One Night In Collection

by Various Authors

  ‘And did it? Did you make mistakes?’ Something must have happened to make Carlos Herrera add the marriage clause to his will.

  ‘Only one.’ His smile faded and he subjected her to a cool stare. ‘I appointed a man called Angus Beresford to manage the British subsidiary of the bank.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Grace’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Did your grandfather know…?’

  ‘That the man in whom I had put all my faith turned out to be a common thief who abused his position to embezzle a fortune from El Banco de Herrera? Oh yes, he knew. My grandfather made it his business to know everything. For years he groomed me to take his place as head of the bank, but when he was dying he learned of your father’s deception and it caused him to doubt my abilities as a good judge of character.’ Javier gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Carlos obviously concluded that a wife would take care of my sexual desires, leaving my mind free to focus on business.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Grace mumbled, feeling her heart lurch in her chest. ‘Is that how you view our marriage, Javier—as a means of convenient sexual satisfaction?’

  ‘I regard our marriage as a damned inconvenience,’ he informed her harshly. ‘And I have no intention of allowing anyone besides us to discover the true reason behind it. But there is a certain irony about the fact that in order to adhere to my grandfather’s demands I am to wed the daughter of the man who caused Carlos to doubt me in the first place.’ His eyes trailed a scorching path down her body and settled on the soft swell of her breasts revealed by the daring neckline of her dress. ‘Although I can see that there will be definite compensations in making you my bride, querida.’

  ‘What sort of compensations?’ Grace croaked as panic swept through her. She had assumed that their marriage would be in name only; it hadn’t occurred to her that Javier would expect her to fulfil the full duties of a wife. The car drew to a halt and she inhaled sharply at the sight of the assembled press pack waiting outside the hotel. She couldn’t do this, she thought frantically, tugging at the sapphire ring which seemed to be glued to her finger. She had to end it now, before her farcical engagement led to the reality of becoming Javier Herrera’s virgin bride.

  ‘Compensations such as this …’ Something in his voice brought her head round and she swallowed at the lambent heat in his eyes. Too late she realised his intention but before she could jerk away from him he caught hold of her chin and lowered his head.

  He had kissed her briefly at the castle earlier that day—a fierce, brutal assault that had left her reeling. Remembering it, Grace steeled herself, confident that he would not draw a response from her. But, although his lips were firm on hers, they were warm and sensuous as he skilfully coaxed her mouth apart.

  She should not be allowing him to do this, Grace thought dazedly, but her willpower seemed to have deserted her. If she was honest, she had fantasised about his kiss since she’d first seen him at El Castillo de Leon, and now, instead of rejecting him, she was trembling with excitement. Molten heat flooded through her veins so that she felt boneless, unable to prevent herself from leaning into him, so that she was pressed against the hard wall of his chest.

  He used his tongue with skilful precision to explore the contours of her mouth and she gave a low murmur when he probed between her lips in an intimate caress that was blatantly erotic. He slid his hand beneath her hair to cup her neck and haul her even closer. Grace could feel the erratic thud of his heart echoing in time with her own and, utterly captivated by the haze of sensual energy, she curled her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his silky black hair.

  She had never felt like this before, not even when Richard, who she had believed was the love of her life, had kissed her. Nothing had prepared her for the white-hot flame of desire that threatened to overwhelm her, and when she felt Javier cup her breast in his hand she moaned softly and strained against him, wanting more.

  ‘That should do it. I want you to look ravished, but not as though you’ve just stumbled from my bed and can’t wait to return there.’

  The coolly sardonic comment doused her passion as effectively as a bucket of cold water thrown over her head. Scarlet-cheeked, Grace snatched her hands from his shoulders and tried to avoid his mocking gaze. ‘You bastard,’ she whispered shakily.

