“You’ve never loved anyone in your life,” he said coldly.
Kay’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand, Damian. I’m back. Whatever little trap my dear sister sprang on you has no meaning now.”
Ivy stiffened. “I didn’t—”
“Hush, glyka mou. There’s no need to explain. Kay and I never had marriage plans.”
“We certainly did!”
“We did not. You had plans, Kay, the first time you told me you were pregnant.” Damian’s voice turned even more frigid. “It was a lie.”
“It wasn’t. My doctor—”
“I’ve seen your doctor. You were never pregnant. And you and I never discussed artificial insemination.”
“That’s all in the past. I’m pregnant now. I mean, Ivy is. With…” Her eyes flashed to Ivy. “With your child and mine. She did tell you that, Damian, didn’t she? That she’s carrying your baby? My baby?”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Ivy carries my son.” He put his hand on Ivy’s round belly. “Our son. Hers and mine.”
Kay’s face paled. “What do you mean? Ivy? What did you—”
“Nothing,” Ivy said desperately. “But I will. I will! Kay, you can’t just come back after all this time and—and—”
“I can,” Kay said fiercely. “I have. And I want what’s mine.”
“Biology doesn’t make for motherhood,” Damian snapped. “You were alive, yet you didn’t see fit to tell me that you were. You didn’t see fit to tell Ivy, even though you knew she was pregnant.” His mouth twisted. “You have given up any right to this child.”
“I’ve given up nothing! Not you. Not the baby. And nothing you say or do will change that.”
Damian touched Ivy’s cheek with a gentle hand. Then he stepped away from her and walked slowly toward Kay.
“I am not a fifteen-year-old girl,” he said softly. “I am not a frightened child who will bend to your will. Your lies cannot make me think you are anything more than you are. An evil, selfish woman.”
“Ah.” Kay laughed. “So, she told you her sad story, hmm? About how the big, bad man molested her?” Her smile vanished; she shot Ivy a look of pure evil. “Liar! Why not tell him the truth? That you were a seductive little bitch—”
“Watch your mouth,” Damian snarled.
“A seductive little piece of tail.” She whirled toward Damian. “It’s the truth and she knows it. First she seduced my father—”
“No!” Ivy shook her head. “Kay. You know I never—”
“Seduced him. Batted her lashes. Crept into his lap. Told him how much she loved him—”
“I did love him! I was a little girl—”
“And then he died. Her mother died. They put us in foster care and she stole money.”
“I didn’t steal anything! Kay, I beg you, don’t do this!”
“I got out as soon as I hit eighteen. And my dear stepsister lucked out. They put her in another home with a man like my father. And when the poor bastard finally took what she’d been waving under his nose—”
“Paliogyneko!” Damian grabbed Kay’s arm and jerked her forward. “Get out! Get the hell out of my home. If I ever see you again, I’ll—”
“My God, you bought her story! She told you he raped her. And you believed it!”
“Kay,” Ivy pleaded, “stop! We’re sisters. I always loved you—”
“Stepsisters. And your supposed love doesn’t mean a thing to me.” Kay spun toward Damian. “What else did she tell you? That she’s been scared of sex ever since?” She threw back her head and laughed. “Look at her, Damian. Think about the life she’s led. She moves in a world where people trade in flesh. Where women sell cars by making men get hard-ons. Do you really think my dear stepsister is a sweet portrait of virtue?”
Ivy shook her head. “Damian. Don’t listen to her. I’ve never—”
“You want to know what a good, kind little innocent my stepsister is?” Kay flashed a vicious smile. “That baby in her belly?”
“Kay. Oh, please, please, please, Kay, don’t do this!”
“You remember that charge at Tiffany? That I let you think was mine? It wasn’t. I spent it on her. On Ivy. She wanted a necklace. Diamonds. Rubies. I bought it for her.”
“Damian. God, she’s lying!”
“It was the price for the baby.” Kay paused, threw a triumphant look at Ivy, then turned back to Damian. “Because, you see, she’s right. I did lie, darling. That baby inside her? It’s yours, all right…but it’s yours and Ivy’s.”
Ivy swung toward Damian, saw the color leach from his face.
“What?” he said, his voice a husky rasp.
“I found out I couldn’t use my own eggs. So I said, Ivy, let me use yours. And she said—”
“Damian. Listen to me. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t—”
“I said, how about letting me put my lover’s sperm inside you? How about conceiving a baby for me? And she said, is he rich? And I said, yes, he’s a royal. And she said, how much can you get out of him? And I said, well, I couldn’t come right out and ask for money but I could buy her something she wanted, and she said, how about this necklace at Tiffany? And that was enough until she thought I was dead and she figured, hey, no more middleman. I can collect all the bucks, marry Kay’s prince and live the life I’ve always wanted.”
Ivy saw the horror in Damian’s face. She turned and ran.
No footsteps came after her.
No footsteps. No Damian. Kay’s story was a hideous blend of truth and lies and he’d believed it.
