Wed for the Spaniard's Redemption

by Chantelle Shaw

  The thought sent Juliet’s heart hurtling down to her toes. She had never imagined when Rafael had brought her to the Casillas mansion that she could be this happy and feel so settled. Some of his relatives had been cool towards her at first, but others, like his aunt Lucia and uncle Alvaro, were friendly and made a fuss of Poppy.

  Rafael’s mother had kept her distance since that explosive lunch, but Juliet didn’t regret the things she’d said to Delfina. Rafael had told her more about his terrible childhood in the slum, and Sofia had also spoken to her about their early life.

  ‘I don’t remember much about the slum or my father,’ she’d told Juliet. ‘My brother took care of me and I felt safe with him.’

  But no one had taken care of Rafael and protected him from his violent father—least of all his mother, who had abandoned him and then spurned him, or his grandfather, who had found him but refused to acknowledge Rafael as his successor.

  Juliet knew she must not forget the reason why Rafael had married her, but over the past weeks she had felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to another person. Even though she had adored her parents and known they loved her, their love for each other had come first. But it would be the worst folly to start believing that Rafael was hers, or that he too felt a connection between them that went beyond the passion they shared.

  Pushing her complicated thoughts to the back of her mind, she sat down at the table with Poppy and Elvira and poured herself a cup of coffee. A feeling of nausea swept over her and she set her cup down without taking a sip. She was probably hungry, she decided. But the sick feeling grew worse after she’d eaten some yoghurt and she hoped she wasn’t coming down with another gastric virus.

  Luckily the sensation of nausea soon passed, and she spent the morning at the pool with Poppy before Elvira took the little girl back to the house for lunch.

  Juliet was aware that Rafael’s grandfather had come to sit beneath a parasol on the pool terrace. She had barely spoken to him since he had been so unpleasant to her when Rafael had introduced her as his wife, but she had left her book on the table where Hector was now sitting.

  Steeling herself for more of his rudeness, she walked over to him, puzzled to see two copies of a psychological thriller by a popular author on the table.

  ‘Are you enjoying the book?’ she asked as she picked up her copy.

  Hector shrugged. ‘It is good, but I have not read very much of it. My eyesight is poor because I have cataracts in my eyes which impair my vision. A surgical procedure could resolve the problem, but I also suffer from a heart condition and my doctor has advised me against having an anaesthetic.’

  ‘I’m sorry. You must find it frustrating not to be able to read. I know I would.’ Juliet hesitated. ‘I could read to you, if you like.’

  After a moment he nodded, and said rather stiffly. ‘Do you have time? Your little daughter keeps you busy.’

  ‘Oh, Poppy will have a nap after lunch.’ Juliet picked up Hector’s copy of the thriller and opened it at the page he had bookmarked. ‘It’s lucky this is the English edition. I’m not very good at reading in Spanish.’

  ‘But you speak the language fluently.’ He sighed. ‘I must apologise for the reception you received when my grandson brought you here.’

  Juliet was not one to hold a grudge. ‘That’s all right. I wasn’t what you were expecting. I’m not the kind of wife you hoped Rafael would marry.’

  ‘No,’ Hector admitted. ‘But I have watched you with Rafael and I think you are a good wife to him. You love him, don’t you?’

  She flushed. Were her feelings for Rafael so obvious? If so, had he guessed how she felt about him?

  She met his grandfather’s knowing gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said huskily.

  It occurred to her that she was supposed to be trying to convince Hector that their marriage was genuine, but she didn’t have to pretend that she had feelings for Rafael.

  She looked down at the book in her hand. ‘Chapter Four...’ she began.

  * * *

  The Valencian sun grew hotter as the summer progressed, and Juliet spent much of her time slathering sun cream on herself and Poppy, cursing their pale Anglo Saxon skin that burned so easily. Even so she had developed a light golden tan, and Poppy brimmed with energy and had learned to swim without water aids.

