The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride (15 page)

The sickening thud and Luca's agonising howl sounded simultaneously. Grace swung her horrified gaze from the sight of the dog, lying unmoving beneath the wheels of the van, to Javier, and the expression on his face made her want to weep. How could she have ever thought him heartless? she wondered. He'd once told her that he didn't believe in love, but now she had proof that he'd been lying. For a few seconds she'd glimpsed raw pain, fear and the abiding affection he felt for his faithful companion in his eyes, before he'd controlled his emotions and hurried over to Luca. For a man who had received so little love in his life, he had so much to give—but his childhood had made him wary and mistrustful and rather than risk being hurt yet again he'd lavished all his affection on his dog who loved him unconditionally in return.

‘Tell Torres to call the vet,' he rasped when she stumbled over to where he was kneeling beside the dog. ‘And hurry; he's losing a lot of blood.'

For the next few hours Grace could do nothing other than pray for Javier's beloved pet to be spared. She would do anything, give up everything she held dear, if it meant that Luca lived. She would do anything to see Javier smile again.

The thought slotted into her brain like the missing piece of a jigsaw and suddenly everything made perfect sense. She loved him. That's why every day he'd been away had seemed endlessly long and grey, despite the brilliance of the late summer sunshine. Without Javier she only felt half alive. Somehow, without her being aware of it, he had become her sun and moon and her reason for greeting each day with a smile on her face.

It wasn't just lust, she acknowledged shakily as she paced the rose garden. On their honeymoon he'd taunted her that he was the only man to turn her on, and she couldn't deny it. Javier evoked feelings and wicked, wicked thoughts that she still found shocking, but he was the only man to bring her to the edge of ecstasy—the only man she had ever wanted with every fibre of her being.

Seeing him today with Luca, she finally realised that her feelings for him went far beyond physical desire. She wanted to hold him and protect him from hurt. She wanted to love him with her body and her soul. It was thanks to Javier that her father wasn't spending the next few years in prison, and although they had both gained from their marriage contract he had treated her with respect and consideration.

It was no accident that his staff were devoted to him. Beneath his façade of haughty arrogance she had discovered him to be kind and charming, with a hot-blooded passion that made her ache for him.

But on their wedding day Javier had told her not to look for things that didn't exist—a warning that he could never love her. Back then she'd believed him to be as hard and impenetrable as the walls of the castle and just because she'd glimpsed a chink in his armour was no reason to hope he would ever come to view their marriage as anything more than a temporary business contract, she reminded herself bleakly.

Right now, the only thing on his mind was Luca. He would be in no mood to deal with her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Javier or herself by revealing her feelings for him and so, taking a deep breath, she walked back into the castle.

Luca had suffered a fractured leg, multiple bruising and, as happened with so many injured animals, had slipped into a state of shock, Javier explained when Grace joined him in the huge, stone-floored kitchen. It had taken both Javier and Torres to carry the dog into the castle and the vet had been reluctant to move him again. Instead the medic had tended to Luca's injuries and administered a strong sedative and now they could only wait and hope that he would survive.

‘The next twenty-four hours are crucial, but the vet is confident he'll recover,' he told her grimly, his expression shuttered.

‘Oh, I hope so,' Grace murmured fervently as she knelt beside Javier and gently stroked the unconscious animal. ‘I know how much you care for him,' she said thickly, tears stinging her eyes when she recalled his devastation at the moment of the accident.

She felt him tense and then he caught hold of her chin and tilted her face so that he could look into her eyes. ‘Sometimes I think you know too much about me, Grace. I feel those deep blue eyes looking into my soul and laying bare my secrets.'

‘I don't want there to be secrets between us,' she whispered, mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze. ‘You're my husband—although you seem to have forgotten that fact these past few weeks.' She recalled the seductive voice of the woman at his apartment and swallowed. Now was not the time to reveal her irrational jealousy.

‘You think I could forget you?' His beautiful mouth curved into a half-smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘I wish I could,
querida
, but the truth is I've spent every waking minute thinking about you and every night dreaming that you were lying next to me, your face so close to mine that if I turned my head my lips would brush against yours…Like this.'

His mouth moved over hers slowly, sweetly, as if he wanted to savour the moment after all the days they'd spent apart. This was where she wanted to be, Grace thought simply as she wound her arms around his neck and held him close. She parted her lips and responded to his kiss with tender passion, wanting to comfort him after the trauma of witnessing Luca lying beneath the wheels of the truck.

‘You should try and sleep,' she murmured when he finally lifted his head and she noted the lines of strain around his eyes.

‘Not tonight—I want to sit with Luca in case he stirs.'

‘Well at least take a few minutes to shower and have something to eat—I'll sit with him, and I promise I'll call you if there's any change in his condition.' They were still kneeling on the floor beside Luca's basket, but now Javier stood and drew her to her feet and she felt his lips brush softly against her brow.

‘Grace, I don't deserve your gentleness,' he said huskily. ‘You're the one who should get some sleep—you're flying to England tomorrow.'

‘Do you mean you're sending me away? But why?' she faltered as her imagination leapt into overdrive. Was he sick of her and her principles and wanted her out of the way so that he could bring his mistress to the castle?

‘It's only for a week.' His brows lowered in a puzzled frown at her obvious distress. ‘I know how much you miss your father and I'd arranged for us both to visit him, but I can't leave Luca like this.'

‘Of course not, but we could postpone the trip until he's better.' Relief flooded through Grace and she offered him a tentative smile.