She raced through the vast rooms of the ancient palace, through the entry hall. Esias called to her but she ran past him, out the door, down the steps, along the road that led to the airstrip, her breath sobbing in her throat.
“Ivy!”
She heard the footsteps now. Heard Damian’s voice and knew she could not face him. She hadn’t told him the final truth for just this reason, because she’d feared what she’d see in his eyes, a look that asked how a woman could agree to conceive a baby and give it up.
“Ivy!”
Weeping, she ran faster. A high-heeled sandal fell off and she kicked away the other one, felt the gravel cutting her flesh and knew the pain of that was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
“Ivy, damn it…”
Hard arms closed around her.
“No,” she shouted. “No, Damian, don’t—”
He swung her toward her, his face harsh and angular in the moonlight.
“Ivy,” he said—and kissed her.
Kissed her and kissed her, and at first she fought him and then, oh then, she sobbed his name and leaned into him, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the love in her heart.
“Glyka mou,” he said, his voice shaky, “where were you going?”
“Away. From here. From you. From all the lies—”
He caught her face in his hands, kissed her again and again.
“I love you,” he said, “and you love me. Those are not lies.”
“How can you love me now that you know—”
“Don’t you remember what I said this afternoon? That you would tell me your last secret and I would tell you I loved you? That I would love you forever?”
“But the baby—”
“Our baby,” he said, a smile lighting his face. “Truly our baby, sweetheart, neh?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. Our baby, Damian. It’s always been ours.”
“You did it out of love for Kay.”
She nodded. “Yes. No. I thought I did it for her—but I did it for me, too. I was sure I would never marry. Never have sex. Never have children. And I thought, if I do this, if I have this baby, I’ll be its aunt. And its mother. In my heart, I’ll always be its mother, even if the baby never knows.”
“Sweetheart. You’re trembling.” Damian stripped off his jacket and wrapped her in it. “Come back to the palace.”
“No. Not until I’ve told you everything.” Ivy took a d
eep breath. “So—so I let Kay—I let her do the procedure. And it took. I missed my very next period—” Her voice broke. “And that was when I knew I’d made a terrible mistake, that I would never be able to give away the baby.” Her hand went to her belly. “My baby.”
“And mine,” Damian said softly.
Ivy nodded. “My baby, and yours. I called Kay. I told her. I said she had to tell you the truth. She said it was too late, that we’d made a bargain. I said I would never give up the baby. And then—and then—”
“And then,” he said gently, “you thought she’d died.”
“Yes.”
“So, you waited for me to contact you because you thought I knew all about the baby.”
“Not all. I mean, I thought you knew I was carrying your baby but Kay had made it clear she didn’t want you to know it was my egg, not hers, that had been fertilized.”
“But I didn’t contact you.”
“No. I assumed it was because you were devastated, losing Kay. That you’d adored her, just the way she’d said you did. And I thought—I thought I owed it to you to let you know the baby was fine, that you were going to be a father, and—and—”
“And?” he said softly.
Ivy shuddered. “And, I hadn’t figured out the rest. How to tell you I was the baby’s real mother. When to tell you. And then you said you didn’t know anything about a baby, that I was up to some kind of awful scam, and I didn’t know what to do—”
“Come here,” Damian said gruffly, and he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. “Ivy,” he whispered, when finally he raised his head, “glyka mou, I am so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all you’ve been through. I love you, agapimeni. I love you with all my heart, and I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it. Will you let me?”
Ivy laughed. Or maybe she wept. She couldn’t tell anymore because her joy was so complete.
“Only if you let me do the same thing for you,” she said, and kissed him.
They made their way back to the palace, arms around each other. At the front steps, Ivy paused.
“Kay?” she said questioningly.
“Gone,” Damian said flatly. “She came by boat, or maybe by broom, for all I know, and she’s gone back the same way.”
“It breaks my heart,” Ivy whispered. “To think she hates me enough to have told such lies…” She took a deep breath. “She’s still my stepsister. I can’t help but hope that someday—”
Damian drew her close. “Anything is possible.”
But he knew, even as he said it, that of all the things that had been said on this night, that was the biggest lie of all.
The wedding was on Damian’s yacht, anchored just off Minos.
The sun was bright, the sea was wine-dark and the bride, of course, was beautiful.
Some of the models Ivy had worked with for years were there, as was her agent.
There were two best men instead of one. Nicolo Barbieri—Prince Nicolo Barbieri—and Prince Lucas Reyes.
Nicolo was there with his beautiful wife, Aimee, and their adorable baby.
Lucas was alone, by choice.
“Bring a date,” Damian had told his pal but Lucas knew better. A man took a woman to a wedding, she got ideas.
Useless ideas, he thought firmly, because as happy as Nicolo was, as happy as Damian was, they could keep the marriage thing for themselves.
Not me, he told himself as he watched Damian kiss his glowing bride, never me.
But never, as everyone knows, is a very, very long time…
The Spanish Prince’s Virgin Bride
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
HIS name was Lucas Reyes.
At least, that was the name he preferred.
