was quite straightforward,” Loren responded with as much aplomb as she could muster under her mother’s piercing gaze. “Inasmuch as Alex wishes to honor his father, so do I mine. I’ve always understood that this would be my future, Mother.” She turned her face to look at Alex. “And it’s what I’ve always wanted. I would be honored to be Alex’s wife.”

“How on earth could you know what you want?” Naomi demanded, pushing up out of her chair and pacing back and forth between them. “You’ve barely been off the station since we’ve lived here. You haven’t experienced the world, other men, anything!”

“Is that what it really takes to make a person happy? Are you truly happy?” Loren held her mother’s gaze as her questions unerringly hit their mark. Naomi gaped for a moment, clearly surprised to hear Loren fight back. But even Naomi couldn’t deny the truth of what Loren had said.

Naomi’s affairs were legend in New Zealand—her power and beauty made for a magnetically lethal combination—and yet, even though many had tried, no man had captured her heart. Loren knew she didn’t want that life for herself.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you—your future, your life. Don’t throw it away on a pledge made before you can even remember. You are worth so much more than that, Loren.”

Loren felt the walls, her mother’s walls, closing in around her and she pushed them back just as hard.

“Exactly, Mother.” Loren sat up straighter, confidence coming from Alex’s warmth against her side—confidence to speak her mind at last and say the words she’d locked down deep inside for too long. “I stayed here because I had nothing else to do. Growing up on Isla Sagrado, I believed I had a purpose, a direction. When you and Papa split up I lost that. You took me away from the only future I ever wanted.”

“You were just a child—”

“Maybe then, yes. But I’m not a child any longer. We both know I’ve been marking time these past few years. You know my heart isn’t in the station like yours is. You always felt displaced on Isla Sagrado. That’s how I feel here. I want to go back.

“As you so correctly pointed out, we are talking about my future and my life—and I want that to be on Isla Sagrado, with Alex.”

He could hardly believe it had been so easy. Alex savored the exhilaration that surged within him as Loren’s words hung on the air between mother and daughter.

His body continued to throb in reaction to the slightly built woman at his side, remembering how it felt to be pressed against her far more intimately. Yes, kissing her had been a risk, but he’d built his formidable business reputation on taking big risks and reaping even bigger rewards. This had definitely been a risk worth taking.

Just one look at her had been enough to prove the information he’d been given about her sheltered lifestyle. She appeared as untouched and protected as she’d been the day she left Isla Sagrado. But beneath that inexperienced exterior beat a sensual heart. Wakening that side of her would be a delight and would make the whole process of providing Abuelo with a great-grandchild, as proof the curse did not exist and laying it to rest once and for all, an absolute pleasure.

Alex tilted his head slightly to watch Loren as her mother began a tirade of reasons why she should not return to Isla Sagrado. He wasn’t worried about Naomi’s arguments. If there was one thing he remembered most clearly about Loren as a child it was that despite her quiet attitude, there was no matching her tenacity once she had made up her mind. The vast number of his girlfriends she’d scared off being a case in point.

Instead of following the argument, he took the time to fully take in the woman who would be his wife. Her long black hair, scraped back in a utilitarian ponytail, showcased the delicate structure of her face. And what a face—the child’s features he remembered had matured into those of a beautiful young woman’s. Her brows were still strong and delicately arched but the eyes beneath them, dark brown like his own, glowed with an inner fire, and her lips were full and lush. Fuller, perhaps, because of their recent kiss, and certainly something he wanted to taste and savor again.

Where had that gawky kid who’d followed him around incessantly disappeared to? In place of the slightly older version of her that he’d expected, he’d discovered a woman who, while she had every appearance of fragility and a vulnerable air about her that aroused his protective instincts, somehow had managed to develop a backbone of pure steel.

He was reminded of Audrey Hepburn as he looked at her now. The gamine features, matured into beauty—the delicate bone structure, intensely feminine. Something else roared to life from deep inside of him. Something ancient, almost feral. She was his—betrothed to him as a matter of honor between friends, but his nonetheless. And she’d stay that way. Nothing Naomi could say would ever change that.




Two


Despite the luxurious trappings of first class, Loren had been unable to sleep during the long journey from New Zealand. After a day and a half of travel and changeovers she felt weary and more than a little disoriented as she made her way through Sagradan customs and immigration. Nothing about the airport was familiar to her anymore. Still, she supposed as she hefted her cases from the luggage carousel and onto a trolley, it was only natural that change had come to Isla Sagrado in the ten years she’d been gone.

Even so, a pang for the old place she’d left behind lodged behind her heart. Loren shook her head. She was being fanciful if she expected to be able to walk back into her old life as if she’d never left. So much had changed. Her father was gone, her mother was now half a world away and here she was—engaged and preparing to reunite with her fiancé of only a few weeks.

It didn’t seem real, Loren admitted to herself—and not for the first time. Everything had moved so fast from the moment she’d told her mother she was returning to the home of her birth. Well, at least once Naomi had recognized that she could not sway her only child’s stubborn insistence that she would be marrying Alexander del Castillo.

Alex had taken control once her mother had ceased her objections and washed her hands of the matter, smoothing the way toward having Loren’s expired Sagradan passport renewed and booking her flights to Isla Sagrado. Loren hadn’t had to lift so much as a finger. Well used to taking care of such details for both her mother and for the overseas guests who visited the massive working sheep and cattle station, it had been a pleasure to have someone else take care of her for a change.

Once he’d had everything organized to his satisfaction, Alex had departed, but not before arranging a private dinner for just the two of them, off the station. They’d choppered to Queenstown, where they’d visited a restaurant on the edge of Lake Wakatipu. The late autumn evening had been clear and beautiful and the restaurant every bit as romantic as Loren had ever dreamed.

By the time they’d returned to the station she knew she was totally and irrevocably in love with him. Not the innocent adoration of a child nor the all-absorbing puppy love of an adolescent, but the deeper knowledge that, no matter what, he was her mate in this lifetime and any other.

He’d been solicitous and attentive all night and, before walking her to her small suite of rooms in the main house at the station, he’d kissed her again. Not with the heated, overwhelming rush of emotion that consumed her the day he’d arrived, but with a gentle, sure promise of greater things to come. Her body had quivered in response, eager to discover the depths of his silent promise right there, right then. But Alex had backed off, cupped her cheek with one warm strong hand, and told her he wanted to wait until their wedding night—it would make their union more special, more intimate.

It had only made her love him more and had served to leave her fraught with nerves the entire journey to Isla Sagrado. Nerves that now left her giddy with exhaustion and made battling the broken wheel on her luggage cart all the more taxing. Fighting the way the thing wanted to veer to the left all the time, Loren paid little attention to the sudden silence in the arrival hall as she came through the security doors after clearing customs.

A silence that was suddenly and overwhelmingly broken by the flash of camera bulbs and a barrage of questions flung at her from all directions and in at least three different languages.

One voice broke over all the rest to ask in Spanish, Isla Sagrado’s dominant language, “Is it true you’re here to marry Alexander del Castillo and break the curse?”

Loren blinked in surprise toward the man, even as a multitude of others around him continued with their own questions.

A movement at her side distracted her from answering. A tall and stunningly beautiful woman, wearing a startling red dress, hooked an arm around her and leaned forward, her long, honey-blond hair brushing Loren’s arm like a swathe of silk.

“Don’t answer them. Just smile and keep walking.

I’m Giselle, Alex’s personal assistant. I’m here to collect you,” she murmured in a French-accented voice that was very un-assistantlike. Her emphasis on the word personal hinted strongly at things Loren herself had no experience of.

“Alex isn’t here?” Loren blinked to fight back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes as sharp points of disappointment cut through her.

Believing he’d be here to welcome her home at the end of her journey had been what had kept her going these past few hours. Now, she fought to keep her slender shoulders squared and her sagging spine upright. Struggled to keep placing one foot in front of the other.

Giselle put her free hand on the handle of the luggage cart and directed it, and Loren, toward the exit. Airport security had miraculously cleared a path and beckoned them toward the waiting limousine at the curbside.

“If he’d have come, the media circus would have been worse and we’d never have cleared the airport,” Giselle said in her husky voice. “Besides, he’s a very busy man.”

Giselle’s intimation that Alex had far more important things to attend to than collecting his fiancée from the airport pierced Loren’s weariness, making her stumble slightly.

“Oh, dear,” the other woman said, tightening her hold around Loren’s waist. “You’re a clumsy little thing, aren’t you? You’ll have to improve on that, you know, or the media are going to have a field day with you.”

While Giselle’s tone was light, Loren felt the invisible slap of disapproval behind her words. But there was no chance to respond right away. They were at the car at last. There, a uniformed chauffeur, who looked more like a bodyguard than a driver, hefted her cases into the voluminous trunk of the limo as if they weighed little more than matchsticks. Once that was taken care of, Loren took the opportunity to speak.

“I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been quite a trip,” she responded as she slid over onto the broad backseat of the limousine, her voice a little sharp, earning her an equally sharp look from Giselle in return.

