He escorted Juliet out of his private suite, and as they descended the grand staircase and walked through the house he had to wait several times while she stopped to admire the artwork on the walls.
‘Don’t tell me that’s an original Van Gogh?’ she said, sounding amazed. ‘And a Cezanne and a Renoir? It’s an impressive art collection. Do the paintings belong to your grandfather?’
‘Some of them are mine. I bought the Jackson Pollock at auction a year ago.’
He was curious about where a girl from a council estate who sold sandwiches and cleaned for a living had gained such an in-depth knowledge of art. Juliet intrigued him... Rafael frowned as he admitted to himself that she was the only woman ever to have done so.
She stood in front of the Pollock and studied the painting. ‘It looks like the artist just threw paint at the canvas. I don’t like it. Do you?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve never thought about whether I like it or not. I paid one hundred and twenty million dollars for the painting, which I bought as an investment.’
She tilted her head to one side and studied him thoughtfully, the same way she had looked at the painting. ‘Fancy paying all that money for something that doesn’t fill your heart with joy.’
‘I will be paying a lot of money for you, but I am not feeling joy right now, chiquita. I’m feeling exasperated,’ he growled. He glanced at her, clumping along next to him in her scuffed boots, and sighed. ‘I had forgotten that you haven’t had a chance to look around the house because your illness has confined you to bed. I’ll give you a tour after lunch.’
He was about to open the dining room door but Juliet put her hand on his arm. ‘Is it going to be as awful as last time?’ she said in a low tone.
Why hadn’t he thought that she would be nervous about meeting his family again—especially his grandfather? And who could blame her? Guilt snaked through Rafael at knowing he had put Juliet in this situation.
Her eyes were huge in her face and her small hand was cold when he wrapped his fingers around hers. ‘I have explained that Hector is not angry with you.’
‘He’s disappointed with me because I’m not good enough to be your wife.’
He grimaced. ‘No, cariño. My grandfather has always been disappointed with me. You have done nothing wrong and I won’t allow him to insult you again.’
* * *
Despite Rafael’s reassurance, Juliet felt sick with nerves when he ushered her into the dining room and led her over to the group of people who were gathered by the open French doors where pre-lunch drinks were being served.
He introduced her to his numerous relatives and she was conscious of the curious glances they gave her.
Worse were the unflattering comments she overheard his mother make about her clothes. Perhaps Rafael had not informed his family that she understood Spanish.
The tangible antagonism between him and his mother, the icily elegant Delfina Casillas, was another puzzle. She remembered that Rafael had mentioned he had a stepbrother, but he didn’t seem to be at the lunch.
When they sat down for the meal she was relieved that Hector was seated at the far end of the table. He did not pay her any attention, but she was too on edge to enjoy the five courses, and she opted for water rather than wine so that she kept a clear head. She was toying with her dessert—a chocolate confection that at any other time she would have adored—when Hector spoke to her in English.
‘Rafael tells me that you ran your own business in London. What type of business?’
Conversation around the table suddenly stopped and Juliet sensed that everyone was looking at her. She lifted her chin. ‘I sold sandwiches and delivered them to office staff at lunchtimes.’
‘You worked in catering?’
Hector’s tone was as scathing as if she’d announced that she had worked as a stripper. Her temper simmered. She hated snobbery, and having been subjected to it at ballet school by some of the other pupils she had learned to stand up for herself.
‘Yes. I also had a cleaning job in the evenings—pushing an industrial floor-polishing machine around a shopping centre.’
‘Santa Madre! Ella es un domestico!’ the old man muttered to Rafael’s mother, who was sitting next to him.
Delfina’s expression became even haughtier as she glanced along the table at Juliet.
‘Abuelo, there is no need for you to be rude about my wife,’ Rafael said curtly.
Juliet’s heart lifted at his defence of her—until she remembered that he was determined to convince his grandfather he was in love with her.
She looked over at Hector. ‘Presumably you are unaware that I speak Spanish and that I can understand the horrible things you have said about me? I am not from the gutter. My parents weren’t wealthy but they were hard-working, and they taught me good manners—which you seem to lack.’
A gasp went around the table, and beside her she felt Rafael stiffen, but she was too angry to care.
‘And there is no shame in doing domestic work. Without the staff who run this house you would have to clean your own floors.’
As quickly as her temper had flared it cooled again, and she wished she was anywhere but sitting at this table, with Hector Casillas looking at her disdainfully as if she were a piece of rubbish. What if he decided not to appoint Rafael CEO because she had allowed her pride to get the better of her? She did not dare glance at Rafael, certain that he must be furious with her, and she was startled when he gave a shout of laughter.
‘Well said, querida.’ He looked over at his grandfather. ‘As you have just discovered, Abuelo, my wife is petite in stature but she is as fierce as a lioness.’
Juliet turned her head towards her husband and her heart lurched when he smiled at her, showing his even white teeth. She must have imagined that note of admiration in his voice, she told herself.