He was also His Highness Prince Lucas Carlos Alessandro Reyes Sanchez of Andalusia and Castile, heir to a throne that had ceased to exist centuries ago, which made him the great-great-great-Dios, too many “greats” to count-grandson of a king who had been among the conquistadores who tamed a distant land.
That land was America and as far as Lucas could tell, once you reached Texas you knew that those conquistadores only thought they had tamed the land.
Or so it seemed on this hot summer afternoon.
Lucas was driving his rented car along an unpaved excuse for a road beneath the glare of a merciless sun. Rain clouds hung on the distant horizon; at first, he’d foolishly thought they would bring some relief but the clouds seemed painted on an endless blue sky.
Nothing moved, except for the car, and the engine seemed to require more effort to manage even that.
Lucas tightened his hands on the steering wheel and mouthed a short, succinct oath.
He was on his way to a place called El Rancho Grande. His grandfather had been in communication with its owner, Aloysius McDonough, who had assured them, via e-mail, this road would lead straight to it.
And pigs can fly, Lucas thought dourly.
The road was taking him nowhere except further into sagebrush and tumbleweed, and the only thing he’d seen thus far that was close to grande was an enormous rattlesnake.
The sight of the snake had sent Lucas’s mistress into near-hysteria.
“A python,” she’d screeched. “Oh God, Lucas, a python!”
He thought of pointing out that pythons didn’t live in North America, then decided against it. Delia wouldn’t give a damn if the creature curled by the side of the road was an alligator. It would be just one more thing to gripe about.
She’d spent most of the first hour telling him the landscape was dull and the rental car was horrible.
At least they could agree on that. One glance at a map and Lucas had told his PA to arrange for a truck or an SUV but the girl behind the rental counter insisted his PA had booked what looked to Lucas like an anchovy tin on wheels. He’d protested but it got him nowhere.
The car was all they had available.
“But we might have something else tomorrow,” the girl had said brightly.
And spend more time on this fool’s errand? Lucas snorted. That wasn’t an option. So he’d signed for the anchovy tin, then listened to Delia whine when he said there was no room for her overnight suitcase, hanging garment bag, bulky makeup and jewelry cases in the miniscule trunk.
“We’re not going to be more than a few hours at the most,” he’d said impatiently.
Still, she’d protested and he’d finally told her she had two choices. She could leave everything on his plane or she could shut up and get into the car with whatever fit.
She’d gotten into the car, but she had not shut up. She’d complained and complained about the stuff she’d had to leave behind, about the vehicle, about the road, and now she’d taken up a new refrain.
“When will we get there?”
He’d gone from saying Soon to In a little while to We will get there when we get there, the words delivered through gritted teeth.
“But when?” she was in the middle of saying when the anchovy tin disguised as a car groaned in fishy agony and came to a stop.
Then there was only silence.
“Lucas, why did we stop? Why did you turn off the air conditioner? When will we get there? Lucas? When—”
He swung toward Delia. Under his cool hazel glower, she sank back in her seat. Still, she couldn’t resist one last comment.
“I don’t know what we’re doing in a place like this anyway,” she said petulantly.
That was another thing they agreed on. The road, the car, and now this.
What in hell were they doing here?
> Actually the answer was simple. Delia was here because Lucas was supposed to have taken her to the Hamptons this weekend. When he told her he couldn’t, she’d pouted until he said he’d take her to Texas with him.
Lucas was here because his grandfather had suddenly told him that he was expected to meet with Aloysius McDonough at a Texas ranch called El Rancho Grande.
“Who is this man?” Lucas had asked. “I’ve never heard of him or his ranch.”
Felix said that McDonough raised Andalusians.
“And?” Lucas asked, because surely there was more to the request than that. El Rancho Reyes raised some of the finest Andalusians in the world, surely the finest in Spain. If a pretentiously named ranch in Texas raised them, too, he’d have heard of it.
“And,” Felix said, “he has something that I hope will interest you.”
“A horse?” Lucas said in thinly veiled disbelief. “A stud?”
His grandfather had smiled. Actually, he’d chuckled. Lucas’s eyebrows lifted.
“Have I said something amusing, Grandfather?”
“Not at all. It’s just…No. Not a stud.”
“You want me to look at an Andalusian mare on a ranch no one’s ever heard of?”
“She’s not Andalusian.”
Dios, was Felix’s mind starting to go? “But Andalusians are what we breed,” Lucas said gently.
The old man glared at him. “Do I seem senile to you, boy? I know what we breed. I have been assured that she has excellent lineage and fine conformation.”
“There are mares in Spain with those qualities.”
Felix had nodded. “There are. But thus far, none has what I consider enough intelligence, beauty and heart to improve our line.”
Since Lucas ran El Rancho Reyes and had been running it for a decade, he was surprised by that pronouncement.
“I didn’t know you were looking, Grandfather.”
“I have been looking for years, Lucas.”
Another cryptic statement. The ranch had several excellent mares. In fact, Lucas had bought another one only recently…and yet, Felix sounded certain.
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