‘She did what she had to do,’ he echoed derisively. ‘And left you to face the consequences while she ran away to be with her lover. And yet still you defend her. Still you fight her corner.’
‘She’s my sister.’
‘Only your half-sister.’
‘But family—and you know how important that is.’
‘On the contrary …’
Alexa would have sworn that it was impossible for Santos’s tone to become any colder, but she could practically see the ice forming on the words as he spoke them, feel the chill of his tone sear across her exposed skin.
‘I’m afraid I do not share your belief in the importance of family. It is a concept that I consider to be highly overrated.’
‘Another one! First love and now the family. You really are a cold-hearted bastard, aren’t you?’
Just for a moment something flickered deep in his eyes. Then another blink of those heavy, hooded lids and it was gone. But it had been flashing, savage, dangerous. A look that warned her she had stepped too far over some invisible line that she wasn’t aware of him having drawn on the ground between them.
Belatedly, she realised that she hadn’t seen anyone who might have been his family on his side of the church. Had she blundered badly, stepping heavily on his toes, or was there something about his family that she had just not known? Something that gave a reason why they would not turn up at Santos’s wedding. Her father had told her little about this man he had gone into business with, other than that he was a self-made billionaire, wealthy beyond anyone’s imagining. And he had made that wealth by taking no prisoners.
‘I am indeed a bastard,’ he drawled silkily. ‘As I am sure you are only too aware.’
‘No—I …’
Oh, dear heaven, she’d made a mess of things there. Did he really believe, as his tone implied, that she might have encouraged Natalie to back out because he was illegitimate?
‘And as to a family, then that was what I believed I was getting with your sister—a future family.’
Alexa hadn’t been aware of having moved, but somehow her back was right up against the wall, both physically and mentally. Hastily she tried to recover lost ground.
‘Look—Nat only did what I told her to.’
If his eyes had been cold before, they were pure ice now.
‘You told her to run out on the marriage? What gave you the right to interfere?’
‘She didn’t love you!’
‘Ah, yes, love—that word that seems so incredibly important to you.’
‘It’s more than a word,’ Alexa protested. ‘It’s vital to life. Look, Natalie and I may only share a father, but she’s still my baby sister. I was just five when she was born and she was not quite a day old when my dad put her into my arms.’
She’d fallen in love with Natalie right then and there and had vowed that if ever her sister needed anything she would be there. That she would protect her, keep her safe from harm. She’d kept to that vow for nearly twenty-one years.
‘I couldn’t let you make her unhappy!’
Thoughts of family gave her conscience a much needed nudge.
‘I really should go and find my father—find out how Petra is doing. Do you know where they are?’
‘You won’t find them. They left half an hour ago.’
‘They left? Then things have cleared outside? The paparazzi have gone …?’
The hopeful question faded as Santos shook his head emphatically.
‘I sent them home in a car. Security will have got them through the crowd outside, but no, the Press pack has not gone.’
‘If they’ve not gone, then why expose my father and Petra to their demands? You sent them out to face that mob …’
‘I didn’t want them here.’
Santos’s total indifference was truly shocking.
‘The Press won’t be interested in your parents any more. They know now that the wedding never took place and so they guess that the real story is in here, not with them.’
Suddenly, to her complete shock and disbelief, he turned on that devastating smile, the one that left her weak at the knees, and made her heart thud unevenly.
‘It’s you they’ll want to know about now.’
‘Me? Why would they want to know anything about me?’
‘They know that you went into the church instead of Natalie. They also saw you come out again with me. They’ll want to know why the marriage never took place. And just what part you played in all of it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘ME?’
He couldn’t really mean that—could he?
She had thought she knew exactly why Santos had determined on holding the reception in spite of the fact that there had been no marriage to celebrate. Ruthless pride had kept him holding his head high, refusing to admit that anything had gone wrong at all. The man who didn’t give a damn that he was nicknamed the brigand was also determined that no one should think he gave a damn about what had happened today.
He had told her straight out that his planned marriage to Natalie had been nothing but a marriage of convenience but he would still show the world how little he cared for his bride’s defection by carrying on with the party without her. But surely it must be every bit as much of an endurance test for him as it was for her, with everyone’s eyes on them, every move he made being observed and commented on.
Her disbelieving question was dismissed by another of those disarming smiles that lit his face so vividly, yet somehow managed not to reach his eyes, which remained as coldly distant and assessing as in the first moment she had met him. But even as her mind shivered in the glare of that ice-clear gaze, other, more vulnerable, more instinctual, more female parts of her were responding mindlessly to the power of that smile.