Following her outburst the atmosphere in the dining room among his relatives was strained and she could not wait for the meal to be over. It was Sofia who broke the awkward silence.
‘Where did you learn to speak Spanish, Juliet?’
‘My aunt is married to a Spaniard and Uncle Carlos insisted on speaking Spanish at home with Aunt Vivian and my cousins. I lived with them for a couple of years, and quickly picked up on how to speak the language, but I’m not confident at reading and writing in Spanish.’
It was for that reason she had been unable to find a better paid job as a translator, Juliet thought ruefully.
‘Did you live in Spain with your aunt and uncle?’ Sofia asked.
‘No—Australia. They settled in Sydney twenty years ago, but my uncle wanted to feel a connection to his birth country.’
‘What about your parents? Do they also live in Australia?’
She shook her head. ‘Mum and Dad died before Poppy was born.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sofia said gently. ‘I assume your parents were not very old. Did they lose their lives in an accident?’
‘Their car broke down on a motorway and they were waiting for the rescue truck. It was a foggy night and a lorry ploughed into them. They were both killed instantly.’
‘What a terrible tragedy. You must have been devastated.’
‘Yes.’
Memories flooded Juliet’s mind of the night that her life had been blown apart. She missed her parents so much and she felt very alone—an outsider in Rafael’s family home, made to feel unwelcome by his relatives. Tears blurred her eyes and she stared down at the table while she struggled to bring her emotions under control. To her horror she felt a tear slide down her cheek and drip onto the tablecloth. The bead of moisture darkened the pristine white cloth as it soaked into the material.
Rafael made a low sound in his throat, almost like a groan, and placed his hand over hers, where she was resting it on the table. That human connection—the warmth of his skin as he threaded his fi
ngers through hers—tugged on her heart.
For a few moments she allowed herself to daydream that he actually cared about her as he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against her knuckles. Her eyes flew to his and he held her gaze, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. Time seemed to be suspended, and it was as if there were only the two of them floating in a private universe.
Juliet released a shaky breath—but when she glanced around the table she saw that Hector was watching them and understanding dawned. Rafael was acting in front of his grandfather and she was a fool for wishing that his concern was genuine.
When the lunch was over, and they stood up and walked out of the dining room, she tried to snatch her hand out of his. ‘Hector can’t see us now, so you can stop pretending to be sympathetic,’ she muttered.
‘I wasn’t pretending.’ He stopped walking and stared down at her, tightening his fingers around her hand so that she could not pull free. ‘I am not without compassion. You have been through a hell of a lot.’
She shook her head, refusing to allow herself to fall for the huskiness in his voice. ‘Like you care, Rafael,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I realise that for the next year I will have to act like your loving wife in public, but I don’t want your pseudo-sympathy or your fake kisses.’
Something indecipherable flared in his eyes. ‘There was nothing fake about the chemistry we both felt this morning or the way you responded when I kissed you. Perhaps I should remind you?’
Without being aware of how she’d got there, Juliet found herself standing in a small alcove off the marble-lined entrance hall. Rafael ignored her renewed attempts to free her hand by the simple method of repositioning it behind her back.
He swore when she kicked his shin. ‘Calm down, you little wildcat.’
She glared at him, her heart thudding unevenly as he lowered his head. ‘I don’t want you to kiss me.’
‘We’ve been through that once.’
He sounded bored, but his eyes glittered with something that Juliet was stunned to realise was desire. For her. He lifted his other hand and pulled the pins out of her bun, so that her hair unravelled and spilled over her shoulders.
‘No one is around to see us so why are you doing this?’ she asked desperately.
‘You need to practise kissing,’ he told her.
His voice was deadpan, but there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made her stomach swoop.
‘It’s my guess that you haven’t had much experience.’
‘I’m sorry if you were disappointed by my efforts earlier,’ she choked. ‘Do you take pleasure in humiliating me?’
‘I find this much more pleasurable,’ he murmured against her lips, his breath mingling with hers as he brought his mouth down and kissed her with a possessiveness that decimated her defences.
And Juliet surrendered. She suspected that she would hate herself later, but right now she was powerless to fight the restless longing that stirred low in her belly as Rafael deepened the kiss and explored the shape of her lips with his tongue before he dipped it into her mouth, demanding a response that she could not deny him.
She had never felt like this before—wild and hungry and aching with a passion that stung her nipples and tugged sharp and needy between her thighs. Rafael had been right to think that she hadn’t had much experience of kissing or anything else.
She’d only been on a few dates with Bryan before he had suggested they spend the night together. Naively she’d believed that he was in love with her, as she had been with him, and so she had agreed.
Her first and only sexual experience had been uncomfortable and unsatisfactory—which he had assured her was her fault. Bryan had not wanted her for more than one night—and Rafael did not want her at all. Not really.
He had married her because she was unattractive and now he was stuck with her for a year. He couldn’t resume his playboy lifestyle while he had to convince his grandfather that his marriage was genuine. Faced with a choice of celibacy or sex with his wife, perhaps he had decided that she was the better of the two options.
