“I didn’t realize…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you were—”
“Really?” She sat up, her back to him. “But that was part of the deal, wasn’t it? Aloysius’s assurance to Felix that I was a virgin?”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Amada. I’m sorry you’re upset. I didn’t…I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
His voice was low. Husky with remorse. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Didn’t you?”
The clasp of his fingers tightened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Alyssa shrugged off his hand, stood up and knotted the sash of the robe at her waist.
“I’ve been around horses all my life.”
The bed creaked. She heard the pad of Lucas’s feet and then he was standing in front of her, his eyes narrowed.
“And?”
There was warning in the single word but she didn’t care. The only warning that mattered was one that would have kept her from surrendering to him half an hour ago.
“And,” she said, wishing she were wearing more than this thin robe, wishing he weren’t so flagrantly, magnificently naked, “and I know all those theories about the best ways to make a mare submit to a stallion.”
Silence filled the room. Then Lucas reached for his sweatpants and stepped into them. His voice, when he spoke, was frigid.
“You think I seduced you to force you into some kind of obedience?”
An image of him kneeling between her thighs flashed through her mind, along with the memory of how it had felt to have him deep inside her.
“Alyssa? Is that what you think?”
Looking at him, hearing the taut anger in his words, she didn’t know what to think. All she was sure of was that admitting doubt would be a sign of weakness.
“What I think,” she said evenly, “is that I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his face stony. Then he nodded.
“I agree. It was the worst possible mistake. Unfortunately we cannot undue it.”
“No. We can’t.”
“I took your virginity.”
That was what he said but the words sounded wrong, as if he meant something entirely different.
“I should have believed my grandfather when he told me you were intact.”
Color flooded her face. She supposed the term was correct but it sounded cold, as if it were a description in an auction-house brochure. The piece for sale is intact…
“And now you’ve lost your bargaining chip. Deliberately, but you’ve lost it, nonetheless.”
Alyssa blinked. “My what?”
“Ah, chica, it’s too late for that innocent look. You know damned well what I’m talking about. Felix’s values are those of another time. He saw your virginity as a requirement for your bride price.” Lucas’s mouth thinned. “But I don’t give a damn whether a woman’s a virgin or not and most certainly, I am not looking for a bride.” He flashed a thin smile. “Which is why, I suppose, you felt desperate enough to toss me this morsel.”
“You think that I…?” Enraged, Alyssa flew at him, hand raised, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. “You were only in this bed because I felt sorry for you, and God knows why I was that stupid! You were the one who turned an act of—of kindness into a—a lesson in seduction.”
“Seduction?” His teeth showed in a lupine smile. “What happened in this bed is the same as what happened the day we met. You couldn’t control yourself here any more than you could control that horse.”
“Bastard,” she hissed, “you no-good, egotistical—”
She went for his eyes with her free hand. Lucas caught it, drew it behind her where he manacled both her wrists. The action lifted her to her toes.
“Do you take me for a fool, chica? Nothing you do will persuade me to honor the stipulation you keep insisting you don’t want me to honor.”
“I’d sooner marry a—”
“So you have already said.” He smiled, though his eyes remained cool. “I have known many clever women, too many to be taken in by you.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that for a minute,” she panted as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. “I saw one of them, remember? That—that wind-up toy with the bleached hair, big boobs and a brain the size of a walnut!”
Lucas grinned. “An excellent description, amada. But at least she admits she’s after something when she lures a man into her bed.”
“Pig!”
“Is that the best you can do?” He let go of her and strode to the door. “Tomorrow,” he said grimly, “I will speak with my attorneys.”
“It’s today,” she said, flinging the words at him. “And at least you finally said something intelligent.”
“Here’s something even more intelligent. I am sure they will see that the entire contract is a farce and I am liable for nothing.”
“You are liable for the money you owe me!”
“My corporation owes it, and not to you. To Norton, as executor.”
“Dance around all you like. Your grandfather made a deal and you’re stuck with it.”
His eyes flashed. “But not with you, chica.”
“Trust me, Your Mightiness. The feeling is mutual.” Alyssa glared at him. “When will you meet with your lawyers?”
Amazing, Lucas thought. She had to know she was on the losing end of the battle, that his attorneys would find a way to void the entire contract, but she was still behaving as if she were his equal.
She’d been like that in bed, too. Shy, at first. Holding back. Then, little by little, coming to life beneath his hands and mouth. Showing him what she wanted. What pleased her.
What had pleased him was the simple act of making love to her. Not that it had felt simple. He’d been with a lot of women, more women than most men, perhaps, but what had happened in this room, this bed, had seemed far more complex than anything he’d known in the past.
The act had seemed richer. Fuller. At the end, when she’d trusted him enough to let go and come with him…
When she’d done that, when she’d contracted around him even as the power of his own orgasm shot through him, he’d felt—he’d felt—
“Don’t just stand there, Your Highness! I want to know when this meeting will take place! And, of course, I intend to go with you.”