Just a curve of the lips, nothing more, and yet it warmed her deep inside, had her heart beating quicker, heat spreading right through her, melting, softening, pulsing downwards. Never before had her rational self and the unthinking, instinctive part of her been so much at war, so totally distant and on opposite sides of the fence. She knew that her sensible self should be the stronger, winning any argument without a problem, but right now it was the irrational, totally emotional—totally sensual—side that was winning…
She could tell herself that she was just imagining things. That no man could have such an instant and potent effect on her in such a short space of time. She could say it over and over again, trying to drill it into her stupid head, but even when she thought she’d succeeded, then the aching gap that yearned after Santos refused to be erased, hungering after one more glance from those brilliant eyes, the sound of his gorgeously accented voice, another of those devastating smiles.
‘I thought we agreed not to waste the reception that had already been prepared.’
‘We didn’t agree on anything—you decreed it would be that way.’
‘So if I asked you to dance, you would say no?’
‘Dance?’
Was the man crazy? Did he really plan on dancing at this wake for his wedding?
As if on cue, the sound of music started up in the next room and as she blinked in confusion Santos held his hand out to her, palm upwards, ready to take hers.
‘I hired musicians too,’ he said with a faint twist to his beautiful mouth. ‘I don’t plan on wasting them, either. Dance with me, Alexa.’
‘I—can’t …’
‘Can’t?’ His tone made it plain that he found her response impossible to understand. ‘Or won’t?’
The hand he had held out still hung between them, strong fingers splayed, the width of his palm tempting her to put her hand into it and feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscle underneath her own fingertips. Her hand twitched at her side, fighting against the sensual need to do just that and, hidden by the fall of her dress, her fingers clenched into a tight fist until her nails dug into her palm, the closest she could come to a much needed pinch to reassert reality, tell herself that she was
not dreaming. This really was happening.
The day had been so totally different from the way she had expected it to go from the moment that she had got up that morning that she could almost believe she had done something like Alice and stepped through the looking glass into a new and completely unexpected world, where everything was back to front and upside down and she couldn’t begin to find her way through anything or try to understand it.
‘I shouldn’t!’
‘And why not?’
His voice had sharpened on the question, putting a sting into it that made her wince.
‘You’re supposed to start the dancing with your bride—your wife!’
‘But my bride is thousands of miles away. Tell me something …’
His tone had changed abruptly as he took a couple of sharp, swift steps towards her, letting his hand fall back down again until it rested on the fine leather belt that encircled his narrow waist. And it was only when she saw it drop that Alexa could acknowledge the sting of disappointment that his movement brought, the way that she had really wanted to take his hand, feel its warm strength curl around her.
‘If this were not my wedding day—if we had met some other day, some other time and I had asked you to dance—would you say yes? If this was a party at which we had just met, would you dance with me then?’
Of course I would.
The words flew into Alexa’s mind so fast and so clearly that she actually felt she might have spoken them aloud, or at least that they had sounded in the air so that Santos could hear them. Hastily she closed her eyes, fearful that he might be able to read her thoughts in her eyes and so know how hard and how fast she had fallen under his seductive spell.
‘Would you?’
He was so close now that he only needed to murmur the question for her to hear it, and his breath stirred the wayward strands of her hair at her ear and temple as he bent his proud head towards hers. The scent of his body tormented her senses, making her think of the hard reality of the flesh and muscle concealed underneath the elegant, tailored clothing.
‘Alexa, tell me …’
‘Yes—yes, I would.’
‘Then come …’
Once more that hand was under her nose but this time it was making an autocratic gesture, not enticing her to give way.
‘Why fight?’ he continued when still she hesitated. ‘There is no need.’
Why fight? Alexa was asking herself the same question. The problem was that she didn’t really know who she was fighting. Santos? Or herself?
She had little doubt that this was just a passing thing. That Santos was merely looking for a distraction. Something to divert his mind from the fact that he had been jilted at the altar. Even if he was truly as indifferent to things as he claimed, the public rejection had to sting his male pride if nothing else. And so he wanted something to take his mind off it. Someone to take his mind off it.
And she happened to be the nearest person.
But if she was honest then she didn’t care if that was all it was, if it meant that she could have this evening. And that she could be with Santos for tonight.
‘All right,’ she said slowly, still not quite believing what was happening. Not at all sure where this would lead. Only knowing that she would always regret it if she turned Santos down right now. ‘All right—let’s dance.’
When Santos took her hand in his and she felt the warmth and strength of his fingers close around hers, the little excited judder that her heart gave in her breast told her that she had made the right decision. The decision that put a fizz of exhilaration into her veins and made her breath catch in anticipation of what was to come.
Even if at the end of the day when the clock struck midnight her coach would turn back into a pumpkin, her clothes into rags and she would have to run back home, tonight Cinderella would go to the ball. Tonight she would dance with the prince and if at midnight it all came to an end and proved to be the fantasy she deep down knew that it was then at least she would have had tonight.