  Life couldn’t get much better than this, she thought one afternoon. A few days ago she had received a letter from the Australian law firm informing her that Bryan was no longer seeking custody of Poppy.

  The reason he’d given for dropping his claim was that he felt reassured that Poppy was now growing up in a stable family environment since Juliet’s marriage. But her cousin in Sydney had heard that Bryan’s heiress girlfriend had dumped him. Juliet had emailed, offering Bryan phone contact with his daughter, and possibly visits when Poppy was older, but she’d had no response.

  It was a huge relief to know she would not lose Poppy. She looked over at where the little girl was busy building a sandcastle. They had spent the day at the Casillas estate’s private beach—her, Rafael and Poppy, and Sofia, her husband Marcus and the twins. They had swum in sea that was as warm as a bath, and now the men were tending to a barbecue while the children played and she and Sofia had a chance to relax.

  They must look like a typical family group, Juliet thought, looking over at Rafael and finding him staring at her. Their eyes met, held, and he smiled, his teeth flashing white in his tanned face, causing her heart to skip a beat.

  It was tempting to believe that it was all real: the lingering looks he gave her when she glanced up from her book, his smile which was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes every morning, the way he held her close after sex. And the sex... She bit her lip, thankful that her sarong hid the hard nipples jutting beneath her bikini top as she remembered how he had made love to her on this very beach the previous evening, after they had walked hand in hand along the shoreline at sunset and he’d tumbled her down onto the sand.

  Rafael had told her that he would not fall in love with her. He didn’t believe in love, only lust. But was it foolish to think, to hope, that he might see her as more than his public wife and private mistress?

  Juliet sighed as her mind turned to the niggling worry that had the potential to shatter the fairy tale. Her period was late. Only by a few days, but it was enough for her to feel concerned. It had got her thinking about her period last month, which had been unusually light. She’d put it down to the gastric virus she’d had when she’d arrived in Spain. The feeling of nausea when she smelled coffee was another red light, but it was probably all in her imagination.

  To put her mind at rest she’d bought a pregnancy test, and if her period didn’t start in another couple of days she would take it. She closed her eyes and an image popped into her mind of a chubby olive-skinned baby with a mop of black hair and green eyes like his father’s.

  Startled, she jerked upright and blinked at Rafael as he dropped down onto the sand beside her.

  ‘You fell asleep in the sun,’ he murmured, brushing his lips across hers in a lingering kiss. ‘What’s the matter, querida, did you have a bad dream?’

  She swallowed. ‘Something like that.’

  * * *

  ‘Well, Madre, what is this about?’

  Rafael did not hide his impatience. He didn’t want to be cooling his heels in his mother’s cushion-stuffed sitting room when Juliet was waiting for him in his own apartment. Hopefully she would already be in bed, but if not he would soon take her there.

  An early-morning meeting meant that he’d left for the office before Juliet had woken up. Usually they had sex first thing, and he’d missed it—missed her, if he cared to admit it. Which he did not.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’ Delfina was twisting her hands together and seemed hesitant. ‘When you brought your wife to lunch...it must be three months ago now... I told you
that I was ashamed, and you assumed that I meant I was ashamed of you.’

  ‘An easy assumption to make as you have barely been able to look at me for the past twenty-three years,’ he said sardonically.

  ‘I was ashamed of myself. I am ashamed of what I did to you,’ Delfina whispered. ‘When Juliet accused me of abandoning you, leaving you with your violent father, I saw the condemnation in her eyes and knew I deserved it. I knew what Ivan was like...the monster he was.’

  She sighed.

  ‘I had led a sheltered life and he was dangerously attractive. Within months of running away with him he’d persuaded me to take drugs. It was his way of controlling me, and as my life with him spiralled ever downwards I took more drugs to block out the grim reality of life with him.’

  Delfina dropped her face into her hands.

