by Donna Vitek
"You didn't really choose to though, did you, Raul?" she whispered tremulously. "If your grandmother hadn't…"
"Be quiet," he commanded softly, halting her words with a kiss as gentle as a breeze. "Abuela isn't forcing me to marry you. She couldn't if I didn't want you."
"You want me physically," Juliet muttered bleakly. "But Raul, that isn't…"
"I want you, Juliet, and you want me," he reiterated huskily, passion blazing in his eyes. He clasped the back of her head in one lean hand, tangling his long fingers in her hair, holding her fast. His mouth descended to play teasingly, evocatively with her lips and between tantalizing kisses, he whispered, "You do want me too, don't you, Juliet?"
As the tip of his tongue touched first one corner of her mouth, then the other, she trembled and whispered back breathlessly, "Yes, oh, yes, Raul, I do want you. You know that but…"
"Hush, Juliet, or I'll take you to my room and keep you there all night with me," he threatened, his voice deep and convincingly uneven as his hands explored the enticing curves of her body, conveying a dangerous urgency. "You must know that's what I want to do. Dios, I need you! And if making love to you is the only way I can stop you from arguing, then…"
He didn't finish his warning in words nor did he need to. As he widened his stance and hauled her firmly against him, she was made overwhelmingly aware of his obvious desire to possess her. Apprehension was suddenly overcome with delight as his hardening lips tugged her mouth open. She pressed against him entwining her arms around his neck as his hands burned her skin through the thin fabric of her gown. Slipping her fingers beneath the open collar of his shirt, she traced the strong contours of his neck and shoulders, delighting in the feel of his skin, tautly smooth over his collarbone. Then, somehow, his shirt was unbuttoned and her hands were brushing over his hair-roughened chest, exploring his warm strength, her fingertips stroking over the flat hardness of his stomach.
Her tentative yet evocative touch sent a shudder over him. With a soft groan, he tightened his arms around her slenderness, lifting her up against him until the tips of her toes barely brushed the cool tiles. Her cushioned breasts yielded to the muscular firmness of his chest and as he pushed aside the cord straps of her gown, his lips brushed downward from her shoulder to seek the satiny outcurving of heated flesh. As his breath caressed the scented hollow between her breasts, Juliet moaned softly. Her head fell back against his forearm around her shoulders as he pressed burning, searching kisses over her creamy throat and the fragile line of her jaw. Then his mouth covered hers again, possessively hard and seeming to demand complete surrender.
And she was eager to surrender. The aching emptiness within her intensified with the electric touch of his hands and the taking power of his mouth. Yet as her lithe young body became bonelessly acquiescent, molding with warm fluidity against his, he abruptly dragged her arms from around his neck and put her from him. The glittering passion in his eyes impaled the dreamy softness of her own and his breathing was uneven as he shook his head. "Not yet, querida," he murmured huskily, stilling her hands as they brushed over his bare chest. "I want you but we'll be married in less than a week and I think you would really rather wait until then." Smiling then, he put one arm around her waist, guiding her back into her bedroom. "Come along. I'll prove to you what self-discipline I have. I'll tuck you into bed, then go to my own room."
As he proceeded to pull the covers farther down, then lifted her gently into his arms to lay her on the bed, Juliet couldn't drag her bemused gaze away from him. When he covered her with the sheet, she put her hands over his and pressed them down on her shoulders. "Raul, I want…"
Leaning down, he silenced her with a slow rousing kiss but as her parted lips clung eagerly to his, he straightened again to give her a lazy smile. "Temptress," he whispered, his heavy lidded eyes traveling over the length of her body outlined against the thin sheet. "You don't make it at all easy for me to show you how disciplined I can be." When she started to speak again, he shook his head. "Good night, querida."
Then he was gone and it was several minutes after she had heard his footfalls recede on the balcony tiles that she realized he had once again thwarted her weak argument against marrying him.
