But tonight his wait would be rewarded. Granted, the timing of their union meant that their liaison tonight would not be part of the agreement they’d both signed. It would instead be the consummation of the promises they would make to one another before all these witnesses today.
The importance of those promises settled in his chest like a solid lump of lead, pressing down on his heart, his very honor. It didn’t settle well with him to be pledging to love another for the rest of their days when, in truth, he didn’t love her.
Love. It wasn’t something he and Loren had discussed. Hell, it wasn’t even something Alex had considered until she’d declared her feelings for him the night he’d given her the engagement ring.
When she’d first agreed to marry him back in New Zealand, he had assumed she cared for him, perhaps admired him a little the way she had when she was a child. He’d also known she was attracted to him—just as he was attracted to her. And she’d wanted to honor her father’s memory, in much the same way that he’d wanted to ease his grandfather’s mind. So Alex had been comfortable with the arrangement—with the idea of a marriage based on mutual regard, a healthy dose of desire and shared respect for family. Love had never been part of the plan.
But something about her sweetly serious declaration when she accepted his ring and gave him her heart had moved him unexpectedly, making him feel almost shamed. Was it fair to her to accept her love when he was not yet prepared to return it? A picture of his parents flashed through his memory. He wondered what they’d think of the choice he was making today.
They had known real love. It had been considered only fitting that if their light had to be extinguished so early that they die together. The avalanche that had taken them, while on a romantic skiing holiday together without their sons, had wiped out joy as the boys had known it up until that time. Yet they’d been lucky to have had Abuelo, who’d put his own grief aside to continue to guide and raise the three teenage boys whose anger at their parents’ fate sought many outlets.
It had been Abuelo’s steady love and firm hand that had brought them through. Love they reciprocated. Taking another look at his grandfather’s beaming face, Alex knew that while he would not be telling the truth as he made his vows to Loren today, the gift of hope it would give his grandfather was worth far too much for him to give in to second thoughts now.
“Last chance to back out,” Benedict said under his breath. Before Alex could respond, a sudden hush spread through the cathedral. The centuries-old organ, which had been delivering a steady medley of music, halted. The lump of lead in Alex’s chest shifted, forming a fist around his lungs as all eyes turned to the main doors. They swung slowly open and a burst of sunlight filled the doorway, bathing the vestibule with its golden glow. And then, within the glow of light, a lone figure appeared.
The fist squeezed tighter as Alex realized how difficult this must be for Loren. In the face of her mother’s blank refusal to attend their nuptials, he should have insisted she be accompanied on her journey down the center aisle of the cathedral—past the many assessing eyes of the glitterati and politically powerful. But she’d refused all offers from his brothers and Abuelo.
“My father will be with me in spirit,” she’d said, holding that determined, fine-boned chin of hers firmly in the air, daring him to challenge her wishes. “I need no one else.”
He’d had to accede to her wish. After all, it was the only thing on which she had insisted in all the matters pertaining to the ceremony.
The powerful organ began again and as Loren began to glide down the aisle toward him, Alex realized he’d misjudged his bride’s strength and fortitude.
Pride suffused every cell in his body as she walked toward him with effortless grace—her bare shoulders squared and her spine straight, her slender neck holding her head high. Loren’s skin gleamed against the strapless ivory gown that hugged her torso and exposed the gentle swell of her breasts before spreading into a bloom of fabric around and behind her. For the first time in his memory, Alex was speechless. Beneath the gossamer-fine veil that covered her head and shoulders and drifted down to her waist he caught glimpses of light striking the diamond tiara that had once been his mother’s. The matching necklace, its design the inverted image of the tiara, settled against her luminous skin at the base of her throat and spilled in a gentle V over her collarbone.
Her face was composed behind her veil, her eyes avoiding contact with his, focused instead on the altar behind him. As she drew closer he could hear the swish of the fabric of her gown as it swept across the floor, could see the fine tremors that shook the opulent bouquet of early summer blooms she carried.
“Looks like lanky little Loren Dubois has really grown up, hmm?”
Reynard’s voice in his ear snapped Alex from his trance.
“For once in your life could you just shut up?” he hissed at his brother through teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached, earning a glare of disapproval from the priest in the process.
Reynard’s next words, however, shocked him in a way he never expected.
“Don’t hurt her, Alex. Whatever you do, don’t ever hurt her.”
“Noted,” Alex replied with a swift nod.
He met his brother’s eyes briefly. There was no doubting Reynard meant what he said. For some strange reason it made him feel better that Loren had a champion. That it should have been him was not wasted on him at all, but given what he’d agreed to do to save the del Castillo family and fortunes, it was only fitting it be one of his brothers. Both, if the look on Benedict’s face was any indicator.
A savage rush of possession roared through his veins. They could look, certainly, they could warn him as much as they liked, but essentially, Loren was his. As she joined him on the steps in front of the altar that knowledge gave him the ultimate satisfaction.