“Touchy, too, hmm?” Giselle narrowed her beautiful green eyes and gave Loren an assessing look. “Well, we’ll see how you measure up. Since Reynard issued the press release about Alex’s engagement, the whole drama of your father’s near drowning and him giving you away afterwards has been front-page news. Goodness knows paparazzi will be crawling all over you to find out about you.”

“I’m surprised. I thought Alex might have kept that quiet,” Loren said, frowning at the thought of having to rehash the story of her and Alex’s fathers’ actions over and over again.

“Quiet? Hardly. With the way things are here they need all the strong publicity they can get. You must remember how the island’s prosperity seems to be intrinsically linked with the del Castillos’. Whether there’s any truth to the curse or not, everyone here is lapping up the story. Promises of happily ever after and all that. Honestly, they’ve made it all sound so sweet it’s almost enough to give you cavities.” Giselle finished with a high-pitched laugh that didn’t quite ring true.

“So you don’t believe in happily ever after?”

“Sweetie,” Giselle replied with a smile stretching her generous lips into a wide curve of satisfaction, “what’s more important is if Alex believes in it. And we both know he’s far too pragmatic for that. Besides, it’s not like you two are going to have a real marriage.”

“Well, I certainly expect we’ll have a real marriage. Why else would we even bother?”

“Oh, dear, you mean he hasn’t said anything yet?”

Loren felt her already simmering temper begin to flare. “Said anything about what?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“About keeping up appearances, of course. Though perhaps he thought it would be clear. After all, if he’d had any interest in a real marriage he’d have wanted to have some say in the organization of the wedding ceremony and reception, wouldn’t he? Instead, he gave me carte blanche. But don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you have a day to remember.”

“Well, I’d like to go over the wedding details with you later on, when I’m more rested,” Loren asserted, pausing for effect. “Then I’ll more than happily take the arrangements off your hands. I’m sure you have far more important things to occupy yourself with.”

Loren chose to ignore the rest of what the woman had said. She knew she and Alex had little time before their proposed wedding date only two weeks away, but surely he hadn’t left everything to his assistant—his personal assistant, she corrected herself.

“Oh, but I have everything under control. Besides, Alex has signed off on what I’ve done already. To change anything now would only cause problems.”

The implication that Loren would bear disapproval from Alex for those problems sat very clearly between the two women. Loren took a steadying breath. She wasn’t up to this right now but she knew what Giselle was doing. She’d probably taken one look at Loren and totally underestimated her. Clearly Giselle had some kind of bond with Alex that she didn’t want to let go. Maybe she’d even harbored a notion of a relationship with him.

Whatever might have happened between Alex and Giselle before she had arrived home, Loren was his fiancée, and she’d prove she was no walkover. Her battle with her mother to come here in the first place had proven to her that she was anything but that.

“Well,” she said, injecting a firm note into her voice, “we’ll see about that once I’ve checked everything over and conferred with Alex.” At the other woman’s sharply indrawn breath she added, “It is my wedding, after all.”

Loren settled back against the soft leather upholstery and gazed out the window of the speeding limousine, wondering if she had gone too far in establishing where she stood with Giselle. Perhaps she’d been oversensitive, worn out as she was with travel. But underneath Giselle’s self-assuredness and apparent solicitude she sensed a vague but definite threat, as if she was stepping where she wasn’t fully welcome by coming back to Isla Sagrado.

She stifled a sigh. She’d expected her homecoming to be different, sure, but when push came to shove she couldn’t forget what—or more importantly, who—had brought her here.

Alex.

Just thinking about him created a swell of longing deep inside. Without thinking, she traced the outline of her lips with her fingertips, silently reliving their last kiss. If she tried hard enough she could still feel the pressure of his mouth against hers, still experience the heady joy of knowing he’d traveled to New Zealand to fulfill their fathers’ bargain—that he’d seen her and still wanted her.

Loren let her hand drop back into her lap and stared out the passenger window, searching for familiar signposts and buildings. The landscape had changed so much that Isla Sagrado hardly felt like home anymore, she thought sadly as the unfamiliar roads and buildings swept by them.

The soft trill of a cell phone startled Loren from her reveries. From the corner of her eye she saw Giselle lift a phone to her ear.

“Alex!” Giselle answered, her voice warm and sweet as honey.

Loren’s stomach clenched in excitement and she waited for Giselle to hand the phone over to her so she could speak with him herself.

“Yes, I have your future bride here in the car. I expect we’ll be at the castillo in about half an hour.” She cocked her head to one side and smiled as she listened. “Fine. Yes. I’ll let her know.”

Giselle flipped the phone shut and gave Loren a smile. “Alex sends his apologies but he won’t be able to meet with you until this evening. Business, you understand.”

If Loren wasn’t mistaken, there was a distinct hint of smugness in the other woman’s glittering emerald gaze. She swallowed her disappointment. Not for anything would she yield so far as to display even one hint of weakness, no matter how bitter the pill that Alex couldn’t spare even a few minutes to greet her on her first day here.

“Of course. I look forward to the opportunity to have a little rest and freshen up before I see him.” Loren smiled in return, summoning a bravado she hoped she could pull off. “Besides, Alex and I have the rest of our lives together. What’re a few more hours?”

Alex put down his office phone and stared out the window. It looked down and over the sprawling luxury waterfront resort that was his main concern in the management of the del Castillo financial empire. From his position, it looked beautiful and peaceful, but appearances could be deceiving.

A matter between two of his key management staff that he’d thought Giselle had settled weeks ago had flared up again today with no apparent warning. He sighed. There was no accounting for personalities and how people could either rub along together or end up rubbing one another entirely the wrong way. Add to that the constant harping on about the wretched governess’s curse, both in the media and in the whispers among the staff—suffice it to say that the sooner this wedding was done and Loren was pregnant with his child, the better.

How a nation of well-educated and forward-thinking people could remain so superstitious defied belief. The legend of the governess and her curse on the del Castillo family when she was spurned by her lover was just that. A legend. There was no proof. Even the media interest he himself had encouraged had turned into a two-headed beast he could barely tolerate. Giselle had been an enormous help, always stepping in to deflect questions away from him so she could handle them herself.

And she had come to his aid again today. In the face of the urgency in dealing with today’s debacle, her calm suggestion that she collect Loren from the airport had been welcome. Giselle was a consummate professional.

He knew she’d make Loren feel at home and get her comfortably settled at the castillo.

If he’d gone to get her, the press would never have let them leave. They’d still be there, posing for pictures, answering questions—wasting time that could be better spent letting Loren unwind after her flight and letting Alex get this administrative headache straightened out. It would be much better for Alex to spend time with her tonight, at the quiet family dinner he’d organized with his brothers and his grandfather, and no press around to badger them.

He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of his grandfather’s excitement over their planned dinner. Abuelo’s reaction when told that Loren would be returning to Isla Sagrado as his future bride had been worth the time away from the problems at the resort to visit with her.

He thought back to when he’d broken his brief liaison with Giselle. She’d pouted a little but had taken his decision, and the diamond tennis bracelet he’d bought her as a severance gift, with good grace and assured him her efficiency in her work would continue. And she’d reiterated her willingness to take up where they’d left off should he ever change his mind.

Until he’d seen Loren again, he’d given Giselle’s offer some serious thought. After all, once he’d married and met Abuelo’s concerns by ensuring the next del Castillo generation would be born, why shouldn’t he have some fun? But, despite the clinical manner in which he’d imagined this alliance would go forth, from the second his lips had touched Loren’s there had been something about her that had pushed Giselle’s offer right out of his mind.

That Loren was unschooled in the ways of love was clear, but how unschooled? The thought that she might be a virgin both intrigued and enticed him. To be her first lover, to unlock the sensual creature he’d tasted in that first kiss? Oh yes, there were definitely aspects of his marriage to Loren Dubois that he found himself looking forward to far more than he’d anticipated. Now, if he was going to enjoy any time with Loren later today he needed to catch up with his work here at the resort. Fortunes didn’t make themselves—legend or no.

By the time Giselle returned to the office he was entrenched in his work. He lifted his head only briefly when she came in with some papers.

“I hope Loren didn’t mind I couldn’t be there to greet her. Is she all settled now at the castillo?” he asked, scoring his signature across the letters she leaned over to place on his desk.

“Of course she minded you weren’t there. Wouldn’t any woman?”

Giselle laughed, but he noticed her smile did not quite reach her eyes.

Her fragrance, as heady and sensual as the woman herself, wove around him. But rather than the usual reaction it evoked in him—an anticipation of pleasurable things to come—he was reminded instead of the contrast between his assistant’s overt sexuality and Loren’s more subtle blend of allure. For some perverse reason, the latter was now far more appealing.

“And yes, in answer to your question, I made sure she was completely comfortable in her suite,” Giselle answered. “Although she did seem very weary from her travel.”

“Too tired for the dinner with Abuelo tonight, do you think?”

“Well, obviously I can’t speak for her but, yes, she did look rather shattered. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she slept all the way through until morning.”

Alex furrowed his brow in a frown. Until morning? That wouldn’t do. Abuelo was looking forward to renewing his acquaintance with the daughter of the man who’d been his son’s best friend for so many years. An edge of irritation slid under his skin at the thought that Loren would prefer to sleep rather than spend the evening with him. Alex had planned to present her with the del Castillo betrothal ring tonight. The official seal of their engagement. He huffed out a breath.