  ‘I don’t think the press can be in any doubt of our passion for each other, do you, querida? You look suitably smitten with your adoring fiancé—all you have to do now is keep up the pretence for the rest of the evening.’ From his amused tone it was obvious that Javier was aware there had been no pretence, on her part at least. She’d practically eaten him alive, Grace thought miserably, feeling sick with mortification. How could she have responded to him so wantonly when she knew how much he despised her?

  The chauffeur opened the door and Javier gripped her wrist, as if he knew that she wanted to slink into the corner of the car and stay there. ‘Smile, querida, before the photographers become suspicious and I have to kiss you again,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘In tomorrow’s papers I want the world to see that our marriage is a love match made in heaven.’

  Quivering with resentment, Grace pinned a smile to her face and was almost blinded by the array of flash bulbs from the paparazzi assembled on the pavement. ‘We both know that our union was devised in the fires of hell,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. ‘I doubt I’ll fool anyone into believing that I’m in love with you.’

  His hand settled on her waist and seemed to burn through her dress, branding her flesh. ‘On the contrary, I thought you were very convincing,’ he drawled as he guided her firmly up the steps and into the hotel foyer. ‘But if you insist we can always put in more practice later tonight. Now, here’s our host. Remember what’s at stake here, Grace,’ he warned silkily. ‘Your father’s freedom depends on you giving a performance worthy of a Hollywood starlet.’

  The banquet was a prestigious affair held in honour of members of Spain’s top business establishments. Grace felt overawed by the splendour of the ornate banqueting hall and wished she had more time to admire the stunning artwork adorning the walls and the exquisite chandeliers overhead.

  Instead she had to suffer the ordeal of the formal dinner that seemed to last for hours. Worse was to come when, at the end of the meal, Javier stood and announced their engagement. In front of a sea of faces, she was forced to get to her feet and accept the congratulations of the other guests. A toast was called in honour of the happy couple and, to her horror, Javier then swept her into his arms and kissed her, much to the delight of their fascinated onlookers.

  Her humiliation was complete, she acknowledged bitterly when he finally released her and she sank low into her chair. Even when she’d felt the eyes of several hundred strangers on her, she had been unable to resist the sweet seduction of his lips. For a few mindless seconds she’d felt as though they were the only two people in the room, and when he’d lifted his head her lashes had swept down too late to disguise the hunger in her eyes.

  What was happening to her? Grace wondered desperately as she watched Javier move with lithe grace across the dance floor. With dinner over, the party had moved into the ballroom, where it was instantly apparent that every woman in the room had their eyes on one man. It was hardly surprising, she conceded. In a room full of sophisticated males, Javier stood head and shoulders above the rest.

  It had nothing to do with wealth or status, it was the man himself—powerful, dominant and devastatingly sexy—who captured the imagination of every female present. His façade of urbane charm could not fully disguise his raw masculinity. There was a wildness about him, and wasn’t it every woman’s secret fantasy to tame the untameable?

  Not that it was one of her fantasies, Grace though irritably. She didn’t have fantasies, or at least she hadn’t until now. Even during her engagement to Richard he had never aroused in her the fever pitch of wild emotions that Javier evoked. She’d always assumed that she possessed a low sex drive, and now was not a good time to discover that her libido was alive
and kicking.

  ‘You appear to have been deserted by your fiancé. Is that the reason you look so sad, Miss Beresford?’

  Grace dragged her eyes from the dance floor and glanced at the woman who had sat down at her table. The Condesa Mercedes de Reyes was the wife of one of Madrid’s most influential businessmen. Frighteningly sophisticated and fluent in several languages including English, she was, Grace guessed, a consummate gossip. ‘I’m not sad, señora, I was just … thinking,’ she murmured politely.

  The Condesa glanced across the ballroom to where Javier was still entwined with a stunning blonde, whose scarlet dress clung to her abundant curves like a second skin. The music had stopped but neither seemed aware of the fact. ‘I’m curious to know your thoughts, my dear,’ she said softly.

