The chill from his smile spread across Tamsin’s heart.
Thank God I don’t love him, she thought. What kind of man could take a good deed and turn it so black?
Pushing her blanket aside, she climbed out of bed. “I need to dress.”
The light in his eyes changed as he came closer to her. “Let me help you.”
He ran his hands down her arms, and the heat in his eyes made her forget her earlier chill. He made her forget that she was wearing a long cotton nightgown that covered her from her neck to her toes. He made her feel naked. Naked and on fire.
“I thought you said that … that our marriage would be in name only,” she stammered.
“I never said that, querida.” He gave her a slow onceover that made her whole body sizzle. “I said it would be a marriage of convenience. And it will be very convenient for me to have you sleeping in the same bed every night. Very convenient to have you naked next to me, instead of wearing the shapeless, chaste nightgowns that you favor. You cannot hide your body from me. I will not allow it. What I’ve tasted has only made me hungry for more.”
He ran his hands down her back, pulling her close. Her heart started to pound and she felt frightened—of him, of herself and what he made her feel. How could such a cold-hearted man make her feel so … hot?
She twisted out of his reach with a nervous laugh, reaching for a plush robe inside her closet. “I’m starving.”
His eyes smoldered. “So am I.”
She swallowed, aware of the bed right behind her, of how easy it would be to surrender. But she had to resist. Making love to him made her feel things she didn’t want to feel—things she couldn’t let herself feel. If they were going to be married for months, she couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. To keep her heart distant, she had to do the same with her body.
“I meant for food.” She covered her nightgown with the thick white robe and double-tied the belt. “Can you point me towards the kitchen?”
“I’ll do better than that.” He gave her a wolflike smile. “I will show you personally.”
“No, there’s no need to do that, really. I’m sure I can find—”
“I will take you.” The way he spoke the words made her shiver. He intended to take her—and not just to the kitchen, either. But surely he wouldn’t try to seduce her in a place so public as his kitchen, in the middle of the afternoon? She took a steadying breath.
“All right.”
He grabbed her hand in his own larger one and drew her out of the bedroom and down the sweeping stairs. They descended several floors to the enormous kitchen tucked in the far back of the castle. The ancient brick oven, wood beams across the low ceiling and wood panels on the walls gave the kitchen a medieval appearance that contrasted with the bright stainless steel appliances and modern amenities.
“Here we are,” he said softly.
They were as alone as they’d been in her room. She swallowed.
“Where is everyone? I thought the kitchen would be crowded with servants making dinner.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s siesta. Dinner is not for many hours.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you afraid to be alone with me, Señorita Winter?”
“No, of course not,” she lied. “I just want a sandwich and, from what your housekeeper said, you couldn’t find your way around a kitchen if your life depended on it.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You have so little faith in me.”
Her blood rose in spite of her best intentions. Sparring with this cocky, arrogant Spaniard thrilled her. He so richly deserved to be set down a peg or two. Raising her chin, she shrugged. “Every man has his weaknesses.”
“This is not one of mine, querida. I rarely pay attention to food, simply because it doesn’t interest me. But feeding you … that interests me very much.”
He was already grabbing things from the refrigerator and the cupboards. Serrano ham, cheese, Dijon mustard, lettuce, tomatoes and thick crusty bread.
“What are you doing?”
He assembled the ingredients into a sandwich that looked five inches tall.
“Sit down,” he ordered. She sat at the small round table and he sat across from her, handing her the tall sandwich on a plate. “Try this.”
“There’s no way I can eat that!” she protested. “My mouth isn’t wide enough.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “I think you can handle it.”
Her stomach growled just looking at the sandwich. Feeling awkward, she stretched her mouth to take a bite and her whole body sang with pleasure at the taste. She’d never known ham could be so delicious. “It’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, wiping a trace of mustard from the corner of her mouth.
He gave her a condescending smile. “So you admit it, then. Making a sandwich is not one of my weaknesses.”
“No,” she had to admit. She took another bite, and another, before she noticed that he was still motionless, watching her from the other side of the table. “Aren’t you going to have one?”
“I’m saving my appetite,” he said. “For dessert.”
“Oh.” She took another bite, and then realized what he meant. “Oh.”
His smile widened as if he’d read her thoughts. “Ice cream,” he clarified.
Perversely, she felt disappointed. The more she ate, the stronger she felt. She was already thinking that maybe physical contact wouldn’t be so dangerous after all. She knew Marcos was cold and vengeful, and that it would be a disaster to love him, but she was now feeling confident that she could handle it.
Making love might make other women fall in love, but not her. She could resist.
She looked down at her empty plate with surprise. “I ate the whole thing.”
“Of course you did.” He reached across the table to stroke her cheek. “You’re not one of those sickly women who exist on lettuce leaves and diet soda. You are too much of a fighter. Too much in love with life and all the pleasure that comes with it.”
She turned her face into his caress, and his eyes sharpened. He leaned across the table—moving slowly, so slowly—and kissed her thoroughly. She closed her eyes, never wanting it to end. He pulled her to her feet and untied her robe, pulling it off her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. Her nightgown, modest as it was, felt thin as gossamer between them.