‘Let’s dance,’ Santos agreed and a rich note of satisfaction ran through the words, deepening his exotic accent and turning the words into a tiger’s purr of pleasure. One that made her blood run thick with sensual reaction.
She even forgot about the way that her feet ached, the way the straps of her shoes dug into her skin as she walked beside him through the wide, marble-floored hall, heading towards the sound of the music.
But as they passed the big wooden doors leading outside, she saw how they were flung open and at the bottom of the short flight of steps a big, sleek limousine was drawn up, engine idling, waiting for some guest who was leaving early.
Seeing it, she slowed her footsteps, her mood altering subtly. Outside the darkness was gathering, the growing shadows of the evening reminding her that this strange, unbelievable day, in which nothing had gone the way she had expected it, was starting to come to a close. And she couldn’t forget that somewhere out there, in the sanctuary of their hotel room, her father and Petra would be feeling the aftermath of the day’s events just as she had been doing.
And, charming or not, Santos was still the ruthless creature who had earned his notorious nickname. The man whose connections with her father had turned Stanley Montague into a shadow of the man he had once been.
‘Alexandra?’
Santos had sensed her change of mood, the way that her steps were dragging. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, not turning, his powerful body still positioned in a way that declared his intention of moving on just as soon as he could.
‘Perhaps I should go back.’
‘No.’
‘But I should find out how my dad is …’
‘No!’
It was far more emphatic this time, for all that he hadn’t raised his voice above a conversational tone.
‘You will not leave.’
‘But Santos, I really think I should. So if you could just arrange for a car to be …’
She broke off in shock as she saw the fierce shake of his dark head, the obdurate set to the beautiful mouth, all trace of softness driven from it by the way it was clamped tight, the tautness of every muscle in his jaw.
‘There will be no car.’
‘Oh but surely you have more than one …’ Alexa began to protest, the word dying on a gasp of shock as she realised what he had said.
Not there isn’t another car. But there will be no car. He wasn’t just saying that it would be difficult to provide transport for her but that he wasn’t prepared to.
‘What do you mean, no car?’
Digging in her heels both mentally and physically, she refused to move, trying to tug her hand free when it seemed that he would march on, taking her with him. But although Santos too slowed to a halt, his grip on her hand tightened so that she couldn’t free herself. ‘You can’t keep me here!’
‘I thought that you wanted to stay.’
His voice was soft but there was a hint of steel threaded through it, and something in his eyes sent a warning that made her shiver. Did she want to stay? A moment ago she had been so sure. Now she was forced to wonder …
‘I think perhaps—’
‘I think perhaps not,’ Santos cut in, not letting her complete the sentence. ‘They didn’t ask you to go with them. So you have no need to leave—not until I say so.’
But that was just too much, and hearing the arrogant declaration, Alexa brought up her head, eyes widening as she glared her defiance into his handsome face.
‘What gives you the right to say when I can come and go?’
No, he’d made a wrong move there, taken the wrong tone with her, Santos told himself. She was not going to let him get away with that. An unexpected sense of admiration tugged at his mind as he acknowledged the glare of defiance in her eyes, the way her head had gone back. If he was not careful he would lose her and he didn’t want to let her get away, not until he was sure that she was his. Right now she looked like a nervous mare, one of t
he thoroughbreds he bred at his stud, when something had spooked her. Even her nostrils flared.
He was going to have more of a challenge with this sister than he had ever expected. And the truth was that he liked the idea of that. He anticipated the prospect of having to work to win her over. She was already so much more intriguing than her sister. The end result would be worth the effort.
‘It’s not that I have the right.’
The faint twitch of Santos’s mouth at the corners was either amusement or an admiring acknowledgement of her boldness in defying him, Alexa couldn’t decide which.
‘Maybe I’m not ready to let you go.’
Which was so far from the response that she had expected that it had her gaping in stunned silence, unable to believe that she had heard him right. Had he really said …?
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I told you. You’re here because I want you here.’
And he always got what he wanted. But why did he want her here? What did he want from her?
‘So you stay until I say you can go.’
And with a sudden movement he reached out and kicked the door closed, shutting off the way out and shutting her in with him. But even as the heavy wood slammed into place, that smile was still there, curving his lips, warming his eyes unexpectedly.
‘Come, now, Alexa,’ he mocked when he heard her gasp of shocked horror. ‘What do you think that I am going to do to you? Ravish you right here on the floor in front of all my guests?’
The hand that held hers moved slightly, twisting until his thumb was curved into her palm, smoothing the sensitive skin with a gentle touch. A touch that sent pulses of fire prickling like an electrical current along every nerve.
‘I am simply asking you to stay—to dance with me—to share the evening with me.’
I’m not ready to let you go … The words that she still couldn’t quite believe that Santos had actually spoken—to her—swung round and round in her head until she felt dizzy just to think of them.
You’re here because I want you here.
His Suitable Bride Page 38