  Grace could not prevent her eyes from straying back to the dance floor. Javier’s partner was the wife of one of his business associates, and it was perfectly reasonable for him to dance with her. There was no reason for this ridiculous feeling of pique, she reminded herself impatiently. Their engagement was a sham and she couldn’t care less who he danced with. ‘I was admiring Javier’s dancing skill,’ she said, hastily averting her gaze from the Condesa’s knowing glance.

  ‘Yes, the Duque de Herrera is a prime specimen of masculinity, isn’t he? He’s quite a catch. Tell me, my dear …’ The Condesa leaned forwards, her black eyes gleaming speculatively. ‘How did you meet?’

  Oh hell! ‘We met during one of Javier’s business trips to England. He’s a … friend of my father’s.’

  ‘But you can’t have known each other long—this is the first occasion that you have been seen publicly together.’

  Colour stained Grace’s cheeks and she licked her lips nervously as she tried to remember the story Javier had fabricated about their phoney romance. He was the one who had insisted that the real reason for their marriage should remain a secret, damn it. He should be here, helping her to fend off the Condesa instead of pawing the lady in red on the dance floor.

  ‘We’ve known each other for a few months,’ she explained, hoping that the lie sounded convincing. ‘But at first we chose to keep our relationship out of the spotlight. Falling in love is a very private matter, don’t you think?’

  ‘So it is a love match, then?’ The Condesa’s finely plucked eyebrows arched in evident surprise. ‘I did not expect it of Javier. It seems you have succeeded where many others have failed, Miss Beresford—and captured the heart of the lion. Do you love him?’

  Grace caught the faint note of disbelief in the Condesa’s voice. It was clear that the older woman was not wholly convinced that the Duque de Herrera would choose such a drab mouse for his bride. Indignation stirred in Grace’s breast and she lifted her chin. Her relationship with Javier might be nothing more than a business proposition, but there was no reason for the world to know. ‘I love Javier with all my heart,’ she said firmly. ‘He is the other half of my soul, and I can’t wait for the day that I will promise to spend the rest of my life with him.’

  ‘Ah, Grace, you take my breath away, cara mia.’ A familiar sexy drawl sounded in Grace’s ear and she gasped and swung round, her startled gaze clashing with a pair of flashing amber eyes. ‘I too am impatient for the day that I will make you my wife.’ The secretive gleam in Javier’s eyes reminded Grace of just why he was so impatient. He wanted to claim his place as head of the Herrera bank. She was simply a means to an end, and possibly an amusing diversion from his usual fare of glamorous mistresses. Before long she was going to have to set down some ground rules for their marriage, she decided grimly.

  ‘Dance with me, querida?’

  Before she could protest, he drew her into his arms and swept her onto the dance floor where he pulled her against the hard length of his body. It was all part of the game, Grace told herself sternly when she felt each of her nerve endings spring into vibrant life. The way he was holding her as if she was infinitely precious to him was his way of proving to the other guests that they were in love and couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Only she knew that his hand was clamped to her hip like a vice, preventing her escape.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ she hissed when the tempo changed to a slow ballad and he held her so close that she was aware of every muscle and sinew of his powerful thighs rubbing sensuously against her. It was almost impossible to hold herself stiffly within the circle of his arms when the sensual heat from his body was inviting her to relax and rest her head on his chest. ‘I think I managed to convince the Condesa that I’m wildly in love with you.’

  ‘I admit I’m impressed with your acting skills, querida. For a moment you almost had me convinced.’ His mocking taunt and the soft chuckle that fanned the sensitive flesh of her inner ear was the final straw.

  ‘Obviously I was lying through my back teeth. I can’t imagine any sane woman losing their heart to you. You’re utterly unlovable.’

  ‘My mother used to say the same thing.’ Amusement still coloured his voice, but when Grace glanced up at him she found his eyes hooded, hiding his thoughts. Thoroughly disconcerted, she stumbled, and he instantly tightened his grip around her waist so that her face was pressed against the soft silk of his shirt.

  ‘All mothers love their children. Why would she have said that?’ she mumbled, resisting the urge to lay her hand over his heart, which was thudding beneath her ear.