Late the next morning,. Juliet and Pilar sat on the shaded, flower scented veranda, watching Raul and Manuel play kickball with Fredrico on the lawn. Seeing once again how gentle and affectionate Raul was with the child, Juliet gazed at him longingly, then breathed a soft involuntary sigh.
Turning to stare at her, Pilar sat up straighter. "Are you not happy, Juliet?" she asked softly. "Forgive me for mentioning it but I have noticed a sadness in your eyes sometimes. It has worried me."
After taking a small sip of iced lime juice, Juliet smiled faintly and shook her head. "I don't want you to think you have anything to worry about. I'm fine, really."
"But also a little sad?"
"Maybe."
"But why, Juliet?" Pilar exclaimed softly, gesturing with a slender hand toward Raul. "You are about to marry a fine man. So why should you feel sad about anything?"
"Maybe if he wasn't such a fine man, I wouldn't be sad," Juliet replied cryptically, smiling weakly at Pilar's confused expression. "What I mean is: if Raul wasn't so wonderful, then it wouldn't matter to me that he doesn't love me."
"You don't think he loves you? I don't understand. If he doesn't love you, then why are you getting married next week?"
On impulse, Juliet told her the truth. When she had finished, she shrugged resignedly. "So Raul's marrying me simply because his grandmother overreacted to what she saw in my bedroom that morning. Not a very good reason to get married, is it?"
"It's better than the reason Manuel and I had," Pilar stated flatly. "At least you and Raul know there's an intense physical attraction between you. Manuel and I didn't know each other well enough to know that. Our marriage was something of a family arrangement."
"An arranged marriage?" Juliet exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You must be joking! The two of you seem so happy together! I know you must love each other."
"We do—now," Pilar said, smiling reminiscently. "But at first we were practically strangers and believe me, I was a very nervous bride."
"Then why did you marry him? I just can't see you consenting to an arranged marriage."
Pilar's black eyes sparkled merrily. "Well, if I hadn't liked him just a little, I would have refused, of course. You see, our families had business ties. So when my father asked me simply to meet Manuel and get to know him, I agreed. To make a long story short, I was intrigued with Manuel from the beginning but we had no chance to get acquainted because my great aunt Theresa appointed herself my duenna and never left us alone together for a minute. I guess we really got married on pure instinct since Manual wasn't even allowed to kiss me good night until after we were officially betrothed. And one kiss a day from a man doesn't tell you much about him."
Juliet was still shaking her head disbelievingly. "I never would have imagined your marriage was arranged."
"Well, it was," Pilar declared, touching Juliet's arm supportively. "So now you know why your marriage to Raul has a better chance of succeeding than mine did."
"Maybe, but I'm not so sure of that," Juliet murmured doubtingly. "I mean, both you and Manuel are Spanish. Maybe you and he can relate to each other in a way Raul and I never can since I'm American."
"I don't believe that will make any difference," Pilar argued gently. "You and Raul seem made for each other to me. So just be patient. Love will come." As Juliet glanced away, chewing pensively on her lower lip, Pilar gave a sudden knowing smile. "So, it's as I suspected— you love him already."
Seeing no point in lying, Juliet nodded. "Un-fortunately, the feeling isn't mutual. Raul isn't in love with me,"
"That doesn't mean he never will be. Be patient, Juliet, and show him you love him," Pilar advised softly. "He's fond of you, I can see that. Give him time and I know he'll begin to love you."
"I'm sure you really believe that," Juliet murmured, a smile trembling on her lips. "Now, if only I could make myself believe it too…"
Later that Sunday afternoon, Pilar hugged Juliet briefly as they said good-bye beside Raul's car. "I am sorry we won't be able to attend the wedding but my doctor doesn't want me traveling far in these last weeks."
Nodding understandingly, Juliet lifted Fredrico up into her arms to give him a farewell kiss. His warm little body snuggled close to her, wrapping his arms around her neck, reluctant to give up his new friend until at last Manuel persuaded him to release her.