‘I'm sure you haven't forgotten that it's Angus's birthday in a few days. When I spoke to your aunt, she told me how much he's looking forward to seeing you.' Javier smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘You can't let him down,
querida
.'

No, she couldn't let him down, Grace acknowledged, but if she was honest her mind had been so full of Javier that she had forgotten all about her father's birthday. ‘When do I leave?' she asked quietly.

‘Early tomorrow. You'd better go to bed, and I'll see you in the morning.'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but as she reached the door the sound of his voice halted her.

‘Grace! You will come back?' The expression in his eyes was unfathomable, but she noted the faint colour delineating his sharp cheekbones.

‘Of course I will,' she promised softly. ‘We made a deal—remember?'

But the question of how she would live without him when their marriage contract expired tormented her for the rest of the night, and when Torres drove her away from the castle the next morning she couldn't hide her unhappiness.

Autumn had obviously decided to pay an early visit to England's south coast, Grace decided on the fifth day of leaden skies and torrential rain. She stared out of the window of Aunt Pam's guesthouse at the flooded lawn, and thought wistfully of the exotic palms and grasses that thrived in the gardens of El Castillo de Leon.

She couldn't wait to go back, she admitted, although her impatience had little to do with Granada's warm sunshine—she would happily live in the Arctic as long as she was with Javier.

‘Checkmate!' Angus Beresford announced happily, lifting his head to glance at her over the rims of his spectacles. ‘Something tells me your mind wasn't fully on the game, sweetie.'

‘I've never been able to beat you at chess, Dad,' Grace replied with a smile. ‘Mum was always a better opponent than me.'

Angus was silent for a moment and then slowly returned her smile. ‘Yes, she could beat me hollow, bless her.'

Grace caught her breath. It was practically the first time since Susan Beresford's death that she'd been able to bring her name into the conversation. Before, she had always avoided any mention of her mother for fear of sending her father into a deep depression that would last for days. But now, with the help of a bereavement counsellor, Angus was finally coming to terms with the loss of the woman he had fallen in love with at first sight.

There was still a way to go, she realised as she leant forwards and kissed Angus on the cheek. He would continue to take medication for clinical depression for many months yet. Susan's death had plunged him into the depths of despair, and for a little while he had truly lost his mind. There were still great gaps in his memory, and she was sure he recalled few details of his last year as manager of the bank, or his desperate attempts to deal with his escalating financial problems.

She certainly wasn't going to remind him, Grace thought protectively. Thanks to Javier, Angus was free from prosecution, he was no longer in debt and he was safe and cared for with Aunt Pam. She was determined that he would never learn the price she had paid for his freedom—a year of her life given to a man she despised.

But of course she didn't despise Javier, she acknowledged painfully. It was impossible to think she had ever hated him when her love for him filled her heart to overflowing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the peal of the doorbell, followed by excited yapping from Aunt Pam's three terriers. ‘Come on, Misty, into the kitchen—and you, Moppet, and stop chewing my slippers. Grace, do you think you could get the door?' came her aunt's faintly desperate plea.

Trying not to smile, Grace hurried down the hall and opened the front door. Her heart almost leapt from her chest when she stared into a familiar golden-eyed gaze. ‘Javier…What—what are you doing here?' she stammered, filled with sudden dread. ‘Luca…?'

‘Is recovering quicker than even the vet predicted,' he swiftly reassured her. ‘I'm here to take you home, of course,' he told her with a flash of the haughty arrogance she knew so well. But the warmth in his eyes, the flare of hunger that he couldn't disguise, told her he was not as in control of his emotions as he would like her to believe. ‘I've decided that my wife has been away long enough.'

‘But you knew I was coming back tomorrow. You arranged my flight,' she said dazedly, struggling to think when the sight of him seemed to have turned her brain to the consistency of cotton wool. He was wearing faded denims and a black leather jacket that emphasised the width of his broad shoulders. His hair needed cutting and curled over his collar, and his jaw was shaded with dark stubble, as if his trip to England had been a mad impulse and he'd been in too much of a hurry to shave.

‘Patience has never been my strong point,' he drawled with a complete lack of remorse. ‘My private jet is waiting on the runway at the local airport—go and get your things.'

‘You mean you want to leave right now? But I'm not packed or anything. What is this really about, Javier?' Grace demanded, her voice thick with hurt. ‘Did you think I might break our deal? I gave you my word that I'd come back to you, but you obviously don't trust me.'

‘It's not a question of trust,' he growled, his smile fading as he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

‘Then why the sudden urgency?' she muttered. ‘You look as though you fell out of bed this morning straight onto the plane.'

He shrugged and suddenly seemed determined to avoid her gaze. ‘The urgency is because we've spent almost a month apart. I was held up in Madrid for longer than planned and then you came here to celebrate your father's birthday.' Incredibly, he appeared embarrassed as his eyes briefly met hers and quickly veered away. ‘I…missed you.'

‘Oh!' A choir of angels burst into song inside Grace's head and she gave him a shy smile. ‘I…missed you too,' she whispered. She stared at him, willing him to look at her, and her heart began to pound when his mouth curved into a slow, sensual smile that promised heaven.

‘Grace…' He looked deep into her eyes and she quivered as a current of electricity arced between them.

‘Yes?' she murmured breathlessly.

‘Do you think I could come in out of the rain before I drown?'

‘Oh! Yes, of course. I'm so sorry!' Cheeks flaming, she stepped back and ushered him into the hall. He was so wet that water ran in rivulets down his face and he lifted a hand to slick his dripping hair from his brow. ‘You're soaked to the skin—here, let me help you take off your clothes,' she fussed, tugging at his jacket.