When it came time to say their vows, Loren looked at him, truly looked at him, for the first time that day. And as she pledged to love him, he found he had to look away. Her words carried such surety, such conviction. She deserved more than empty promises in return. Her voice wobbled slightly on the last word of the formal ceremony they’d chosen. No, he corrected himself, the ceremony Giselle had chosen. Shame scored him. This was Loren’s wedding day. He should have given her more say in how the day was to go.
He’d approached this all wrong. He already had her love and loyalty and he’d walked roughshod over both in the execution of his goals and his needs. Loren was more than a means to an end, she was a vital, living, breathing woman.
He would make it up to her, he promised himself silently. As soon as they’d fulfilled the first part of the prenuptial agreement, he would definitely make it up to her.
Loren had barely spoken half a dozen words directly to him since they’d exchanged their vows. In the car from the wedding reception it was no different. Alex found the uncharacteristic silence challenging. Normally Loren found something, anything, to talk to him about—it was one of the things he found so engaging about her.
But something had changed inside her today; he could sense it in the way she held herself, the way she’d spoken to others. As if she was playing a part and was not really totally involved in what she was doing.
As their car swung through the gate of the outer wall and drew up to the entrance of the castillo it finally occurred to Alex why she was so quiet. She had to be nervous about tonight. He would make sure their first time was one she would remember forever. A special night. A memory to be treasured.
Dios, but she looked exquisitely beautiful. He could almost taste the satin softness of her skin already. Almost feel the shiver of desire ripple across her skin.
As the driver opened his door he gave a short command to the man to allow Alex himself to escort his new wife from the vehicle. He walked around to her side of the car and pulled open her door, offering her his hand.
“Come, Loren. Let me help you inside.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
The
voluminous skirts and sweep of the train of her dress was a confection of fabric about her, yet she handled the garment with the grace of a swan. Another definite plus in her favor—no matter the situation, she handled it with aplomb. In spite of his concerns, he knew he’d chosen well when he’d decided to marry her. She would be a marvelous asset to him in so very many ways.
“You were wonderful today, I was so proud of you,” he bent to murmur in her ear as they approached the arched entrance of their home.
“It was an—” she hesitated a moment before continuing “—interesting day.”
“Interesting?” Alex forced himself to laugh softly. Surely she hadn’t picked up on his unease during the ceremony—or had she? Well regardless, he’d have to put her mind at ease. “It was a great success. All of Isla Sagrado knows you are now my beautiful bride and their blessings upon us will reflect back upon them. I imagine, though, it must have been difficult for you.”
“Difficult?”
“Without your family to support you.”
“Yes, it was difficult, but it was what my father would have expected of me.”
There was a note to her voice that sounded off-key but Alex pushed the thought aside. She was obviously weary after the pomp and ceremony of the day and the obligations she’d fulfilled at the lavish reception.
Alex guided Loren up the stairs and toward the shared suite he’d ordered their effects delivered to today—the suite that had been his parents’. As they swept inside he nodded in approval at the sensual soft lighting provided by the plethora of candles he’d requested be lit before their arrival.
The heady scents of rose and sandalwood drifted on the air, feminine and masculine, yin and yang.
“Would you like to be alone while you change? Or perhaps I should call your maid to assist with your gown?”
“No, it’s all right. I can manage the lacing myself,” Loren replied.
Again there was that slight discordance. Again he shrugged it away.
“I’ll leave you to change then.”
She merely inclined her head and moved gracefully across the room to her private chamber. Alex watched as she drew the door closed behind her then wasted no time getting to his private en suite bathroom and divesting himself of his clothing before stepping under the hot steam of a quick shower. A few swift swipes of his towel later and he was dry. Naked, he padded through to his dressing room where he reached for midnight blue, satin pajama bottoms and a matching robe.
Would her touch be as soft as the fabric that caressed his skin, he wondered. No, it would be softer, he was certain. His body coiled tight in anticipation of what lay ahead.
Before he realized it, he was at the door to her rooms, his hand twisting the handle and thrusting open the door. Candles had been lit in here, too. The large pedestal bed, swathed in cream-and-gold draperies, stood invitingly empty.
Empty?
A sound drew his attention as his bride came from her bathroom. Her satin nightgown skimmed her slender form enticingly, cascading over her gentle curves much as his hands now itched to, also. A small frown puckered her brow as she worked a brush through her hair.
“Here, let me,” Alex said as she crossed the room. He took the brush from her fingers. “Sit down on the bed.”
Loren did as he requested and Alex stood a little behind her and forced himself to focus on her hair and only her hair as he reached to stroke the brush through her tresses, easing out the knots and occasional forgotten hairpin.
“Ah.” She sighed. “That feels wonderful.”
Liquid fire pooled in his groin at her words. He planned to make her feel so much more wonderful very soon. Now that the brush flowed more smoothly through her hair he allowed himself to focus on the deliciously smooth, bare shoulders she presented to him.
Palest pink straps of satin were all that held her nightgown up. Straps that with the slightest breath could slide down those shoulders and farther, down her slender arms, exposing her back. He’d never found the prospect of observing a woman’s back so enticing before. But then again, with Loren everything was different. Everything felt new.