“Do you want some dessert?” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.
Eyes still closed, she felt breathless and giddy. Her earlier fears and hesitations now seemed foolish. Marcos had called her a fighter. He believed she was strong. Why should she deny herself the pleasure of making love because of some ridiculous fear that she might lose her heart?
And, anyway, they’d already made love once. Once more wouldn’t hurt, surely?
“Yes,” she said, as soft as a sigh. “Dessert.”
He released her. Crossing the kitchen, he pulled two cartons of ice cream from the freezer. “Chocolate or strawberry?”
“What?” she stammered.
“Ice cream.” He waved the cartons at her. “You said you wanted some.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Either one.”
“I think both.” He put the cartons down on the large stone slab of the center island in the kitchen. His dark eyes seared hers as he held out his hand. “Come.”
Mesmerized by the intensity in his expression, she put her hand in his. Without explanation, he bent in front of her and, in a single upwards motion, pulled off her nightgown.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, trying to cover her naked breasts with her arms. They were in a public place! At any moment one of his servants, like Reyes or even that ghastly housekeeper Nelida, could walk in and see her like this! “We can’t—”
“I can.” Without any apparent effort, he picked her up and laid her across the cool stone of the center island. Ignoring her struggles, he left her bare on the table, wearing only white cotton panties. He stood over her.
“And now,” he said, “dessert.”
He dipped a spoon into the gourmet chocolate ice cream. “Open your mouth.”
Shocked, she stopped struggling long enough to let her lips fall open slightly. But he didn’t put the spoon in her mouth. Instead, he ran the back of it along her lips in an explosion of cold, rich flavor. It tasted good, so good.
She involuntarily licked her lips. “More?” she suggested in a small voice.
“Yes.” But, instead of giving her another taste of ice cream, he leaned over and kissed her. The sudden heat from his mouth and the long, languid strokes of his tongue caused a shock of desire to spread across her body. She forgot that she was practically naked in the kitchen and didn’t care who might see. She just wanted Marcos to be naked too.
She reached for him. “Kiss me.”
He kissed her, but it was only a light teasing kiss that just made her want more. He dipped his spoon into the strawberry ice cream. He ran the back of the spoon around her breast, swirling it in increasingly tightening circles until it reached her nipple. He turned the spoon over, leaving a mouthful of strawberry ice cream against her taut flesh, then bent and sucked it off her nipple.
She gasped, arching her back against the cool stone. Pulling away, he did the same thing to her other breast, and she thought she’d go mad.
“Please,” she whimpered, pulling at his shirt, fumbling at his buttons. “Don’t make me wait.”
“You want me to take off my clothes?”
She nodded.
Raising a dark eyebrow, he gave her a wicked smile. “But you’re covered in ice cream. In the kitchen. Anyone might walk in and see.”
So it was like that, was it? Narrowing her eyes, she sat up. If she could be nearly naked and risk discovery, so could he. She yanked off his shirt, ripping off two buttons in her impatience, and covered herself with it. His shirt barely reached the tops of her thighs, and the one remaining button was inadequate protection for her breasts, but it was enough. Leaving the two pints of ice cream melting on the counter, she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.
“Señor,” she heard the housekeeper say behind them as they reached the first floor landing, “I was just going to start dinner and wondered if you’d prefer langostinos or rabo de toro …” She ended with a gasp.
Tamsin whirled around to face the housekeeper, well aware of the woman’s pinched face and judgmental sniff at her wearing nothing but Marcos’s shirt. But, for once, she didn’t care.
“We’ll have the langostinos,” Tamsin said. With a toss of her hair, she added, “Just don’t make it too soon. Marcos and I will be busy for hours.”
Then she turned back to the stairs, pulling Marcos behind her and leaving Nelida spluttering in Spanish outrage.
“You’ve changed,” he observed as she dragged him into her bedroom. She looked at him quickly, wondering if he was criticizing her. But his dark eyes were full of approval.
She tilted her head, putting her hand on her hip. “Ice cream will do that to a girl.”
“A dangerous dish,” he agreed, then his eyes widened as she deliberately pulled off the shirt and dropped it to the floor. As he watched, she leaned back, closing her bedroom door behind her. He licked his lips, seemingly mesmerized as she pulled off her panties. “Yes, very dangerous,” he repeated. “It should be a controlled substance.”
“I thought you controlled it remarkably well.” She was naked in front of a man in broad daylight. The old Tamsin would have been running for a blanket to cover herself. But somehow at this moment she didn’t even care. She felt saucy, bold—and utterly unafraid. It was exhilarating.
She grabbed his belt loop. “Come with me.”
He didn’t even try to resist. “Where?”
She pulled him into her bathroom. It had a wide walk-in shower enclosed in Spanish tile, with two nozzles on opposite sides. The temperature of the water was controlled by digital settings. Turning on the water, she set it to a steamy forty-one degrees centigrade.
