A Spanish Marriage

by Diana Hamilton

  Little wonder she was muddled, riven by mixed feelings and terminally depressed.

  The moment she was dressed she would find him and confess her sins of omission and have to watch the grin of relief light up his lean and handsome features and know that her mission to get him to fall in love with her had been a complete failure, all her fond hopes vanishing without a trace.

  Hopes that had taken a steep nosedive when his behaviour had turned so distant after the night of love-making he had to have considered to be a reprehensible mistake because he had shown absolutely no desire for a repeat performance; hopes that had wriggled their deceiving way into her muddled head during the past few days when he had been so kind.

  But ‘kind’ she could do without. It harked right back to his treatment of her during her childhood. A full-grown woman now, she needed more. Much more. And he was patently unwilling to give it.

  As she walked out of the bathroom, feeling as if she were about to face a firing squad, the main door to the suite opened with a decisive swing and the love of her life stood there, determination written all over his hard bone structure.

  Panic brought her heart jumping up into her throat. As always his sensational looks made her mouth run dry. Clutching at the edges of the slipping bath towel and before her courage deserted her she pushed out a bald, ‘I’m not pregnant.’

  For a moment Javier looked poleaxed, his eyes darkening, and it wasn’t a flicker of disappointment she saw there, of course it wasn’t because in the next split second a warm smile was irradiating his unforgettable features.

  A smile of wholehearted relief, she decided sickly. He would not now be called upon to do his duty. In a little under a year’s time he would sling his hook, smugly congratulating himself that as far as her well-being was concerned he had done everything that could be expected of him.

  The depth of his disappointment shocked Javier for the few moments it took to remind himself he was being utterly selfish. He might want to see her hold his child in her arms, but worrying about the possibility had been making her ill. He had to think of how relieved she must be feeling and not dwell on his own disappointment.

  He made himself smile and advanced a step towards the tense little darling, all wrapped up in a towel like a parcel waiting to be opened, her silvery gold hair tumbling in enchanting disarray around her naked shoulders. His voice sounded strangely roughened as he told her warmly, ‘Then from now on you can stop worrying. I know you have been.’

  He knew nothing! Patronising hog!

  ‘I’ve known for a good five days, so don’t pretend you can read my mind!’ she flung at him in temper, thoroughly hating him for that grin of utter relief at being let off the hook that his pride and his honour would have had him impaled on for the rest of his life.

  And hating herself even more for immediately bursting into a torrent of tears and giving way to out-of-control sobs when his strong arms enfolded her, one gentle hand pressing her head against the accommodating wide span of his shoulder.

  ‘Hush, sweetheart. I can’t bear to see you cry! It really cuts me up,’ Javier uttered on a driven undertone and Zoe felt she had been somehow swept back over a decade in time. Wrenching her head away from what she didn’t want to admit to being the comfort of his solid shoulder, she flailed her small fists against the immovable barrier of his chest.

  ‘I’m not an eight-year-old kid any more!’ she bit out in raw-edged fury. ‘So don’t treat me like one! Next thing you’ll be saying, “There there” and promising to buy me an ice cream if I wipe my eyes and blow my nose!’ Breasts heaving with emotion, tear-drenched eyes flashing fire in his direction, Zoe ranted at him. She knew she was being unfair. Few men would enjoy the spectacle of a woman turning on the waterworks, and he’d only been trying to make her stop blubbering. But that knowledge didn’t prevent her from renewing her assault on that broad chest and doing her damnedest to put space between them.

  But Javier simply hauled her closer to the lean, hard strength of his body, amusement curling that wide, sensual mouth, his voice dark and drawly. ‘Should I also go the whole hog and offer to kiss you better?’

  Zoe’s heart gave a violent lurch. Her wide eyes met the suddenly smouldering intensity of his and her mouth ran dry. A tiny quiver assailed her as she felt her skin tighten. His mouth promised passion. Her own lips softened, parting on a slight tremor as the hands that had been holding her captive became instruments of exquisite torture as they slid up to splay against the naked skin of her shoulder blades. Her head began to spin and she thought she heard herself moan as the aggression melted out of her fisted hands and her palms flattened over the soft fabric of his T-shirt and registered the rapid beat of his heart.