She intended to go with him? He almost laughed. She had no more right to attend a meeting with his lawyer than she had to keep claiming El Rancho Grande should be hers.
He looked out the window. The sky glowed pink with the morning light. No one would be in the Madrid offices of Madeira, Vasquez, Sterling and Goldberg, but that presented no problem.
The answering service would take the message. Ricardo Madeira himself would return the call within minutes.
There were occasional benefits to being Prince Lucas Reyes, even if this woman chose not to see them.
And having Alyssa with him might be an advantage. Let Madeira see precisely what he was up against.
“Be downstairs in one hour,” he said brusquely. “And be prompt, amada. I do not like to be kept waiting.”
Could an enraged woman pass up such an opportunity? He had taken all the time in the world to make love to her and she knew it, but she had the feeling she was losing their verbal war. Here was a chance to make points.
“Yes,” Alyssa said sweetly, “I know how quickly you like to do things.”
She knew instantly she had pushed him too far. His eyes went from gold to green; the bones in his face stood out in harsh relief.
“Really,” he said, very softly.
She stumbled back. “No,” she said, the one word a terrified breath.
It didn’t matter.
Lucas grabbed her. Drew her to him despite her struggles and caught her face with one hand.
“Watch what you say, amada. Or I may have to take you to bed again and make love to you until you beg me for release.”
“In yo
ur dreams!”
He laughed softly. “No, amada. In yours.”
He lowered his head and kissed her hard. Deep. Kissed her with a passion that bordered on cruelty. Then he flung her from him.
“An hour,” he said coldly. “Or I leave without you.”
The door slammed shut behind her. Alyssa didn’t move. Then, after a long moment, she touched the tip of her tongue to her lips, tasted Lucas, his heat, his possession…
And closed her eyes in despair.
There were tiny spots of blood on her thighs.
On the sheets.
The blood on her thighs was easy to deal with. A hot shower, plenty of soap and the blood drops were gone even if the pain in her heart was still there.
The sheets were different. She agonized over what to do with them. The thought of one of the maids seeing that blood and knowing what had happened was more than she could bear.
Quickly she stripped the bed, carried the sheets into the bathroom, sponged them clean, then dried them with the built-in hair dryer.
She dressed in the same clothes she’d been wearing since the evening Lucas had taken her from the ranch, whenever that was. One day. Two days. Three. She’d lost track.
One of the maids had been thoughtful enough to wash and press the garments. They looked like hell but they were, at least, clean. Not that she gave a damn. Who cared how she looked? She certainly didn’t.
She left her room fifteen minutes before the hour after giving the timing some thought. Instinct told her to saunter down the stairs a few minutes late. That same instinct warned that if she were late, Lucas would leave without her.
Being early, waiting for him so that he’d seem to be the one who was late, seemed the best solution.
No such luck.
He was already in the vast entry foyer, lounging carelessly in an elaborate leather and wood chair that reminded her of a throne. Deliberate on his part, no doubt, she thought coldly.
He rose when he saw her and she knew she’d lied to herself about not caring how she looked. Lucas looked—why not admit it? He looked magnificent. His dark blue suit had surely been custom-made to suit his broad shoulders, narrow waist and long legs. Beneath it, he wore a crisp white shirt and maroon tie. She could tell he’d just showered: drops of water glittered like tiny jewels in his midnight-black hair.
He’d shaved, too. The dark stubble that had covered his jaw was gone.
The dark, sexy stubble that had felt so delicious against her thighs, her breasts…
“You need new clothes.”
Alyssa drew herself up. “I need nothing from you, Your Mightiness.”
A dangerous glint flared in his eyes. “Clothes, and manners. We are about to meet with Ricardo Madeira. You will not address me with disrespect, nor will you argue with what I say.”
“I also will not curtsy,” she informed him as they stepped into the back of the long black Rolls-Royce waiting in the driveway. “I suggest you keep that in mind.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I think I would have known you had Spanish blood even if no one had told me your middle name was Montero.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but my blood is pure Texan. The Montero name dates back four centuries in the New World. I am descended from conquistadores.”
Another quick laugh. “Some would say that is nothing to boast about.”
“They did as men did in those times. And they were brave and fearless.”
“What of your real father? Montero? Did he divorce your mother?”
“He died, when I was two.”
“So you don’t remember him?”
She shook her head. It was one of the sorrows of her life that she had no memory of the father who had surely loved her as Aloysius never had.
“No. I don’t.”
“When did McDonough adopt you?”
“When my mother married him. I was four.”
Why was she telling him all this? She never talked about her past to anyone. Losing the father who’d loved you to be raised by one who didn’t was no one’s affair but her own.
“He was unkind to you?”
“I don’t see that any of this is your concern.”
“I have no idea what is or is not my concern until I’ve talked with Madeira.”
“Until we’ve talked with him. This situation is intolerable. It must end.”
Intolerable, Lucas thought. Being with him. Making love with him. Learning she was betrothed to him. Intolerable, all of it.
She was right. Of course, she was right…
Frowning, he leaned forward.