He couldn’t help himself, he had to taste her. He gathered her hair in one fist and gently drew it away from the nape of her neck then bent to kiss her, allowing his tongue to stroke across her skin in a private caress.
He felt her response ripple down her spine. Smiling to himself, he kissed her again—this time sucking gently—and was rewarded with the soft sound of her gasp. Alex let the hairbrush drop to the floor and placed both his hands upon her shoulders, coaxing her upright to turn and face him.
Her face, clean of the makeup she’d worn today, appeared flushed in the candlelight—her eyes luminous, their pupils dilated so far they almost appeared to consume the dark velvet brown of her irises. Her lips were moist and remained slightly parted. His gaze dropped to her breasts, to the clearly delineated pinpoints of her nipples as they thrust against the satin with her each and every rapid breath.
Something knotted tight and low in Alex’s belly. Something possessive. Something wild. Every instinct within him roared that he plunder her lips, that he drag the delicate fabric of her nightgown from her body and expose her to him, allowing him to feast on her feminine glory. To rush her to dizzying heights she had no experience of.
To mark her as his own.
She is inexperienced, he reminded himself sternly, forcing himself to hold back, to slow down.
He let his hands skim across her shoulders and gently cup the back of her neck, tilting her head to him. He lowered his face, his eyes locked upon hers. His entire body rigid with the need to take this as gently as humanly possible.
His lips were only millimeters from hers. Already he could feel her breath against him, smell the sweetness of her breath.
“Alex, wait!”
Through the cloud of passion that controlled him he heard the plea in her voice. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a shuddering breath, constraining his desire.
“You are frightened. I’m rushing you. Do not worry, Loren. I will make tonight one you will never forget.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, pulling out of his arms, creating a short distance between them.
Already his body cried out for her. Craving her slender frame against his, aching for her warmth to envelop him.
“Then what is it?” he asked, fighting back the edge of frustration that threatened to spill over into his voice. He didn’t want to frighten her more with his hunger.
“It’s about us. Our marriage.”
“Us?”
A cold finger of caution traced a chilly path down his spine. What was she speaking of? They were married. Tonight would see the consummation of that marriage.
“Yes, Alex, us. I love you. I’ve always loved you one way or another. I accept that you don’t return my feelings in the same way.”
“You know I care for you, Loren,” he asserted, determined to salve her concerns as quickly as possible.
“I know you do, but more as a brother would a sister.”
“Believe me, my feelings toward you are most definitely not brotherly.”
“Be that as it may.” She waved her hand to disregard his words. “Even knowing you don’t love me, I agreed to marry you in part because of my feelings for you, but also to honor my father and his promise to yours.” She lifted her eyes to him. Eyes that glistened in the candlelight with unshed tears. “Can you honestly tell me that you have done the same?”
Tell her he’d married her to fulfill their fathers’ vow to one another? No, not even he could lie about that. Not after the lies he’d already told before his grandfather in the church today. Lies that still coated his tongue with a tang of unpleasantness. The old promise was the reason he’d chosen to seek her out rather than find a bride on Isla Sagrado, but it was not the sole reason he’d decided to marry.
“No,” he responded, his voice flat and tinged now with the anger he bore toward himself more than
to her. “But you have asked me to be honest. If you do not like my truth then you have only yourself to blame.”
“But you have married me with the intention of producing an heir, is that true?”
She stood upright before him, holding her chin high, her shoulders straight, demanding his response.
“Of course.”
“To dispel the governess’s curse?”
Words failed him momentarily.
“The curse is nothing but an overstated legend. It has no bearing on us or on our marriage.”
“So you didn’t suddenly decide to travel all the way to New Zealand and then to marry me to put Abuelo’s mind to rest? To prove that the curse wasn’t real? Can you truly say that if it hadn’t been for the curse you would ever have followed through with our fathers’ wishes?”
He couldn’t answer, to answer truthfully would damn him forever in her eyes—to tell a lie was impossible on top of the abomination of falsehoods he’d committed already.
“I see,” Loren continued. “Well, then. It appears that we are at an impasse. I could have accepted almost anything from you, Alex, but I will not accept deception. You brought me here under false pretences.”
“You say you love me, and you did sign the prenuptial agreement,” Alex reminded her, the words like gravel on his tongue. “You cannot back out now.”
“I will meet the expectations of that agreement. You will have your heir, Alexander del Castillo, but I see no reason why we should enter into a physical marriage.” A sharp note of bitterness crept into her voice. “In this day and age of technology why would you even want to consider the hassle and inconvenience, or indeed even the inconsistency, of making love?
“After all, if the act is to be as clinical and bereft of mutual affection as I imagine it will be, surely a petri dish will do, as well.”
Loren’s words hung like icicles in the air between them. Anger welled and rolled within him, much like the violent surf they could hear from the beach below through her open casement windows.
“You are refusing me your bed?” he finally managed through a jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might shatter.
Honor-Bound Groom Page 7