  And then that perfect, intoxicatingly sexy male mouth descended to take hers and fireworks exploded inside the entirety of Zoe’s being. Her slim arms lifted to twine around his neck and the towel slipped to the floor and this time the driven groan came from him as his hands travelled down the line of her spine, settled with male possessiveness on her hips and curved her against his hard body.

  Zoe’s fingers tangled in the luxuriance of his thick black hair as the mastery of his mouth sent her spinning to heaven, too dizzy and disorientated to take in what he was saying when his mouth parted from hers and he asked on a thickened undertone, ‘Is this what you want? You have to be sure. Tell me now—I’m not made of stone.’

  Gazing up into the breathtaking feverish glitter of his darkened eyes, Zoe missed his mouth like crazy. She wanted it back. Now. Pressing even closer, if that were possible, she claimed what she craved, drowning in euphoria as she felt the deep shudder rake its way through his honed, lean frame as his lips ravished hers with blistering passion.

  He did want her, was the exultant thought that made its way through her fogged brain. His body betrayed how much. He wasn’t indifferent! With an instinct as old as Eve her hips rotated against his in out-of-control need.

  ‘Zoe—’ Sheer will-power brought his mouth from the honeyed nectar of hers, aware that his voice sounded like the rasp of an iron file. The beautiful little minx was driving him wild, everything getting way out of hand—

  The hard tips of her breasts scorched through his T-shirt. His sanity was on the verge of leaving him. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his fingers sliding under the thick silver-gold hair that fell softly around her flushed face, a perfect frame for those liquid topaz eyes fringed with ridiculously long lashes, delicate cheekbones and lush, ripe lips.

  He pushed her name out again, then dragged back some of his slipping sanity. ‘Wait—’

  ‘Can’t!’ She trembled with the tension he was racking up, turned her head to one side and kissed the palm of his hand. The need he had aroused in her when she’d thought that making love to her again was the last thing he wanted was unbearable.

  But he dropped a light kiss on her parted lips, another on the point of her neat chin, then ran unsteady hands down over her almost painfully sensitised breasts, slickly over the slight curve of her tummy before coming to rest on the soft, silky curls between her thighs, making all the breath rush out of her lungs.

  ‘I’ll be two seconds,’ he promised on a raw intake of air. ‘I won’t put you through another pregnancy scare,’ he imparted. Javier took a step away, against every instinct. Had to move before he lost the ability to think straight. ‘Have to protect you this time,’ he told her gently as she reached out to slip her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, the words that were about to tumble from her tongue, telling him that she wanted his baby with all her heart and soul dying in her throat as a raised female voice cut through the heavily charged atmosphere.

  Shocked into stillness, it was Javier who broke the sudden silence with a vehement oath in a language Zoe took to be Spanish, tacking on, ‘My mother!’

  The tap of high heels on the polished hardwood floorboards, the, ‘Javier! Teresa! Is no one here?’ had Zoe realising she was naked and scrambling to cover herself with the bath t
owel, just as the door swung open to frame Isabella Maria wearing an aqua silk two-piece and a delighted grin.

  ‘So there you are! The place was like the Marie Celeste. We’ve come to surprise you!’

  The hard flush that had stained Javier’s jutting cheekbones receding, he said drily, ‘Perfect timing, as usual, Mama.’ He draped an arm round Zoe’s shoulders and Isabella Maria, not recognising sarcasm when she heard it, broadened her smile.

  ‘Good! Your father said we wouldn’t be welcome. But I told him not to be so foolish. You’re well past the honeymoon stage and likely to shoot intruders on sight! You do realise, don’t you, that I haven’t seen either of you for a whole year?’

  ‘Is that so?’ Javier’s tone was dryer than the desert. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we were about to take a shower, weren’t we, darling?’