Stepping back out of the shower, she knelt in front of him and pulled off his pants and boxers. He was already hard. She stared at him for a moment. She’d never really looked at any man up close like this. He was beautiful.
Tentatively, she touched him.
He almost jumped out of his skin.
She looked up at his tense face. So he wasn’t the only one who could be a tease, she thought. He wasn’t the only one who could make a person die from wanting more.
The thought was illuminating—and satisfying. She ran her breasts against his bare legs. Moving her hand between his thighs, exploring the length of his shaft, she leaned forward and took a soft lick. Salty, she thought. Smooth.
“Dios mío,” he muttered, taking an involuntary, stumbling step towards her.
Reveling in her own power, she took a wide, long taste of him, like licking an ice cream cone. He trembled beneath her and, with a harsh gasp, he swept her up into his arms.
“You little tease,” he growled, and he carried her into the shower, pushing her against the colorful tile wall. Hot water steamed all around them, twisting her hair and drenching her skin.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” she gasped.
“You deserve this, then.” He lifted her up against the wall, forcing her thighs apart as he spread her wide. Her legs wrapped around him. Holding her up against the wall as if she were no weight at all, he pushed himself inside her.
The shock of his penetration made her cry out. Her whole body was massaged with hot water as he thrust into her again possessively. She threw her head back, closing her eyes as her breasts swayed with each thrust. She came almost at once, crying out, and he followed immediately with a shout that echoed against the tiles of the shower.
For a moment, he just held her against the wall, his head lowered, his cheek against hers. Water continued to pound them, leaving their skin flushed.
Finally, he set her down. Her legs felt too weak to support her and she fell against his hard, muscled chest. He led her out of the shower and toweled them both off. Stroking her cheek, he looked down at her almost tenderly.
Then, suddenly, a change came over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, clenching his jaw. Pulling on his pants, he went out into the bedroom. Still naked, she followed him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said.
She sat down on the bed. She wanted to invite him under the sheets with her, but his face was as hard and set as granite. “Tell me.”
He started for the door, then stopped, glaring at her. “It’s not you,” he muttered. “It’s what you do to me. You made me lose control. I’ve never done that before, Tamsin. Ever.”
“Done what? Eaten ice cream? Or made love in the shower?” She blushed a little. “That was my first time as well. I have a new appreciation for it.”
She expected him to smile, but his eyes looked grimmer by the second. “We will leave for Madrid tonight.”
“Madrid? Why not London?”
“I will never set foot in that city again,” he said flatly. “I made a vow when I was twelve, and I never go back on my word.”
She licked her lips. Just five minutes before, he’d been toweling her off in the gorgeous bathroom, brushing every drop of moisture off her skin with a white cotton towel. His face had been caring, almost adoring. Now he was staring at her as if he hated her.
“But Marcos, the custody hearing will be in Britain,” she pointed out, confused. “And you said yourself that’s where we need to change public opinion of me …”
“No.” Abruptly, he walked away and she felt a rush of cold and solitude. His sudden emotional abandonment felt like a physical pain. He was punishing her. She didn’t know why, but it hurt. In a daze, she pulled the blankets up over her naked body. She no longer felt saucy or bold. She just felt vulnerable.
“We’ll give the press a week in Madrid to document our whirlwind affair,” he continued. “Then we’ll be married in a fairy ta
le wedding. The English press will pick up the story. All of London will be sighing over our romance.”
His emphasis on the last word was almost a sneer. Her pride began to react.
“The marriage might not be necessary,” she retorted. “If your detectives find enough evidence against my brother, we can use the information to pressure him into giving us custody.”
“I said I’d marry you, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Maybe I no longer want to marry you.”
His gray eyes flashed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so angry at me? What did I do?”
Clenching his jaw, he raked his hand through his dark hair. “I told you, it wasn’t you.”
“Then why are you acting like you hate me?”
“I didn’t use a condom, Tamsin,” he bit out. “I’venever forgotten to use one. Ever. I’ve never lost control like that.” He ground his teeth, “You could be pregnant already.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. Pregnant. Oh, God. How could she have forgotten about that? How could she have not noticed that they didn’t use a condom in the shower?
He gave a harsh laugh. “Don’t look so frightened.”
“I’m not. I’m sure everything will be fine,” she said desperately. “We just forgot the condom once.”
“That’s all it takes.”
“But it seems pretty unlikely that we are … that we could be … that anything could happen,” she finished lamely.
She tried to act unconcerned, but inside she was terrified. Marrying Marcos was bad enough, but having his baby? That would be almost worse than marrying Aziz. Because Marcos affected her in ways that Aziz never could.
He tempted her to love him, even knowing the darkness of his soul. He could drag her down into a shadowy world of mixed-up anguish and desire from which she might never emerge.
“I wasn’t made to be a father, do you understand?” he said fiercely. “You can’t be pregnant. It can’t happen.”
She blinked at him, reaching for his hand. “It’s unlikely I’ll fall pregnant but, if it happens, we’ll deal with it.”
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