  ‘I don’t even remember giving birth to you or your sister. I felt half alive. But then one day I saw my father on the television and all I wanted was to go back to my papà, who had always protected me. I took some money out of Ivan’s wallet and somehow I made it back to my family.’

  ‘I was your family,’ Rafael said harshly. ‘Me and Sofia. Your children. And you left us with him.’

  His mother was crying. He had never seen her cry before and he was angry that her tears hurt him. She hadn’t cared about him.

  ‘I was afraid of him.’

  ‘Do you think I wasn’t? You called him a monster and that’s exactly what the man who fathered me was.’ A monster whose blood ran through his veins, Rafael thought, and something bleak and hopeless lashed his heart.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ his mother sobbed. ‘I know you must hate me. I never knew how to try and reach out to you. When Hector brought you here you were so angry. And as you grew older you were cold and hard, and I knew it was my fault that you never smiled with your eyes.’ Delfina took a shaky breath. ‘This girl you’ve married...’

  ‘Juliet,’ Rafael gritted. ‘My wife’s name is Juliet.’

  ‘She is a brave young woman,’ his mother said quietly. ‘She is good for you. She makes you smile.’

  Delfina put her hand on Rafael’s arm. It was the first time they’d had any sort of physical contact since—He frowned, unable to remember a time when his mother had touched him, let alone hugged him, unlike Juliet, who constantly hugged and cuddled her daughter.

  ‘Rafael, I am reaching out now,’ Delfina said in a trembling voice. ‘I cannot expect you to forgive me, but I wish that some day we can be...friends.’

  He should tell his mother to get lost and walk away. A few months ago he probably would have done, Rafael acknowledged. But life was short, as Juliet often said. Juliet, his wife, who had more courage in her tiny body than the tallest giant. Right now he didn’t know if he could forgive his mother, but he found that he didn’t want to walk away, so he placed his hand over Delfina’s and gently squeezed her fingers.

  ‘It’s all right, Madre.’

  * * *

  Juliet did much more than make him smile, Rafael thought, recalling his mother’s words as he entered his apartment. Juliet intrigued him, fascinated him, drove him crazy with her stubbornness and evoked an ache inside him that defied explanation when he watched her with her little daughter. She was an amazing mother and an amazing lover, and if he was a different man he might have hoped for things that he’d long ago accepted he could never have.

  But he could not escape his past. He could not be a different man. So he would settle for having her in his bed, and if the nine months that were left of their marriage seemed not enough—not nearly enough—he would bury that thought and live for the day, which was how he had survived his childhood.

  He found her standing outside on the balcony. She was wearing a simple white dress made of a floaty material that skimmed over her slender figure like gossamer, and her hair was loose, falling down her back like a river of amber silk.

  ‘There you are,’ he said, and there was satisfaction in his voice as he thought of the evening ahead and an early dinner and an early night—not necessarily in that order.

  He waited for her to turn around and give him one of her smiles that lit up her face and did something peculiar to his heart rate.

  But she seemed to stiffen before she swung round, and she didn’t smile. Her eyes were very blue—as blue as the summer sky.

  ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Out of nowhere Rafael felt sick with dread. It was the same feeling he’d had when he was a boy and he’d heard the swish of his father’s belt. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with foreboding.

  ‘So tell me,’ he said evenly, while his heart thudded.

  Juliet lifted a hand and let it fall to her side again. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Silence. So intense it pressed on him. And then a roaring in his ears.

  Every muscle in his body clenched in rejection of something that he knew from her face was true. But he rejected it anyway. ‘You can’t be. We’ve always been careful. Even on the goddamned beach I made sure I had condoms in my pocket.’

  ‘It was before then.’

  She swallowed and he saw her slender throat convulse.

  ‘The test shows that I’m nine weeks.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s more than two months. How didn’t you know before?’