“Well, she’s just going to have to find her strength from somewhere. The dinner is far too important to postpone.”

He missed the subtle curve of Giselle’s mouth as he voiced his frustration.

“She probably will benefit from a few good meals, Alex. She does look rather … frail,” Giselle commented as she collected the papers off his desk and turned to go back to her desk in the outer office.

“Frail?”

Alex frowned again. Certainly Loren was very slightly built, but in his arms he’d felt the strength and suppleness of her body. Plus, he’d witnessed firsthand her mental determination.

“Appearances can be deceptive,” he concluded. “She will be fine, I’m sure.”

“Would you like me to make sure she’s ready for the dinner tonight?”

“No, Giselle, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“No problem.” His assistant smiled in return before closing his door behind her.

Alex sat staring at the door for some time, comparing the disparities between the two women. Aside from the obvious physical differences—Giselle’s lush femininity versus Loren’s more gamine appearance—they were worlds apart in other matters. While Giselle tended to be exactly what she appeared to be, and wasn’t afraid to say exactly what she wanted, Loren had hidden strengths. The way she’d dealt with her mother’s objections being a case in point. The phrase “still waters run deep” had been designed with someone like Loren in mind, he was sure.

Had he done the right thing? He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing headache that had begun behind his eyes. He had to have made the right choice. To have done anything else was unacceptable. Loren had all the credentials—from her bloodlines right down to her experience within the milieu where he moved socially. This marriage between them would work. She was everything he needed in a wife and he would do whatever he had to in order to be what she needed in a husband.

The late-afternoon sun slanted like a blush of color across the golden brick of the castillo as he approached. A wry smile tweaked at Alex’s lips as he realized just how much he took for granted that the medieval stronghold, in his family for centuries, was indeed his home.

While still remaining true to the age-old architecture and the style so typical of the island, the interior had been modernized to make for very comfortable living. Several del Castillo families could, and had in the past, share the various apartments the castillo offered for private family living, if desired. Despite that, his brothers had chosen to make their own homes elsewhere on the island—Reynard in a luxurious city apartment overlooking the sparkling harbor of Isla Sagrado’s main city, Puerto Seguro, and Benedict in a modern home clinging to the hillside overlooking the del Castillo vineyard and winery.

He understood why they each felt the need to carve out their own space but he still missed their presence around the castillo, for all the rare time he spent at home these days. Between himself and Abuelo there was a great deal of space to fill. A little more of the castillo had been filled today because Loren was inside right at that moment—waiting for him. Something about the thought of his bride-to-be newly settled in his home made it all abruptly real to Alex. After all the planning, she was finally here. In a few weeks, she would be his wife. And hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, the building would fill with the sounds of children again. His children. The thought made something deep inside him swell.

It would be good for Abuelo to be distracted from the rigors of growing old by the prospect of amusing the next generation of del Castillos. He had a wealth of family history to share. It was only right he have the opportunity to do so.

With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Alex swept his sleek black Lamborghini through the electronic gates and inside the walls, toward the stables that had been converted to a multicar garage thirty years ago. In minutes he was on the large curved stone staircase leading to the next floor, which housed the private suites of family rooms. Loren’s was close to his own and he hesitated at her door, his hand poised to knock.

Something stayed his hand, and he let his fingers curl instead around the intricately carved heavy brass handle of her door. It lifted smoothly, gaining him entrance. He would have to speak to her later about keeping her door locked. While the castillo’s security was advanced, paparazzi were not above masquerading as one of the many staff, or even bribing them, in an attempt to get the latest scoop on the family.

Long silent strides on the thickly carpeted floor led him to her bedroom. There, sprawled across the covers, lay his future bride. Every nerve in his body surged to life as he observed her, arms and limbs askew, hair spread like a dark cloud around her head. There should be a childlike innocence about her, he thought, yet instead there was only the lure of her female form.

Small breasts pressed in perfect mounds against the fine cotton of the T-shirt she’d obviously chosen to sleep in. And only the T-shirt, he observed, keeping himself grimly in check even as he feasted on the sight of the faint outline of her nipples against the well-washed fabric. He tore his eyes from their gentle peaks and instead gazed upon the long slender length of her legs. Not one of his most sensible decisions, he thought as a heated pulse beat low in his groin.

One of her arms curved up and over her pillow, the other was flung out to one side, her unadorned hand curled like a delicate shell.

Alex dropped to his knees at her bedside and leaned over the mattress. He felt the warmth radiating from her, as if it were a tangible thing, as his lips hovered over the softness of her palm. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips against the fleshy mound at the base of her thumb, the tip of his tongue sweeping across its surface to taste her skin.

Loren’s fingers curled to cup his cheek and he sensed the precise moment she emerged from her slumber. Heard the sharp intake of breath through her lush pink lips. Saw the awareness flare in her eyes as her lids flashed open.

“Alex?”

Her voice was drugged with the residue of sleep yet its huskiness sent a lance of pure heat cutting through his body, provoking him to full, aching arousal. Right now he wanted nothing more than to sink onto the soft mattress with her, to envelop her in his arms and to taste all the delights her body had to offer. But he’d already promised to wait until their wedding night and they would be expected amongst company very soon. He forced his unwilling flesh to cooperate and gently pulled away from her touch.

“I know you’re tired, but you must begin to ready yourself for dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

She sounded confused. Surely Giselle had informed her of this evening’s expectations.

“Yes, dinner. My grandfather looks forward to welcoming you back home.”

He averted his gaze as she pushed herself upright and sat with her legs crossed beneath her. The creamy skin of her thighs and the shadowed hollow he knew lay at their apex, just beyond the hem of her shirt, were pure torment as he imagined touching her softness and delving into the hidden flesh there.

Arousal flared anew, this time even more demanding than before. But Loren’s next words, delivered with an unmistakable note of challenge, doused his ardor as quickly as it had flamed into searing life.

“And you? Do you also welcome me home, Alex?”




Three


He fought back the flare of irritation that swelled inside him at her words. Was she criticizing him for not having been at the airport to welcome her? Giselle’s insinuation echoed in the back of his mind. He fought for an edge of control, reminding himself she was no doubt still overtired from her journey and perhaps still wearing her disappointment he wasn’t there to welcome her in person.

“Ah, I see you are still upset I was not at the airport to greet you. I thought Giselle explained why I could not be there.”

“Oh yes, she explained.” Loren unfolded her legs, threw them over the edge of the bed and rose to her full height.

Barefoot, the top of her head barely even reached his shoulder, and dressed as she was she gave an almost childlike impression. But there was nothing childlike in her demeanor, nor in the very female brand of dissatisfaction reflected in her eyes. He was reminded of the times he’d upset his mother. Never one to raise her voice, she’d only needed a look such as this to put him in his place.

“I would have been there if I could.” Alex softened his tone. He should have made more effort to be at the arrival hall. He realized that now. He’d tried to make things easier for both of them, but instead he’d made matters worse. Still, the situation wasn’t beyond salvaging and now he was determined to recover as much ground as possible.

“I have been looking forward to seeing you this evening,” he said, his voice low.

He saw pleasure light her eyes and felt an inner relief as her full lips curved into a smile.

“So have I,” she said shyly, dropping her gaze.

“So, you will dress for dinner and come down to share our repast?”

“Of course I will. I’m sorry I was a bit cranky. I’m never at my best when I first wake.”

Alex allowed his mouth to relax into a smile. “I’ll make a special note to remember that for after we’re married.”

She laughed, a delicious liquid sound that penetrated the last remnants of his temper and scattered them to the corners of the room.

“It might pay to.” She smiled. “Now, tonight. What time and where? I’m assuming your family still dresses for dinner?”

She must have been half-asleep already when Giselle told her, he decided.

“Yes, we change for dinner. We meet for drinks in the salon usually about eight and dine at nine. Late, I know, if you aren’t used to it anymore.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll acclimate. Will you take me down?”

“You no longer remember where the salon is?” He cocked a brow at her.

“Of course, I don’t imagine the castillo has changed all that much. I just …” She worried her lower lip with perfect white teeth. “No, don’t worry. I’ll meet you there at eight.”

Alex dropped a chaste kiss on Loren’s upturned face and moved away before the disappointment he sensed in her encouraged him to take more. Now that she was here and they were on the verge of achieving his goal of settling the governess’s curse, there was no need to rush into anything. There would be plenty of time to kiss her the way he wanted—after they were married.

“Good girl. I’ll see you there.”

Loren watched her door close behind Alex’s back and she fought the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. Now she was here he’d reverted to treating her like a child. Gone was the attentive lover who’d wooed her back in New Zealand. In his place was the old Alex she remembered so well. Slightly indulgent and full of the importance of his role as eldest son.

Well, she’d show him she was no infant to be coddled. Her body still hummed with her reaction to the soft kiss he’d pressed in her palm to wake her. Just one small caress and she’d shot to full wakefulness, her joy in seeing him only to be dashed by his reminder of her duty to be at some formal dinner tonight.