After both she and Raul expressed their thanks for the peaceful weekend, they got into his BMW but before they could say a last goodbye and drive away, Pilar stepped closer to Juliet's opened window, grinning as she looked in, "I have only one bit of marital advice to give you," she quipped, laying one hand on her burgeoning abdomen. "Never, ever be eight months pregnant in the summer, Juliet, unless you want to feel the way I do right now—like a hot air balloon."
"I'll try to remember that," Juliet answered, laughing and waving back over her shoulder as Raul slowly drove away from the gracious hacienda-style house. He didn't speak until he had turned onto the coastal highway a few minutes later. Then, resting his right arm across the back of Juliet's seat, he brushed his fingertips along her shoulder, giving her a slow lazy smile when she looked at him. "Pilar's advice reminded me that we've never really discussed having children. So, would you like to have children some day, Juliet?"
Nodding, she swallowed with difficulty, the mere thought of having his child making her breath catch. "Yes, I think I'd like to have children. W—would you?"
"Of course," he said, his voice appealingly low. "I like children."
She was unable to meet his darkening gaze as he glanced from the road to her again. "I know you like them but—maybe you're forgetting that we might have a baby with red hair and light skin."
"So? We also might have a baby with dark hair and dark skin. Will it bother you if our children look like me?"
"No! Of course not but…"
"Then why should it bother me if they look like you? After all, they will be your children too," he said, smiling endearingly so she could only nod in agreement, unable to argue that irrefutable fact.
Chapter Twelve
Six days later, on the eve of their wedding, Juliet hesitated outside Raul's bedroom door. Coming to see him was an act of desperation, a last resort, one that she wished wholeheartedly she could avoid. Yet, she had little choice. All her efforts to convince Dona Alicia that tomorrow's forced wedding was unnecessary had met with the argument that, even if Juliet was still an innocent, Jimena Ruiz was a notorious gossip. She would tell everyone what she had witnessed and Juliet's reputation would be ruined and Raul's honor besmirched if they didn't marry now. And Juliet found it was pointless to even think of talking to Uncle Will; in his ignorance of the real reason for the wedding, he was ecstatic. Under any other circumstances, Juliet would have been ecstatic too; she loved Raul and she ached to be his wife, but not like this. Feeling he had been forced to marry her for the sake of propriety and the family honor, he would resent her, perhaps even hate her. He would be miserable and she would be devastated. So something had to be done tonight. She had to convince him to refuse to marry her tomorrow; it was the only sensible answer. She was terrified that if he only married her because he felt it was the gentlemanly thing to do, both their lives would be ruined. As if she couldn't see her own life crumbling to dust before her very eyes already…
Drawing a deep tremulous breath, she gathered all her courage and made herself knock lightly on the dark carved door to Raul's room. There was no immediate response, but knowing he was home tonight and must be in there, she knocked again. A few seconds later, the door was pulled open and surprise flickered in Raul's eyes when he found her standing on the threshold, clenching her hands together in front of her.
"Juliet," he said sleepily, rubbing his hand across his brown hair-roughened chest. "It's late."
"I know. I'm sorry but I had to wake you," she murmured the apology, trying to ignore the fact that he was clad only in navy pajama pants that hung low on his lean hips. It wasn't that easy to ignore his appearance however, and though she had worn a thick robe to come see him, she involuntarily tugged it more snugly around her. Then her hand fluttered out in an uncertain gesture. "We have to talk, Raul. Could—could I come in?"
Although he seemed reluctant to let her, he finally nodded and indicated she should precede him inside. Never having been inside the master suite before, she glanced curiously around the sitting room, impressed by the warm comfortable atmosphere. Her gaze lingered on the royal blue winged armchair and the round table beside it on which sat a lamp and several books, one of which was open. It was fairly obvious that Raul spent some of his leisure time here and before she could allow herself to wonder what his bedroom was like, she turned to him, chewing her lower lip nervously. He was watching her intently and when he made no suggestion that she should sit down, she took one hesitant step toward him.