“There’s no traffic,” he told Paolo sharply. “Surely we can go faster.”
The road wound through lush green countryside dotted with elegant villas and, tucked back among stands of orange and encina trees, enormous mansions.
Signs flashed by. Marbella was just ahead.
That explained the scent of the sea. Alyssa had never been to Spain but she knew Marbella was in the south, on the Mediterranean, facing across a narrow strip of it to North Africa and the mysteries of Tangiers.
She knew this was the gold coast, the home and playground of fabulously rich Spaniards and Europeans. Horses were expensive to breed and raise, the Andalusians of the quality the Reyes name was known for took “expensive” up another notch, and the cost of the Reyes acreage would be extraordinary.
Of course, the prince could afford it. He had no heart but he had money, power and arrogance enough for a thousand men.
“Most Andalusian breeders ranch further inland but I prefer the La Concha foothills.” Lucas gave her a level look when she turned toward him. “That’s what you were wondering, wasn’t it? Why I breed horses here?”
“Why should I think about your horses at all?”
“Because you claim to be a horsewoman.”
“I am a horsewoman, señor.”
“Most certainly.” His words dripped sarcasm. “I could tell that by the way you handled that black monster.”
“Bebé has fine bloodlines. And he was not at fault!”
“Bebé has the bloodlines of brontosaurs but you’re right, he was not at fault. You were.”
“That shows how little you know about me.”
Lucas smiled coolly. “I know more about you than most men, don’t I, chica?”
Alyssa turned crimson. “I was wrong when I called you a pig. They’re actually intelligent creatures with bad press. Exactly the opposite of you.”
Hell. He couldn’t blame her for taking offense but, damn it, he was still angry. If only he could clear his head of the image of her, naked in his arms. Naked, and trembling, and pleading for his possession…then telling him, in a voice that would have frozen tap water, to get off her.
The time to have done that was when he realized she was a virgin but he was a man, not a saint. So he’d taken what she had offered.
Afterward, lying with her still in his arms, he’d felt a tenderness that was new to him, and a hunger to make love to her again.
First, though, he’d wanted to tend to her. Gently, with a warm, damp cloth. He’d wash her, kiss away any soreness.
Instead she’d insulted him. Made it clear what had happened had meant nothing to her. That had infuriated him, and he’d responded in kind. Which was just as well, he thought as the Rolls-Royce slowed, then stopped in a square lined with white stucco villas and palm trees.
It had sent him to the phone to make this appointment.
Paolo opened the door. Lucas stepped out and offered his hand to Alyssa, who ignored him.
“I thought your attorneys were in Madrid.”
“They are. Madeira would have flown down here, of course—”
“Of course,” she said with a scathing smile.
“But, as luck would have it, he’s in Marbella this weekend. He’s meeting us in a friend’s office. Well? Are you getting out of the car, or are you going to stay here and sulk?”
Alyssa tossed her head, brushed his hand
away and stepped into the cobblestone courtyard.
Good, Lucas thought viciously. She was making it easy to forget any sentimental claptrap about what he’d felt in bed with her. Amazing, the spin even a sensible man could put on taking a woman’s virginity.
Madeira would review the contract. He’d agree that whole damnable stipulation was illegal, admit he had added it only because Felix had insisted. Lucas would pay the balance of what Reyes owed to Thaddeus Norton, the McDonough executor.
Then, as new owner of the ranch he didn’t want, he’d commit an act of charity and sign it over to Alyssa Montero McDonough, who would then get the hell out of his life.
He supposed he could have done all this without consulting his attorney but this would make striking out the marriage clause legal and official. If Felix recovered…No. When Felix recovered, it might upset him but Lucas would deal with that when it happened.
Right now, the important thing was voiding that damned stipulation without leaving any loose ends behind.
So simple. It was almost enough to make him smile.
It was a good thing he hadn’t actually gone ahead and smiled, Lucas thought two hours later.
Madeira expressed his sorrow at Felix’s illness. Lucas thanked him. Madeira offered coffee. Lucas brushed it aside and handed the attorney the copy of the contract Thaddeus Norton had given him.
Madeira didn’t bother looking at it.
“I had your grandfather’s files faxed to me, Prince Lucas, the moment you phoned.”
“Good, because I don’t want to waste time. I want your legal opinion on this as quickly as possible.” Lucas smiled knowingly. “Of course, I already know it’s not legal. Parts of it, at any rate…but then, you must know that, too, since you wrote it.”
Madeira smiled politely. “I am not in the habit of writing illegal contracts for my clients, Your Highness. If you will just give me a minute…”
An hour passed. Lucas glowered while the attorney read. Hummed. Tapped his pencil against his nose. Made notes.
Finally Madeira looked up.
“Not illegal,” he said. “Unenforceable.”
“The same thing,” Lucas snapped.
The lawyer sat back, crossed one leg over the other, steepled his hands under his dew-lapped chin and smiled.
The Billionaires' Brides Bundle Page 40