She knew they still adhered to the old ways, ways she’d taken for granted until moving to New Zealand with its more casual approach to lifestyle and mealtimes, but she’d hoped for a private dinner with her new fiancé. It wasn’t so much to have expected, was it? Surely Alex’s grandfather would have granted them this first night alone together?

There was nothing for it now, though, she reminded herself as the chime from an antique ormolu clock in her sitting room chimed the half hour. She had to fulfill Alex’s expectations. At least she knew she’d have fun catching up with his brothers. As for Alex, well, maybe she’d punish him a little for not pressing to have kept her to himself tonight. She had just the perfect outfit in there. She’d bought it with Alex’s reaction to her very firmly in mind.

She looked about her room for her suitcases and was surprised to see them gone. A quick look in her dressing room solved her problem as she espied her clothing already unpacked and hung neatly on hangers or folded away in the built-in drawers. She must have been totally out of it not to have heard the maid come in and see to her things.

She quickly filtered through the selection of dresses she’d bought, her hand settling on the rich red silk organza cocktail dress she wanted to wear tonight. The bodice was scattered with tiny faceted beads that caught the light and emphasized her small bust, while the layers of fabric that fell from the empire line below her breasts had a floating effect that made her feel as though she was the most elegant creature on the planet. Not a feeling she embraced often, Loren admitted silently.

She laid the dress on her bed and chose a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals in silver to wear with it.

“And if that’s not dressed up enough for dinner, then nothing will do,” she said out loud.

She made her way into her bathroom and took a moment to appreciate the elegant fixtures. The deep claw-foot bath beckoned to her but she knew she had little time left to get ready. She wondered briefly why Alex had acted as if she should have known all along about the dinner tonight. Perhaps Giselle had meant to tell her and had forgotten. Although Loren suspected that Giselle forgot very little indeed.

No, it must have been an oversight somewhere along the line. What with all the paparazzi at the airport, it was something that could easily have slipped Giselle’s mind. She was prepared to be charitable. After all, she was finally home. Back on Isla Sagrado. Back with Alex.

She hummed happily to herself as she took a brief and refreshing shower. After toweling herself dry with a deliciously soft, fluffy bath sheet that virtually encased her from head to foot, she swept up her hair into a casual chignon and applied her makeup with a light hand. She studied her appearance for a moment then decided to emphasize her eyes a little more and to apply a slick of ruby-red gloss to match her dress. With the strength of color of her dress she’d disappear if she didn’t vamp things up a bit, even if she normally only wore the bare minimum of cosmetics. Finally satisfied with her smoky eyes and glossy lips, she reached for a clean pair of panties and then slipped into her gown.

Loren loved the shimmer of the fabric as it brushed over her skin. The tiny shoestring straps and the low back of the dress made it impossible to wear a bra, but the beading hid any evidence that she was braless. She slid her feet into the high-heeled sandals and bent to do up the ankle straps before checking herself in the antique cheval mirror in her room.

Yes, she’d do nicely for her first meal at home with the del Castillo men, and for whoever else might be joining them. She wondered whether either Reynard or Benedict would have companions for the evening. Both of Alex’s brothers’ eligible bachelor status led them to be featured highly in magazines even as far away as New Zealand, and she doubted either of them would have far to look to find company.

A quick look at the clock on the bedroom mantelpiece projected her through her suite and out the main door into the corridor to the main stairs. She was grateful for the ornate carpet runner because she had no doubt her heels would have caught on the ancient flagstones beneath it as she hurried down the stairs.

For a moment the sense of longevity about the castillo seeped through her. How many del Castillo brides had traversed this very path to their betrothed over the centuries, and how many of those marriages had been as happy as she hoped hers and Alex’s would be? She shook her head a little, chiding herself for being fanciful as a sudden weight of expectation settled upon her shoulders. A small chilled shudder ran down her spine, as if she was being watched—judged, even.

Loren hesitated on the stairs and looked around her, but of course there was nothing there but the gallery of portraits of successive heads of the family over the past many years. She injected a little more urgency in her step as she reached the bottom of the staircase and headed to where she remembered the salon to be.

The murmur of deep male voices, punctuated by the sound of laughter, was comforting as she approached the room where Alex had said to meet. Loren quashed the lingering effects of the sense of disquiet that had hit her earlier and focused instead on the prospect of an evening with the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember. Nothing could go wrong now, nothing. Her life was finally what she’d always dreamed it would be.

With a smile on her face, she entered the salon and was treated to the impeccable manners of four gentlemen rising from their seats to welcome her. Loren nodded in greeting to Reynard and Benedict, each easily recognizable and, she noted with some surprise, unaccompanied by female adornments.

Alex stood a little to one side. His hair, still wet from a recent shower, was slicked back off his forehead, giving him a sartorial edge that went well with the black suit and shirt he’d donned for the evening. But the serious set to his mouth and his darkened jawline made him appear unapproachable.

His dark eyes caught hers and burned beneath slightly drawn brows. She felt her smile waver a little under his gaze, but then he smiled in return and it was as if another giant weight had been lifted from her.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes glowing in appreciation.

A flood of pleasure coursed through her at his words, warming her all the way to her toes.

“Come, say hello to Abuelo. He has been impatient to see you.”

She crossed the room, straight toward the silver-haired figure nearest the fireplace. Despite the fact it was May, a fire roared in the cavernous depths, throwing heat into the room and adding a cheerful ambience that chased the last of the lingering shadows from Loren’s mind.

From his proximity to the fire she deduced Alex’s grandfather felt the chill far more than he used to, and she couldn’t help noticing the slight droop to one side of his face and the way he leaned heavily on an ebony cane. It saddened her to see he’d aged so much since she’d left, but one look at the spark in his eyes showed her that Abuelo was still very much the patriarch and very much in control.

Her lips curved in genuine pleasure as she placed her hands in his gnarled ones and leaned in to kiss him on the cheeks.

“Bienvenido a casa, mi niña,” he murmured in his gruff voice. “It is past time you were back.”

“It is so good to be home, Abuelo,” she replied, using the moniker he’d insisted she call him back when she was a child.

“Come, sit by me and tell me what foolishness has kept you from us for so long.”

The old man settled back into his easy chair and gestured to the seat opposite.

“Now, Abuelo, you know that Loren’s mother insisted she move to New Zealand with her,” Alex said, coming to stand behind Loren’s chair and resting one hand upon her shoulder. “Besides, you cannot monopolize her when she is here to see everyone.”

Loren felt the heat from his palm against her bare skin and leaned into his touch, relishing the sizzling contact.

“I do not see any ring upon her finger, Alexander. You cannot monopolize her while she is yet a free woman.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Abuelo,” Alex teased in return. “Loren is most definitely mine.”

A fierce pang of joy shot through her, catching her breath, at his words. If she’d had any doubts, they were now assuaged.

Loren felt Alex’s hand slide down the length of her arm, to her left hand. Clasping it, he drew her upright to face him. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she saw the intensity in his dark eyes. Alex was a man who obviously thought deeply, not sharing those thoughts with many, but if the possessive fire she glimpsed burning bright in his gaze was any indicator, she had no doubt that he was about to stake his claim to her before his family.

Alex slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew it again.

“This is a mere formality, as Loren has already consented to be my wife, but I want you, mi familia, to witness my pledge to marry her,” Alex announced as he revealed the ring in his hand.

“That’s if she hasn’t taken one look at us and changed her mind,” Reynard taunted his elder brother and was rewarded with a quelling glare.

“I h-haven’t. I w-wouldn’t,” Loren stuttered slightly as she saw the exquisitely beautiful, smooth, oval ruby set in old gold.

“Then this is for you,” Alex murmured, sliding the ring upon her engagement finger.

The gold felt warm against her skin and the ring fit as if it was made for her and her alone. She’d recognized it immediately when he’d drawn it from his pocket. The del Castillo betrothal ring, handed down from firstborn son to firstborn son, had been in the family for centuries. The last woman to wear it had been Alex’s mother.

The gold filigree on each shoulder of the ring had been crafted into delicate heart shapes and the stone appeared to take on a new glow against her skin.

“It’s beautiful, Alex. Thank you,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “I’m honored to accept this.”

“No, Loren, you honor me by agreeing to become my wife.”

“I’ve always loved you, Alex. It’s no more than I’ve ever wanted.”

The air between them stilled, solidified, almost becoming something corporeal before Benedict interrupted them with two glasses of champagne. He thrust one at each of them.

“This calls for a toast, yes?”

He passed another glass to their grandfather before raising one of his own.

“To Alex and Loren. May they have many happy years.”

A look passed between the brothers, something unspoken that hovered in the air as they connected silently with one another, then as one lifted their glasses to drink. Whatever it was, it was soon gone as sibling rivalry and teasing took over the atmosphere, leading even Abuelo to laugh and admonish them gently, reminding them of the lady in their midst.

Now she really belonged, Loren thought as she smiled and sipped the vintage French champagne, letting the bubbles dance along her tongue much as happiness danced through her veins. And, as the subtle lighting in the room caught the ruby on her finger, she knew that no matter how distant Alex had been today, everything was now perfect in her world.




Four


“I see he’s given you that old thing.”