  Not that it mattered, Rafael thought grimly, turning away from her and gripping the balustrade before his legs gave out. Juliet was expecting his baby. Dios. How could he be a father? The son of a monster? He’d decided long ago that his bloodline—the Mendoza bloodline—had to end with him.

  ‘I know it’s not what you had planned,’ she said in a low voice.

  He closed his eyes as her words struck him another blow. What he had planned. A fake marriage so that he could claim the CEO-ship. His arrogance mocked him and he felt ashamed of the ambition that was all he had, all he was.

  He knew what he had to do. For Juliet’s sake and for the child she carried. Especially for the child’s sake.

  ‘No,’ he said unemotionally. ‘A baby was not in my plans nor what I wished for.’

  ‘Here’s a newsflash, Rafael. Your wishes no longer matter.’

  The bite in her voice made him turn his head and he saw anger on her face—and something else...something fiercely protective. A lioness defending her cub, he realised, and admiration joined the swirling mix of emotions he was trying to control.

  ‘Like it or not, I am going to have your baby.’

  He nodded and turned away from her again, to stare unseeingly across the gardens to the sea beyond. When this was done he would go for a run along the beach, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun his demons. They would sit on his shoulders, terrible and ugly, reminding him of why he dared not deal with this situation differently. Why his child and Juliet would be safer without him.

  ‘I will ask my lawyers to begin divorce proceedings,’ he told her flatly. ‘Spanish law allows couples to seek a no-blame divorce after three months of marriage, a fact of which my grandfather is unaware. And I’ll make immediate arrangements for you and Poppy to return to England. Ferndown House will be made over to you and five million pounds transferred into your bank account as per our agreement. I will also make further provision for Poppy and the child you are carrying.’

  ‘Your child,’ Juliet said fiercely. ‘I am carrying your child.’

  Rafael felt the glare she sent him but he didn’t look at her, and after a moment she gave a heavy sigh.

  ‘You know we can’t divorce until we have been married for a year—your grandfather insisted on that before he will make you CEO.’

  ‘Then I won’t be CEO.’

  If he allowed her to live at the Casillas mansion until their first wedding anniversary he would see her body change as her pregnancy progressed and he’d be tempted to hope for a miracle. If she was already
two months pregnant the child would be born seven months from now, but their marriage had nine months to run, which meant that some sort of involvement with his child would be unavoidable. He couldn’t risk it.

  Juliet’s silence compelled Rafael to look at her. He watched the tears roll down her face and hardened his heart. She would never know how much it was costing him to send her away. He was only just starting to realise that despite his best efforts to avoid this kind of situation, this level of pain, he had been reckless when he’d allowed Juliet close. All he could do now was try to limit the damage.

  ‘Do you hate the idea of having a child so much that you’re willing to give up your claim to be your grandfather’s successor and head of the Casillas Group?’

  Juliet stared at him, and when she spoke again her voice was cold—as cold as the ice around his heart.

  ‘In that case the baby will be better off without any father rather than growing up with a father who does not love him.’

  Rafael’s jaw clenched and despite himself he was curious. ‘Him? You know it’s a boy?’

  ‘It’s too early for a scan to show the baby’s gender, but I am sure I’m having a boy.’ She reached out her hand towards him and let it fall again. ‘Rafael... It doesn’t have to be like this. I understand if you don’t want me. That you might feel trapped—’ Her voice cracked. ‘But your son needs his father.’

  ‘And what if I am my father’s son?’ he said harshly. ‘No child needs a father like mine.’

  He saw shock on Juliet’s face, confusion. The wounded expression in her eyes felt like an arrow through Rafael’s heart. He did not trust himself to be near her and without another word he walked away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JULIET CURLED UP in a tight ball in the bed that was much too big for her alone and cried until her head hurt and her eyes burned. Some time around dawn she slept fitfully, and when she woke she cried again because Rafael’s head wasn’t on the pillow beside her, He wasn’t there to greet her with a smile that promised it would be another beautiful day.