  At the increased pressure on her shoulder, Zoe swallowed a giggle, managed a nod, and managed not to explode with manic laughter when Javier instructed his parent, ‘Make breakfast, Mama. Zoe and I enjoy fending for ourselves, but as you’re here you might as well do it.’

  A series of decisive strides took him to Isabella Maria’s side. A hand clamped beneath her elbow, he escorted her back through the door, firmly closing it in her surprised wake.

  His hands spread, he turned to Zoe, his mouth wry as he murmured drolly, ‘What can I say?’

  ‘That you ought to fix padlocks on the doors?’ Zoe’s smile was wobbly because rivers of frustration were rushing through her veins, making her bones ache.

  But a slashing grin of amusement curved Javier’s sensational mouth. ‘There’s a thought!’ Veiled, dark-as-charcoal eyes lingered on her lush, kiss-swollen mouth. He gave himself a savage mental shake and headed to the bathroom door. ‘I’ll take another cold shower while you dress.’

  ‘Javier—wait—’ Towel trailing, Zoe trotted after him, determined not to linger one moment longer in this state of limbo. How did he see their future long-term? Would they still be together beyond the further year he had originally stipulated? Or not? Was he just using her for sex because he was a normal, virile male and she was more than willing and definitely available?

  ‘We would have had sex again,’ she blurted thickly, hot colour washing over her face. But he had called a temporary halt because even in the coils of steamy passion he couldn’t face the thought of being trapped by the fear of an unwanted pregnancy all over again. ‘We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. We have to talk.’

  He had gone very still. The muscles of his arm beneath the hand that had stayed him were like rigid iron bars. As if he no longer wanted her to touch him, Zoe decided with anguish.

  Noting with a sinking feeling that she’d said having sex and not making love, Javier studied her with dark, intense eyes. Her colour had receded, leaving her skin pale and translucent. She was so lovely, so loved, it made his heart ache. And so sexually responsive it blew his mind. What was she trying to imply? That sex changed nothing? That she still wanted to go? Of course they had to talk, that had always been on his agenda. But his parents’ wretched surprise visit seemed to have robbed him of the time he needed.

  Battening down his rage at the untimely interruption to his plans to get his wife well and truly addicted to him, he told her with forced lightness, ‘We’ll talk later. Tonight. That’s a promise. Right now I can’t ensure Mama won’t come steaming back in here in a panic.’

  Shuddering inside with the strength of his frustration, he managed a soft placatory kiss on her startled mouth. ‘She’s never had to make a meal in the whole of her pampered life. Even now she’s probably trying to figure out how to make toast and will breeze back in here demanding to know why Teresa isn’t doing the job she’s been handsomely paid to do!’

  Zoe’s hand dropped from his arm as he swung away. Even now her every cell fizzed with the erotic memories of what had been happening before Isabella Maria had broken into what would appear to be sheer fantasy.

  Her fantasy that sexual desire equated with love. It didn’t; it wasn’t a given. Walking with a marked lack of enthusiasm into the dressing room to pick out something to wear, Zoe focussed on the way Javier had so lightly shrugged off what had happened.

  He’d been going to make love to her—no, she amended, determined to call a spade a spade even if it did hurt horribly. He’d been going to have sex with her. The interruption had caused him a minor physical inconvenience. Nothing more. True, he’d promised they’d talk everything through tonight.

  But Zoe wasn’t at all sure she would like what he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘LEAVE that to me, Mama.’ Javier took the cafetière from Isabella Maria’s long white hands. He’d showered and dressed at the speed of light to get down before Zoe emerged. He didn’t need an audience when he told his parents to hop it. ‘You don’t put it directly on the stove to boil.’ Ruefully affectionate exasperation roughened his tone as he pointed out, ‘You’re worse than a two-year-old around anything that smacks remotely of domesticity!’ He tipped out the cold water and, at a guess, half a pound of soggy coffee grounds, while Isabella Maria raised her eyes to the ceiling and shrugged her elegant shoulders.