Loren forced her shoulders to relax and her instincts not to bristle at Giselle’s throwaway remark. It was three days after her arrival at the castillo and the first time she’d been forced back into Giselle’s company. Days that had been filled with dress fittings and learning her responsibilities toward the staff at the castle. At least in the matter of her wedding dress she’d been able to choose for herself. As far as the wedding ceremony and reception went, Loren had been forced, with so little time left, to refrain from making any changes.

She chewed over Giselle’s comment about the ruby. Clearly the woman wanted to belittle both her and Alex’s gift, but she’d chosen the wrong target. What would the other woman know, or even begin to understand, of del Castillo tradition and the importance and validation behind having received the ring Alex had given her?

“I’d have asked for something more modern myself,” the other woman continued.

Giselle lifted one hand from the steering wheel of the car in which she’d just picked Loren up from the castillo. Shafts of sunlight caught on the diamond tennis bracelet she wore on one wrist.

“Something more like this.”

Loren merely smiled. “Your bracelet is beautiful, but I prefer knowing that there is only one of this ring and understanding the history behind it. I feel privileged to be chosen to wear it.”

And she did feel privileged. Being given the family heirloom had cemented her place at Alex’s side, no matter how emotionally and even physically distant he had remained since that night. She was confident that in time their emotional distance would close and eventually disappear altogether, especially if their reaction to one another was anything to go by. She closed her eyes and momentarily relived the pressure of his mouth against hers as he’d said good-night at the door to her suite on the night he’d given her the ruby. She’d all but ignited under his masterful lips and tongue.

She’d wanted to clutch at the fabric of his shirt and pull him toward her, to feel the length of his body imprint against hers as it had when he’d kissed her back in New Zealand. But he’d stepped away slightly—only allowing their lips to fuse, their tongues to duel ever so briefly, before pulling away and wishing her a good night’s rest.

What would he have done, she wondered, if she’d taken him by the hand and pulled him into her suite and closed the door firmly behind them? Would he have taken her to her bed and finally taught her the physical delights of love that she’d only read about?

Her timidity frustrated her. What kind of woman was she, coming to marriage to a man of the world such as Alex with no experience beyond a few unsatisfying furtive fumblings and clumsy kisses? She was eager to learn from Alex, but anxious at the thought of disappointing him.

She cast a sideways glance at Giselle. No doubt she’d never faced such a conundrum. The woman looked as if she’d been born ready to take on the world and all its challenges. She also didn’t look like the kind of woman to whom Loren could confide her insecurities.

She wondered who’d given Giselle the bracelet she wore so proudly. No doubt some man who’d found her particular brand of confidence and self-assurance as sexy as her lush figure and thick, cascading blond hair. She probably had an array of jewelry like it.

As if suddenly aware of her scrutiny, Giselle flicked her a glance.

“Where would you like to start today? Alex said you’re to spare no expense on your trousseau. I imagine you were limited for choices where you lived in New Zealand.”

“A little, yes, but aside from the usual imported labels we have access to our own wonderful designers, too. I just rarely had the necessity to dress up all that much.”

Loren shifted in her seat, a little uncomfortable with the unspoken suggestion that her wardrobe lacked for anything. Had Alex said as much to Giselle? Did he even trust her to choose her own clothing? The answer was obviously no. Why else would he have insisted Giselle come with her today, when she’d already hinted she’d prefer to spend her time with him, not his assistant?

Besides, everything she owned was of excellent quality, even if the outfit she’d chosen today lacked the European flair of Giselle’s tailored trousers and open-necked silk blouse.

“Well, that will all change as Alex’s wife, you know. You’ll need a good range of items that can take you through any occasion. We frequently entertain royalty and overseas celebrities at the resort and Alex likes us to keep a personal touch with those special guests.”

Giselle’s casually possessive use of the words we and us struck Loren as more than accidental. Was she hinting that she had acted at Alex’s side in a role as something more than merely his employee? They’d certainly have made a striking couple—he with his dark good looks and she with her golden beauty. Loren silently chastised herself for the pang of envy she felt. Giselle was Alex’s right-hand person—of course she’d have escorted him on company business.

She took a steadying breath before replying, “Yes, we pride ourselves on that level of care at the station, too. You’d be surprised at the caliber of guests we have entertained there. But that was nothing new to me. As you know, I grew up here and my father was also a prominent member of Sagradan society. I’m well used to moving among royalty and celebrity and I look forward to accompanying Alex in the same regard. Now, with the shops, I think we should start from the skin out, don’t you? I love lingerie shopping.”

“Good choice. I know just the right shop to start at and Alex already has an account there.”

Loren stiffened. There was no avoiding it. Alex kept an account at a lingerie store, which meant he was well accustomed to purchasing women’s lace and finery—from the skin out. Taking a deep breath, Loren reminded herself that there could be an innocent reason for why he kept such an account—perhaps for those special guests that Giselle had already alluded to. Luggage went missing, or was delayed, every day around the world, and things were occasionally lost or damaged in hotel laundries. It would make perfect sense for him to hold an account, Loren rationalized silently.

But in spite of the logic of that explanation, a bitter taste settled in her mouth. Yes, Alex probably used the account for business reasons—but she was a fool if she thought that was the extent of it. Of course he was a man of the world and had no doubt had multiple lovers. Even as a teenager, she’d noticed the way women flocked to him. At the time, she’d dealt with it by trying to scare them all off, but she hadn’t been naive enough to believe that she’d succeeded. And now she had proof. She didn’t have to like it but she was going to have to learn to live with it, one way or another.

Unconsciously she twisted the heavy ruby ring on her finger. She hadn’t expected any words of love from him when he’d given it to her, even though she’d expressed them herself. How could he have learned to love the person she was now, anyway? She’d changed so much from the sometimes petulant and demanding child he remembered. But they had plenty of time for him to learn to love her. They were to be married and she was going to do everything in her power to make it a long and loving marriage.

At the lingerie store Loren was overwhelmed by the multiple arrays of delicate fabrics and colors on offer. She fingered a satin-and-lace nightgown of the sheerest oyster pink. There was a matching wrap that had an exquisitely detailed lace panel in the back. She knew she had to have it.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Giselle commented over her shoulder. “But I wouldn’t waste too much money on things like that. Alex isn’t keen on night wear.”

Loren stiffened again. And she’d know that snippet of information how? Okay, so maybe the other woman’s earlier comments could have been misconstrued but there was no doubt that Giselle had ceased to be subtle about her allusions to things about which she appeared to have a very personal knowledge.

A needle of pain worked deep into Loren’s chest. So, Alex had indulged in an affair with his beautiful assistant. May indeed still be doing so, for all she knew. Did he plan for it to continue even after their marriage? Loren swallowed against the bile that rose, sudden and foully bitter, in her throat.

Giselle still hovered at her side, her green eyes narrowed slightly as if gauging the result of her comment on Loren. Loren knew she had to say something—anything to get through the next few minutes—but she also knew that she dare not show any sign of weakness. A woman like Giselle would capitalize on that weakness and run with it and there was no way Loren was about to let that happen.

“Hmm,” she murmured calmly, nodding slowly. “Good to know. Thanks, but I think I’ll get it anyway.”

She was rewarded with a sharp look from her companion, puzzlement followed swiftly by acceptance, as if Giselle realized that she’d made her point but had failed to rattle Loren as she’d so obviously intended.

It was a hollow victory.

The rest of the day stretched ahead interminably for Loren. The mere thought of absorbing and defusing more comments from Giselle extinguished every last moment of pleasure she’d anticipated in the day.

Loren suggested they take a break with a coffee at one of the harborside cafés. Once they were settled at their table and had placed their orders she sat back and let the warmth of the late spring sunshine seep into her body. She took a deep, steadying breath. She knew what she had to do.

“Giselle, look, I appreciate that you’ve taken time out of your day to help me with my shopping but I think I’d like a little time to myself and see if I can’t catch up with some old school friends instead. You head back to the resort, I’m sure you have plenty of work you’d rather be doing. I’ll just get a cab back to the castillo later today.”

“Alex specifically asked me to assist you today. I can’t leave you just like that,” Giselle protested.

“Come on, let’s be honest here. You don’t want to spend time with me any more than I do with you. You’ve made it clear that you and Alex have a history. I accept that. But it is now very firmly in the past.”

So back off, the unsaid words hung in the air between them.

Loren’s heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t used to confrontation of any kind—avoided it like the plague on most occasions, to be honest. But when shoved hard enough she always stood her ground and right now she’d drawn her demarcation line.

“So you’re sending me back to be with him? A bit risky, don’t you think?”

The smile on Giselle’s face was predatory.

“Risky? Well, it was me he traveled half the world to visit and asked to marry, wasn’t it?”

Giselle snorted inelegantly. “Nothing more than the fulfillment of his duty to allay an old man’s concerns and create some strong publicity for the del Castillo business empire. You can ask Alex about that yourself if you don’t believe me.” She bent and collected her handbag and rose gracefully from her chair. “Well, I can see I’m no longer wanted here. Far be it from me to stay where I don’t belong.”

Loren sat and watched Giselle walk away, the clear insult about Loren’s presence on Isla Sagrado, in Alex’s life, echoing in her ears.