"Raul, we have to call this off," she declared rather imploringly. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days but you—you've always stopped me. Still, I know you can't be happy about this situation so that's why I came. This is all so crazy. We can't get married simply because your grandmother found us—in bed together and jumped to the wrong conclusion. You have to tell her you simply won't marry me."
As he lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, then exhaled the smoke, his eyes never left her and there was a somewhat brooding expression in them. "The plans are all made, Juliet," he said, his voice low and melodious. "We can't call them off now. Your uncle and my grandmother are very excited about the wedding tomorrow and it will take place, exactly on schedule."
"But you don't want to marry me. I know you don't," she murmured, uncertain whether she was relieved or disappointed that he hadn't jumped at the chance of escape she had offered. Thoroughly confused by her own ambiguous feelings, she bent her head and sighed. "And I don't want to get married this way. What chance will we have to be happy? Raul, we have to tell them we can't go through with it."
"Oh, I think not," he answered calmly. "Accept it, Juliet. We are getting married tomorrow." As if bored by the entire conversation, he walked to her, cupped her elbow in one hand, and guided her toward the door. Then when she suddenly found herself in the hall, he added, "I suggest you go to bed and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day and you'll need to be well-rested. Good night."
"But Raul, we…" As he closed the door firmly on her attempted protest, she could hardly believe it. He was taking this so calmly, without even trying to resist a loveless marriage that would cost him his freedom. Was he that much an Old World Spaniard? Were the old traditions so inbred in him that a strong sense of propriety overshadowed his own personal desires?
Feeling quite numb by now and cold, Juliet shivered as she made her way back to her own room. Too tired to really think coherently, she took Raul's advice and went to bed but sleep was a long time coming.
The wedding was held in a tiny white chapel in the small village near the casa and the actual ceremony was so brief that she felt she hardly had time to catch her breath before it was over and she and Raul were married. Since only relatives and close friends had been invited, she found it fairly simple to smile and get by with letting the entire event pass over her as if it were a dream. The wedding supper that followed at the grande sala at the casa was a different matter altogether.
She felt like such a fraud. There seemed to be hoards of people to be received, all of whom naturally assumed she and Raul were the typical bride and groom and their compliments and congratulations couldn't be ignored. The first few expressed felicitations made her feel like a terrible fake but, beside her in the receiving line in his black Oxford coat, matching trousers and white waistcoat over a white shirt, Raul seemed so at ease that she began to relax somewhat herself. At least she looked l
ike the typical bride, she tried to remind herself. The slight blush in her cheeks was attractively highlighted by the long yet simply elegant ivory silk gown she wore and by the heirloom lace mantilla that framed her small face, which had been worn by Valaquez brides for several succeeding generations.
At last the repast began and after the traditional toasts to the bride and groom, Juliet tried to show some interest in the various courses of the delicious supper but everything seemed to have the taste and texture of sawdust in her dry mouth. Everyone else was having such a joyous time but, while she accepted the marriage as an accomplished fact, now she had come to the breathtaking realization that this was her wedding night. A very different sort of nervousness mushroomed and she found herself often staring at Raul, worrying about how gentle a lover he would be, considering the fact that he believed her to be sexually experienced. Such thoughts played havoc with her emotions so she was eternally grateful for Holly and Benny's arrival after the supper was over because seeing them temporarily took her mind off the hours to come.
They arrived late because Holly had only been released from the hospital that afternoon. With them, they brought the baby, all dolled up in a tiny pink dress and matching booties, looking much less like a gnome than she did when she cried. Having never held her, Juliet couldn't resist taking her in her arms, despite Holly's warning that her wedding gown might get drooled on.
Supporting the tiny dark-haired head in the crook of her arm, Juliet rocked the baby gently, then smiled up at Holly. "She really is lovely. Have you decided what to name her yet? You can't go on calling her 'the baby' forever."
"Oh, she has a name," Benny answered with a secretive smile. "We toyed around with the idea of naming her after my mother or Holly's but then we decided she should be named after you. So, she's Juliet."