Shame doused the fire inside her and she jerked her mouth away from his. ‘No.’
‘No?’ He sounded as dazed as she felt and he was breathing hard. ‘I could very easily persuade you to retract that statement, chiquita...’ he rasped.
‘Why would you want to? We both know that I am the last woman you would desire. I am too thin and plain.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve seen pictures of the supermodels you take to bed.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You are not plain. You just need the right clothes for your shape.’
‘My mother used to say that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I know what I am, and more to the point I know my lack of looks and sophistication are the reasons you married me.’
It hurt more than it should, and she pushed past him, hating the idea that he might pity her.
She ran up the grand staircase and then hesitated on the landing when she realised that she had no idea where Rafael’s suite of rooms were or, more importantly, the location of the nursery. Her arms ached to hold her daughter and feel the unconditional love that Poppy gave her and she returned a thousandfold.
‘Are you lost?’ Rafael’s sister walked along the corridor towards her and laughed when Juliet nodded. ‘The house is huge, isn’t it? When Rafael and I first came to live here we couldn’t get over how grand it is.’
‘I assumed you were both born here. Where did you live before you moved into the mansion?’
Sofia gave her a thoughtful look. ‘You should ask my brother. Here’s the nursery.’ She seemed relieved to change the subject. ‘I promised to take the twins swimming this afternoon. Will you and Poppy join us?’
‘Neither of us have swimwear. I’ve never taken Poppy swimming. The local pool where we lived in London was closed down by the council. There was a pool at a private gym but I couldn’t afford the membership fees.’ Juliet flushed and looked away from Rafael’s elegant sister.
‘I’m sure you have always done your best for your daughter,’ Sofia said gently. ‘But Poppy can use one of the swimsuits that the girls have grown out of, and I’ll lend you a swimming costume.’
Juliet’s conscience would not allow Poppy to miss out on her first experience of swimming, and the little girl’s excitement when they arrived at the pool later that afternoon helped her to overcome her reluctance to slip off the towelling robe and reveal the sky-blue swimsuit that Sofia had lent her.
The twins were already in the water and Juliet noted that they were proficient swimmers. She felt guilty that her circumstances meant that Poppy had missed out on so many things—especially a father, she thought as she watched Sofia’s husband playing with his daughters. He waded up the steps carrying Ana and Inez in each arm, and Sofia introduced him to Juliet.
‘I was meant to arrive back in time for lunch but my flight was delayed,’ Marcus Davenport explained. His pleasant face broke into a grin. ‘I hear that you stood up to Hector? I wish I had been there to witness it.’
Sofia and Marcus were so friendly that Juliet started to relax as she played in the pool with Poppy, who was wearing armbands and bobbing about happily in the water.
‘There’s an indoor pool too, and Poppy will soon learn to swim without water aids if you bring her every day,’ Sofia said.
For the first time since Rafael had dropped the bombshell that they would have to remain married for a year and live at the Casillas mansion Juliet realised that there would be some benefits—especially for her daughter. Poppy was already picking up a few Spanish words from the twins, and she would have so much freedom to play in the gardens or at the beach, which had been visible when Juliet had stood on the balcony that morning.
Her stomach hollowed as she remembered what had happened when Rafael had found her on the balcony. He had kissed her, and
it had been so much better than she’d imagined.
And she had imagined it often.
Her secret fantasies, in which he swept her into his arms and claimed her mouth with his, had not been disappointed by the sensual expertise of his kiss. Just thinking about it made her breasts tingle, and when she glanced down she was dismayed to see the hard points of her nipples outlined beneath her swimsuit.
The sound of a familiar gravelly voice with a sexy accent caused her to spin round, and she quickly ducked her shoulders under the water when she saw Rafael standing at the edge of the pool. A pair of navy blue swim shorts sat low on his hips, and Juliet’s gaze skittered over his hair-roughened thighs before moving up to his flat abdomen and broad, tanned chest covered in silky black hair.
Oh, my! She edged into deeper water to hide her body’s reaction to his rampant masculinity.
Poppy gave a squeal of delight when she saw Rafael. ‘Raf—are you coming swimming?’
‘Would you like me to, conejita?’
He swung himself down into the pool and dived below the surface before reappearing and raking his wet hair off his brow with his hands.
‘Let me see you swim, little rabbit,’ he said to Poppy, and she immediately kicked her feet the way Juliet had tried to persuade her to do for the past twenty minutes.
They stayed in the water for a while longer, until Poppy started to shiver, and then Rafael lifted her onto the poolside where Elvira was waiting with a towel. He turned back to Juliet and frowned when he saw her tense expression. ‘What’s the matter? We are meant to be playing happy families but you haven’t stopped glaring at me.’
‘That’s just it. This is a game to you,’ she said tautly. ‘But while you are “playing happy families” to impress your grandfather, there is a danger that Poppy will become fond of you. When I agreed to our marriage deal it was only going to be for a couple of months, but now we have to stay together for a year and it will be harder on Poppy when I take her back to England.’
Wed for the Spaniard's Redemption Page 8