But Giselle was wrong, Loren had no doubt about that. If anything, Giselle was the intruder here, not Loren. Not when Loren had been born and raised here. Not when Alex had brought her back. Her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. She did belong here, Loren repeated silently in her mind. She did.

When Alex returned to the castillo that night Loren half expected him to mention something about Giselle returning to the office early, or even insist that she avail herself of the other woman’s expertise. She’d prepared at least a dozen responses to him by the time she’d finally returned home herself, her arms laden with parcels after a full afternoon of shopping on her own. Her feet ached with the miles she’d walked but inside she’d reached a state she could finally call happy. No matter what Alex said to her about Giselle, she wouldn’t let it bring her down.

The number of people who’d recognized her, the old friends she’d indeed bumped into who had been excited to see her—all had made her feel so thoroughly welcomed back.

As it transpired, she hadn’t needed a single one of her arguments. Alex was distracted all through the evening meal, letting Abuelo direct most of the conversation and listening to her tell him of all she’d seen and done during the day.

After their meal, Alex walked her to her suite as he did every night. As she unlocked the door he put out a hand to cover hers.

“Would you mind if I come in with you this evening?” His voice was deep and the sound caressed her ears like a lover’s touch.

“Not at all,” she answered with a smile as she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside. “Please, come in.”

Loren’s heart fluttered in her chest. Had Alex decided not to wait for their wedding night? Nerves, plaited with a silken thread of longing, pulsed deep inside, slowly stoking a furnace of heat within her. Her skin grew sensitive. So sensitive, even the newly bought gown she’d worn to dinner felt too heavy against her.

She turned to him, aware that her cheeks were warm and no doubt bore a flush of color quite at odds with the elegance of her appearance tonight. Her eyes raked over him. Ah, she never tired of drinking in the sight of his masculine beauty. Of the breadth of his shoulders as they filled the designer suit he wore with such effortless grace and style. Of the press of his chest against the crisp white cotton of his shirt. Even the way his throat moved above the knot of his silver-and-black striped silk tie mesmerized her.

Her mind filled with the prospect of placing her lips to that very point where she could see the beat of his pulse—of pressing her lips into his skin, allowing her tongue to caress that spot and taste him, tasting so much more.

She clenched her thighs against the sudden thrum of energy that coiled there. But instead of lessening the sensation, it only intensified it, sending a small shock of pleasure through her and driving a tiny gasp past her lips.

She felt as though she was poised on the balls of her feet, ready to move into the shelter of his arms and feel once more the press of his body against hers. Her whole body was attuned to the man only a few short feet away from her.

“There is something I need to discuss with you,” Alex said, the abruptly businesslike tone of his voice quelling her ardor as suddenly as if she’d been drenched by a rogue wave on the rocky bay beneath the castle.

Was he now going to take her to task for her dismissal of Giselle today? Loren felt the lingering remnants of desire slowly flicker and die. She swallowed and took a steadying breath.

“Well then, would you be more comfortable sitting down? Perhaps I can pour you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you. A cognac I think. And pour one for yourself, too.”

Did he think she’d need it? Suddenly Loren wished he had simply stuck with their usual routine. Even a noncommittal kiss at the door was bound to have been better than being castigated for rejecting his assistant’s company. Not that she was going to take any criticism of her choice today without putting up a decent protest of her own. But was she ready to face the truth if she asked him about his relationship with Giselle?

She crossed the sitting room of her suite to the heavily carved dark wooden sideboard against one wall. She took two crystal snifters from within and then lifted the cut-crystal stopper from one of the decanters on the edged silver tray that sat on the polished surface. Alex’s warm hand closed over hers.

“Here, let me pour, hmm?”

A fine tremor ran through her as his touch sent a sizzle of electricity coursing up her arm.

She pulled away from him and forced her suddenly uncooperative legs to take her over to one of the two-seater couches. She lowered herself onto the richly upholstered fabric, yet couldn’t bring herself to sit back and relax against the cushioned back, instead perching on the edge.

Alex crossed the room and handed her one of the glasses. Loren bent her nose to the rim, taking a deep breath of the aroma of the dark amber liquid before lifting it to her lips and allowing the alcohol to trickle over her tongue and down her throat. She never normally drank hard spirits, but she had the distinct feeling that tonight she was going to need it.

She swallowed, welcoming the burn the distilled liquor left in its path, and watched as Alex sat down opposite her. He unbuttoned his jacket and reached inside, drawing out a folded paper packet. He carefully placed the packet on the coffee table between them, then took a sip of his cognac.

The liquid left a slight sheen upon his lips, capturing her gaze with the inevitability of a moth to a flame. He pressed his lips together, dissipating the residue, allowing her to look away.

“Is that what you want to discuss?” Loren pressed as he made no effort to explain the papers he’d laid before them.

“Yes. It’s a legal document I need you to read and sign before we are married. Someone can take you into the notary’s office tomorrow for it to be witnessed.”

“What kind of legal document?” Loren asked, not even bothering to point out that she could quite capably make her own way into the city.

Alex’s dark eyes bored into hers. “A prenuptial document.”

“Well, that is only to be expected,” Loren said matter-of-factly, even as she forced herself to quell the swell of disappointment that rose within her. Did he really find such a document necessary?

As far as she was concerned, this marriage was forever. She had no desire and no plans to ever leave Alex, nor, if such a heartbreaking event should occur, could she imagine she would ever make unreasonable financial demands against him.

“Perhaps it would be best if you read it first. If you have any questions I’m sure the notary will be able to answer them for you.”

Alex put down his glass and rose from his seat. “I’d better get going. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Flight?” Loren asked. “Where? May I come with you?”

“It is nothing but a business trip to Seville. You would be bored. Which reminds me, you will need to ask Reynard or Benedict to take you to the notary as Giselle will be accompanying me. Actually, best to call on Reynard. Benedict drives like a demented race-car driver at the best of times and I would hate for anything to happen to you before the wedding.”

Loren fought back the bitter disappointment his words evoked in her. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she replied through stiff lips. “When will you be back?”

“In a couple of days, certainly no more than three.”

Three days away with Giselle? Loren felt the news deep in her gut, as if it was a physical blow. Perhaps her earlier fears of today were true after all.

“Good night, then.” Alex walked the couple of steps that brought him to her side and bent to kiss the top of her head before leaving the room.

As she watched the heavy door of her suite close behind him she blinked against the prick of tears that had begun behind her eyes. She would not cry. She would not.

Loren reached across the table, lifted up the legal packet and slid out the folded document. Her eyes scanned the information. As unaccustomed as she was to legal jargon it all seemed to make sense until she reached a paragraph headed up with the words legal issue.

She read the paragraph, then read it again to be certain she understood the terminology. If she was correct, to ensure the continuation of the del Castillo bloodline she and Alex must make love at the time when her body was at its most fertile, and to ensure the correct timing, her menstrual cycle was to be monitored. Even the details of the clinic she would be monitored by were in the agreement.

Loren let the papers slide from suddenly nerveless fingers.

The legalese twirled around in her mind, sentences fragmenting before joining back together. Did this mean that she and Alex would only make love when she was ovulating? That was, what? A span of a few days at most in each month. And what if she got pregnant? Would he still share her bed, still make love with her as a husband did with his wife? Or would her job have been done, leaving him free to go back into Giselle’s arms?

Just what kind of marriage was she entering?




Five


Loren heard the knock at the door to her suite and wondered if perhaps her maid had forgotten something. She’d only just sent her away, preferring to spend these last few moments before her wedding alone. She picked up her voluminous skirts and went to open the door.

“Giselle!” Loren stepped back, startled to see the blonde there. She let her skirts settle back down to the carpet beneath her, the ivory French taffeta giving a distinctive rustle.

“My, don’t you look every inch the fairy-tale princess,” Giselle remarked, coming into the sitting room.

Loren tolerated the woman’s scrutiny of the dress that was the fulfillment of all her childhood dreams. Yes, she did feel like a fairy-tale princess in the strapless gown. Somehow the words from Giselle’s glossy red lips made the idea more of an insult than a compliment.

“Was there something you wanted?” Loren asked coolly.

“No, Alex asked me to come up and check on you. He thought you might benefit from some female company since your mother isn’t here.”

Loren bit back the retort that immediately sprang to her lips. She would not fight, not with anyone, on her wedding day.

“That’s lovely of him. But as you can see, I’m fine, thank you.”

She waited for Giselle to leave but instead she settled herself on one of the couches. Loren had to admit, she looked beautiful. The woman certainly knew how to make the most of her features. The dress she wore would have looked vampish on anyone else, but on Giselle it was elegantly sensual.

“You know, I have to hand it to you. I thought you’d have given up by now,” Giselle said.

“Given up?”

“Well, how many women would have signed that prenuptial agreement, for a start? I know I certainly wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps you would if you loved your fiancé enough,” Loren commented quietly. “As I do.”

Giselle waved her hand as if dismissing Loren’s words, the very gesture making Loren’s spine stiffen in irritation. She’d wanted this time alone to reflect on her coming marriage, and particularly on the terms of the prenuptial agreement that Giselle had mentioned. Clearly, the blonde knew all about it, and that fact rankled with Loren. It should have been a private matter. One between her and Alex alone.