  He shrugged indifferently. ‘Perhaps because it’s true.’ He looked down at her, noting her confusion and the faint flare of pity in her eyes. She was so tiny that he felt like a giant capable of crushing her in his hands. But he didn’t want to hurt her. To his surprise, he realised that he was impatient to be alone with her rather than on public display at this damned party. She was a small grey dove in a room full of peacocks, but for some reason he ached to taste her again and feel the softness of her lips beneath his own.

  For the first time in his life he felt compelled to try and explain why he was devoid of normal human emotions. Usually he didn’t give a damn about anyone else’s opinion of him, but something in Grace’s gentle expression made him want to reveal a little of the man behind the mask and reveal the reasons why Javier Herrera had ruthlessly banished love from his life.

  ‘My mother married my father purely for his money, and possibly the prestige of becoming the next Duquesa de Herrera,’ he explained dryly. ‘Unfortunately for her, my grandfather was not as gullible as his son. He issued my father with an ultimatum—if he married my mother, he would lose all claim to the castillo, the bank and the Herrera fortune.’ Javier’s lip curled into a cynical smile. ‘Being a fool, my father chose to marry my mother, and my grandfather refused to have anything more to do with him.’

  ‘You mean your grandfather cut your father out of his life for ever?’ Grace queried, unable to disguise her shock. ‘Did he really never see him again?’

  ‘The Herreras’ do not go back on their word,’ Javier told her harshly. ‘Carlos knew that Fernando’s brain was already addled by drugs, frequently obtained by my mother. He disinherited him and banished him from El Castillo de Leon.’

  On the periphery of her mind Grace was aware of the music, and her feet moved automatically in time with the beat as Javier steered her around the dance floor. But she was reeling from his stark revelations about his family. Carlos Herrera must have been a cruel and heartless man to have turned his back on his own son. Was it any surprise that his grandson had inherited the same attributes? ‘But what about you—I assumed you had spent your childhood at the castillo.’

  ‘Born into unimaginable wealth, you mean?’ Javier taunted her, forcing her to recall her bitter accusations when she had visited him at El Castillo de Leon. His eyes narrowed when she blushed. ‘I spent the first years of my life as a travelling peasant—a gypsy child as wild as the dogs who belonged to the circus troupe my mother worked for. When she wasn’t earning a living lying on her back.’

  He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes no longer gleaming gold but cold an
d emotionless. ‘Once she realised that my grandfather would never accept her, she turned against my father and the son that she had conceived by accident. I was a nuisance child, unlovable and unloved, and when she hooked up with a wealthy lover she abandoned me to the care of my pitiful, half-crazed father.’

  ‘What happed to him?’ Grace whispered.

  ‘He died of an overdose a few months after my mother left him. Poor fool that he was, he still loved her, despite everything she’d done to him. I learned early on that love is a cruel and destructive emotion, Grace, and even as a child I vowed it would have no place in my life. My grandfather eventually learned of my father’s death. Until then he’d had no idea of my existence, but he immediately brought me to the castillo. I discovered my heritage, and trust me, querida, I will stop at nothing to retain my birthright.’

  Grace stared up at him, her heart in her eyes. As a child she had known nothing but love and affection from her parents, and even after her mother’s illness had been diagnosed her life at Littlecote had been blissfully happy. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend Javier’s dismal upbringing. No wonder he quashed his emotions so ruthlessly when he had never experienced unconditional love.

  For a moment she pictured him as the lonely young boy he must have been—the boy who had grown into a hard and pitiless man. Were there any chinks in his armour? And what did it matter to her? Why did she care? Her father’s freedom was the only thing that mattered, and she would be foolish to soften her heart towards ‘el Leon’ who lived alone in his castle in the mountains.

  ‘It’s such an awful story. I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured, unable to prevent the faint tremor of her lower lip. Javier’s gaze focused intently on her mouth as he wrapped a strand of her long hair around his hand and jerked her head up.