  ‘Why would I want to know my way around kitchens?’ she asked without a shadow of defensiveness in her voice. ‘There are people about who are paid to see to that sort of thing for me. And, in any case, why is Teresa not here?’

  ‘I told her her services were not required beyond a daily delivery of fresh produce. Zoe and I wanted to be alone.’ Javier told it as it was as the kettle boiled and he poured the hot water over the fresh coffee grounds. And if that wasn’t a big enough hint then he’d lay it on with a trowel.

  And Lionel Masters, hovering in the open arched doorway as he wandered in from the terrace, listening to the exchange with a barely hidden smile, put in, ‘Didn’t I warn you a surprise visit wouldn’t be welcome?’

  ‘My only son not welcome his mama!’ Black eyes flashed scorn. A pampered, perfectly manicured hand was laid against Javier’s lean bronzed cheek. ‘Do not say such foolish things, husband! What are two, three days? Besides—’ dark eyes held a reproachful gleam ‘—I have a private message for Javier, remember?’

  Not waiting for Lionel’s confirmation, Isabella Maria announced primly, ‘I have had rabid phone calls from a former enamorada—Glenda Havers, she called herself. She appears to be quite desperate to see you. She tried Ethel and Joe at Wakeham, but they on your instructions apparently refused to tell her where you were. She tried your London apartment, then the staff at Head Office—but you’d told no one there where you would be, or how long you’d be away. So as a last resort she contacted me, your mama.’

  Laying a dramatic hand across her silk-clad bosom, she imparted, ‘Naturally, I didn’t say where you were, I was most discreet. I merely—and reluctantly, I might add—promised to pass on the message.’ She shook her exquisitely coiffed head disapprovingly. ‘Why she should need to have contact with you so desperately and in the shortest possible time, I neither know, or wish to. The likes of that one should have been put behind you since your marriage.’

  Outside the door, Zoe heard every word and her stomach curdled. She’d taken her time over choosing what to wear, wanting to look her best to help her face the rest of the day with courage. Get through the long hours before tonight when Javier would finally tell her what he wanted of her and their marriage.

  That he’d been going to make love to her didn’t give her the answer. He was a normal virile male, wasn’t he? Why shouldn’t he take advantage of his willing wife? It didn’t mean he was thinking of a lifetime of devotion, stuff like that. Like a lot of men, he could enjoy sex without his emotions being involved.

  Her nerves had been on edge and now they were screaming. If she’d breezed straight into the kitchen instead of dawdling reluctantly towards the source of the voices she wouldn’t have overheard. They said ignorance was bliss, didn’t they?

  Glenda. Glenda Havers. To her knowledge th
e luscious brunette had stayed the course with Javier for far longer than the few weeks it took him to grow bored with a new conquest.

  And not only because she had obliged him by accompanying his self-inflicted ward on the grown-up holiday treats he’d promised her?

  Was Glenda Havers still special to him? Had it been her laughter she’d heard when Javier had spoken to her from his hotel room in Cannes? Had she been his close travelling companion on those increasingly regular business trips he’d taken?

  And why was she so desperate to make contact with him? Because their affair was long-standing, their relationship running deep, and they couldn’t bear to be out of touch with each other for longer than a day or two?

  So many questions and no answers. Zoe took a deep breath, briefly closed her eyes and swallowed convulsively. Later, she would demand those answers. But would Javier tell her the truth?

  Would he tell her what she was helplessly trying not to suspect—that in a year’s time, when their marriage was over and his duty was done, he would probably decide it was time to settle down and marry his mistress of many years’ standing?

  And would she be able to bear it?

  Straightening her slender shoulders, she pinned a smile on her face and walked into the kitchen where Javier was toasting rolls and Lionel was loading a tray with china, fruit and honey ready to carry out to the table on the terrace, the activities watched over by a languid Isabella Maria.

  ‘Zoe—how lovely you look! I wish I could wear sugar-pink but I can’t, it makes me look positively sallow! And now I’m getting jealous—when I was your age I would not have been allowed to dress in anything as flirty as a sun-dress. How times change for the better!’