This past week had been such a whirl of activity with a museum opening to attend along with several charity functions, all of which gave her a taste for what her duties would be like as a del Castillo bride. She and Alex, while together for much of their waking moments, had barely had a moment alone to talk. Whenever she’d tried to bring the subject of the prenuptial document up, Alex had brushed it off until later. Now, today, was about as late as it could get and Loren was still unsure of where she stood on the agreement she’d eventually signed.

“Well, whatever,” Giselle continued, oblivious to Loren’s obvious displeasure in her company. “You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty. It’s either incredibly naive of you to stick with it or incredibly kind.”

“Kind?”

“To agree to the terms just to help the company out and keep an old man happy.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m marrying Alex because I love him. Because I’ve always loved him,” Loren stated as firmly as she was able.

“Surely you’re aware that Alex is only marrying you because of the curse.”

“The curse?” Surely she didn’t mean the old governess’s curse?

Loren knew well the story of the woman who’d been brought to Isla Sagrado from the south of France to educate the daughters of one of the original del Castillos on the island—a nobleman from Spain. The poor woman had fallen in love with her employer and entered into an affair that had lasted years.

Legend had it that she’d borne him three sons, but that in view of the fact his wife had only borne him daughters, he’d taken her boys from her and he’d raised them as his legitimate issue, paying her off with a ruby necklace from the del Castillo jewel collection. Paintings in the family gallery that predated the nobleman showed the necklace, known as La Verdad del Corazon—the Heart’s Truth. It was a stunning piece of chased gold with a massive heart-shaped ruby at its center. Loren had always privately believed that it was more the type of gift a man gave to his one true love than as payment for services rendered.

When the nobleman’s wife died, however, he’d married another woman—one from a high-ranking family. In her misery the governess was said to have interrupted the wedding, begging her beloved to take her back. When her lover—and her sons—turned their backs on her, she cursed the del Castillo family. If, in the next nine generations, the del Castillos did not learn to live by their family motto of honor, truth and love, the ninth generation would be the last. With that pronouncement, she cast both herself and the Heart’s Truth from the cliffs behind the castle and into the savage ocean. Her body was later found, but the Heart’s Truth had been lost ever since.

Loren had always found the story to be truly tragic and, as a child, had often imagined a happier ending for the governess and her lover.

If the curse was to be believed—not to mention previous generations’ total disregard for its power—it was responsible for the steady diminishment of the family over the past nine generations. But to believe that Alex was marrying her in an attempt to break the curse, well, that was just ridiculous. What happened three hundred years ago had no bearing on life today.

“Surely you must know of it. You’re from here, after all, and the papers have been full of it, especially since the announcement of your engagement. The boys are the ninth generation—the last of the line. Old Aston was starting to have concerns that they would stay that way. Alex is trying to downplay it but you know what his grandfather is like once he gets an idea into his head. He believes he’s even seen the governess’s ghost. Can you imagine it? Of course, Alex would move mountains to please the old man—especially if it also happened to be good for business.

“Anyway, they came up with this fabulous publicity drive where they’d all get married and have babies to prove to everyone, their grandfather especially, that the curse isn’t real.”

Giselle laughed but Loren was hard-pressed to quell the shiver that ran down her spine. Even more so when she weighed the truth in the other woman’s words. If, as she’d said, Abuelo was genuinely concerned about the curse, Alex would do anything to alleviate those concerns. It was the kind of man he was and his loyalty and love for his family were unquestionable.

Would that loyalty and love extend to her, she wondered, or was Giselle right and was Loren merely the means to an end?

Giselle rose from her seat and brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her dress.

“Well, I can see you don’t need me. I’ll go down to Alex and let him know you’re ready. The cars are waiting to take everyone to the cathedral.”

“Thank you.”

Loren forced the words past her lips and tried not to think too hard about the ceremony ahead.

She would much rather have married in the intimate private chapel that formed a part of the castillo’s family history, but her wedding to Alex was to be quite a show. Visiting dignitaries from all over Europe would be in attendance along with the cream of Sagradan society. Hundreds of guests, if the lists she’d seen were any indication.

Hundreds of strangers.

As the door closed behind Giselle’s retreating figure it struck Loren how alone she truly was. The few old school friends she’d managed to touch base with since her return all viewed her differently now. Sure, they were friendly, but it was as if there was an invisible wall between them. As if she was unreachable. Untouchable.

Well, untouchable certainly fit in well with how Alex had continued to treat her. Maybe he was saving himself, making sure he was locked and loaded for when they met the terms of their prenuptial agreement, she thought cynically. Or maybe he managed to sate his appetites elsewhere, a snide voice niggled from the back of her mind. She pushed the thought from her head but couldn’t quite get rid of the bitter aftertaste in her mouth at the thought.

Loren crossed the sitting room to the large window that looked out past the castle’s walls and over the landscape. The sun was hot and bright today, a portent of the burgeoning summer months ahead. The sky was a sharp clear blue, broken by slender drifts of cirrus cloud here and there. It was a perfect day to be married by any standard, so why then did she suddenly feel as if it was anything but?

Alex fidgeted with his cuff links for what felt like the umpteenth time today as he stood at the altar of the cathedral.

“Do that again and they’ll fall off,” Benedict cautioned from his side.

“Funny guy,” Alex responded, but forced himself to relax.

He looked back across the rows and rows of guests, some faces he knew well, others hardly at all. The cathedral was packed. Today’s ceremony would be the beginning of the new age of del Castillos that would lay old ghosts to rest, and everyone who was anyone wanted to be there to see it. He met Abuelo’s stare from the front pew, the one carved with the del Castillo crest. The old man gave him a slow nod of approval and Alex felt his chest swell with pride. Any doubts he might have had about whether he was doing the right thing were nothing in the face of his grandfather’s happiness.

“Do you know what the delay is?” Reynard asked. “Maybe she’s got cold feet and has made a run for the airport.”

Alex gave his brother a glare, but he felt a short sharp pang of concern. Loren had been different since he’d given her the prenup to read and sign. A little more distant and a little less eager to please. Had the agreement bothered her that much? Surely she could see the necessity for such an agreement without it affecting their marriage. The financial considerations of providing for her, should he die unexpectedly or should their marriage fail, aside, of primary importance was ensuring the next generation. Once that was out of the way then, well, they could take whatever came next at their leisure—a prospect that, he had to admit, filled him with pleasure. It had been hell keeping his hands off Loren these past two weeks, especially when she’d obviously been eager to take their relationship to an intimate level.

But tonight his wait would be rewarded. Granted, the timing of their union meant that their liaison tonight would not be part of the agreement they’d both signed. It would instead be the consummation of the promises they would make to one another before all these witnesses today.

The importance of those promises settled in his chest like a solid lump of lead, pressing down on his heart, his very honor. It didn’t settle well with him to be pledging to love another for the rest of their days when, in truth, he didn’t love her.

Love. It wasn’t something he and Loren had discussed. Hell, it wasn’t even something Alex had considered until she’d declared her feelings for him the night he’d given her the engagement ring.

When she’d first agreed to marry him back in New Zealand, he had assumed she cared for him, perhaps admired him a little the way she had when she was a child. He’d also known she was attracted to him—just as he was attracted to her. And she’d wanted to honor her father’s memory, in much the same way that he’d wanted to ease his grandfather’s mind. So Alex had been comfortable with the arrangement—with the idea of a marriage based on mutual regard, a healthy dose of desire and shared respect for family. Love had never been part of the plan.

But something about her sweetly serious declaration when she accepted his ring and gave him her heart had moved him unexpectedly, making him feel almost shamed. Was it fair to her to accept her love when he was not yet prepared to return it? A picture of his parents flashed through his memory. He wondered what they’d think of the choice he was making today.

They had known real love. It had been considered only fitting that if their light had to be extinguished so early that they die together. The avalanche that had taken them, while on a romantic skiing holiday together without their sons, had wiped out joy as the boys had known it up until that time. Yet they’d been lucky to have had Abuelo, who’d put his own grief aside to continue to guide and raise the three teenage boys whose anger at their parents’ fate sought many outlets.

It had been Abuelo’s steady love and firm hand that had brought them through. Love they reciprocated. Taking another look at his grandfather’s beaming face, Alex knew that while he would not be telling the truth as he made his vows to Loren today, the gift of hope it would give his grandfather was worth far too much for him to give in to second thoughts now.

“Last chance to back out,” Benedict said under his breath. Before Alex could respond, a sudden hush spread through the cathedral. The centuries-old organ, which had been delivering a steady medley of music, halted. The lump of lead in Alex’s chest shifted, forming a fist around his lungs as all eyes turned to the main doors. They swung slowly open and a burst of sunlight filled the doorway, bathing the vestibule with its golden glow. And then, within the glow of light, a lone figure appeared.

The fist squeezed tighter as Alex realized how difficult this must be for Loren. In the face of her mother’s blank refusal to attend their nuptials, he should have insisted she be accompanied on her journey down the center aisle of the cathedral—past the many assessing eyes of the glitterati and politically powerful. But she’d refused all offers from his brothers and Abuelo.

“My father will be with me in spirit,” she’d said, holding that determined, fine-boned chin of hers firmly in the air, daring him to challenge her wishes. “I need no one else.”

He’d had to accede to her wish. After all, it was the only thing on which she had insisted in all the matters pertaining to the ceremony.

The powerful organ began again and as Loren began to glide down the aisle toward him, Alex realized he’d misjudged his bride’s strength and fortitude.

Pride suffused every cell in his body as she walked toward him with effortless grace—her bare shoulders squared and her spine straight, her slender neck holding her head high. Loren’s skin gleamed against the strapless ivory gown that hugged her torso and exposed the gentle swell of her breasts before spreading into a bloom of fabric around and behind her. For the first time in his memory, Alex was speechless. Beneath the gossamer-fine veil that covered her head and shoulders and drifted down to her waist he caught glimpses of light striking the diamond tiara that had once been his mother’s. The matching necklace, its design the inverted image of the tiara, settled against her luminous skin at the base of her throat and spilled in a gentle V over her collarbone.

Her face was composed behind her veil, her eyes avoiding contact with his, focused instead on the altar behind him. As she drew closer he could hear the swish of the fabric of her gown as it swept across the floor, could see the fine tremors that shook the opulent bouquet of early summer blooms she carried.

“Looks like lanky little Loren Dubois has really grown up, hmm?”

Reynard’s voice in his ear snapped Alex from his trance.

“For once in your life could you just shut up?” he hissed at his brother through teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached, earning a glare of disapproval from the priest in the process.

Reynard’s next words, however, shocked him in a way he never expected.

“Don’t hurt her, Alex. Whatever you do, don’t ever hurt her.”

“Noted,” Alex replied with a swift nod.

He met his brother’s eyes briefly. There was no doubting Reynard meant what he said. For some strange reason it made him feel better that Loren had a champion. That it should have been him was not wasted on him at all, but given what he’d agreed to do to save the del Castillo family and fortunes, it was only fitting it be one of his brothers. Both, if the look on Benedict’s face was any indicator.

A savage rush of possession roared through his veins. They could look, certainly, they could warn him as much as they liked, but essentially, Loren was his. As she joined him on the steps in front of the altar that knowledge gave him the ultimate satisfaction.

When it came time to say their vows, Loren looked at him, truly looked at him, for the first time that day. And as she pledged to love him, he found he had to look away. Her words carried such surety, such conviction. She deserved more than empty promises in return. Her voice wobbled slightly on the last word of the formal ceremony they’d chosen. No, he corrected himself, the ceremony Giselle had chosen. Shame scored him. This was Loren’s wedding day. He should have given her more say in how the day was to go.

He’d approached this all wrong. He already had her love and loyalty and he’d walked roughshod over both in the execution of his goals and his needs. Loren was more than a means to an end, she was a vital, living, breathing woman.

He would make it up to her, he promised himself silently. As soon as they’d fulfilled the first part of the prenuptial agreement, he would definitely make it up to her.

Loren had barely spoken half a dozen words directly to him since they’d exchanged their vows. In the car from the wedding reception it was no different. Alex found the uncharacteristic silence challenging. Normally Loren found something, anything, to talk to him about—it was one of the things he found so engaging about her.

But something had changed inside her today; he could sense it in the way she held herself, the way she’d spoken to others. As if she was playing a part and was not really totally involved in what she was doing.

As their car swung through the gate of the outer wall and drew up to the entrance of the castillo it finally occurred to Alex why she was so quiet. She had to be nervous about tonight. He would make sure their first time was one she would remember forever. A special night. A memory to be treasured.

Dios, but she looked exquisitely beautiful. He could almost taste the satin softness of her skin already. Almost feel the shiver of desire ripple across her skin.

As the driver opened his door he gave a short command to the man to allow Alex himself to escort his new wife from the vehicle. He walked around to her side of the car and pulled open her door, offering her his hand.

“Come, Loren. Let me help you inside.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

The voluminous skirts and sweep of the train of her dress was a confection of fabric about her, yet she handled the garment with the grace of a swan. Another definite plus in her favor—no matter the situation, she handled it with aplomb. In spite of his concerns, he knew he’d chosen well when he’d decided to marry her. She would be a marvelous asset to him in so very many ways.

“You were wonderful today, I was so proud of you,” he bent to murmur in her ear as they approached the arched entrance of their home.

“It was an—” she hesitated a moment before continuing “—interesting day.”

“Interesting?” Alex forced himself to laugh softly. Surely she hadn’t picked up on his unease during the ceremony—or had she? Well regardless, he’d have to put her mind at ease. “It was a great success. All of Isla Sagrado knows you are now my beautiful bride and their blessings upon us will reflect back upon them. I imagine, though, it must have been difficult for you.”

“Difficult?”

“Without your family to support you.”

“Yes, it was difficult, but it was what my father would have expected of me.”

There was a note to her voice that sounded off-key but Alex pushed the thought aside. She was obviously weary after the pomp and ceremony of the day and the obligations she’d fulfilled at the lavish reception.

Alex guided Loren up the stairs and toward the shared suite he’d ordered their effects delivered to today—the suite that had been his parents’. As they swept inside he nodded in approval at the sensual soft lighting provided by the plethora of candles he’d requested be lit before their arrival.

The heady scents of rose and sandalwood drifted on the air, feminine and masculine, yin and yang.

“Would you like to be alone while you change? Or perhaps I should call your maid to assist with your gown?”

“No, it’s all right. I can manage the lacing myself,” Loren replied.

Again there was that slight discordance. Again he shrugged it away.

“I’ll leave you to change then.”

She merely inclined her head and moved gracefully across the room to her private chamber. Alex watched as she drew the door closed behind her then wasted no time getting to his private en suite bathroom and divesting himself of his clothing before stepping under the hot steam of a quick shower. A few swift swipes of his towel later and he was dry. Naked, he padded through to his dressing room where he reached for midnight blue, satin pajama bottoms and a matching robe.

Would her touch be as soft as the fabric that caressed his skin, he wondered. No, it would be softer, he was certain. His body coiled tight in anticipation of what lay ahead.

Before he realized it, he was at the door to her rooms, his hand twisting the handle and thrusting open the door. Candles had been lit in here, too. The large pedestal bed, swathed in cream-and-gold draperies, stood invitingly empty.

Empty?

A sound drew his attention as his bride came from her bathroom. Her satin nightgown skimmed her slender form enticingly, cascading over her gentle curves much as his hands now itched to, also. A small frown puckered her brow as she worked a brush through her hair.

“Here, let me,” Alex said as she crossed the room. He took the brush from her fingers. “Sit down on the bed.”

Loren did as he requested and Alex stood a little behind her and forced himself to focus on her hair and only her hair as he reached to stroke the brush through her tresses, easing out the knots and occasional forgotten hairpin.

“Ah.” She sighed. “That feels wonderful.”

Liquid fire pooled in his groin at her words. He planned to make her feel so much more wonderful very soon. Now that the brush flowed more smoothly through her hair he allowed himself to focus on the deliciously smooth, bare shoulders she presented to him.

Palest pink straps of satin were all that held her nightgown up. Straps that with the slightest breath could slide down those shoulders and farther, down her slender arms, exposing her back. He’d never found the prospect of observing a woman’s back so enticing before. But then again, with Loren everything was different. Everything felt new.

He couldn’t help himself, he had to taste her. He gathered her hair in one fist and gently drew it away from the nape of her neck then bent to kiss her, allowing his tongue to stroke across her skin in a private caress.

He felt her response ripple down her spine. Smiling to himself, he kissed her again—this time sucking gently—and was rewarded with the soft sound of her gasp. Alex let the hairbrush drop to the floor and placed both his hands upon her shoulders, coaxing her upright to turn and face him.

Her face, clean of the makeup she’d worn today, appeared flushed in the candlelight—her eyes luminous, their pupils dilated so far they almost appeared to consume the dark velvet brown of her irises. Her lips were moist and remained slightly parted. His gaze dropped to her breasts, to the clearly delineated pinpoints of her nipples as they thrust against the satin with her each and every rapid breath.

Something knotted tight and low in Alex’s belly. Something possessive. Something wild. Every instinct within him roared that he plunder her lips, that he drag the delicate fabric of her nightgown from her body and expose her to him, allowing him to feast on her feminine glory. To rush her to dizzying heights she had no experience of.

To mark her as his own.

She is inexperienced, he reminded himself sternly, forcing himself to hold back, to slow down.

He let his hands skim across her shoulders and gently cup the back of her neck, tilting her head to him. He lowered his face, his eyes locked upon hers. His entire body rigid with the need to take this as gently as humanly possible.

His lips were only millimeters from hers. Already he could feel her breath against him, smell the sweetness of her breath.

“Alex, wait!”

Through the cloud of passion that controlled him he heard the plea in her voice. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a shuddering breath, constraining his desire.

“You are frightened. I’m rushing you. Do not worry, Loren. I will make tonight one you will never forget.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, pulling out of his arms, creating a short distance between them.

Already his body cried out for her. Craving her slender frame against his, aching for her warmth to envelop him.

“Then what is it?” he asked, fighting back the edge of frustration that threatened to spill over into his voice. He didn’t want to frighten her more with his hunger.

“It’s about us. Our marriage.”

“Us?”





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