A Spanish Marriage

by Diana Hamilton

  Zoe accepted her mother-in-law’s assessment of her appearance with a questioning smile. Did a deliberately artlessly piled top knot and a strappy sun-dress that moulded the upper part of her body and flared from her hips to a short skirt constitute flirty? And did Javier think so? The brevity of the tight smile he lobbed in her general direction as he arranged toasted rolls on a linen napkin gave her the distinct impression the jury was out on that one.

  ‘Come.’ Isabella Maria took Zoe’s hand. ‘Let us wait outside and leave my menfolk to the chores they say I am incapable of managing. I’ve heard it said,’ she confided as they emerged onto the terrace and the sunlit mid-morning, ‘that the kitchen is the heart of the home, or the engine room—take your pick. Me, I prefer to know nothing about it.’

  Settling her narrow skirt, she sat at the table in the shade of an angled parasol. ‘My son informs me that he dispensed with Teresa’s excellent services because you and he wished to be alone. Does that mean there is something wrong? Tell me—’ dark eyes took on a gimlet quality, at variance with her smiling mouth ‘—do you make my son happy? Do sit—’ she gestured to the chair nearest hers ‘—and tell me.’

  Zoe inhaled a deep breath of jasmine-scented warm air, not prepared to even hazard a guess as to the answer to that question. Taking her seat, she folded her hands demurely in her lap and asked one back, ‘On the day of my wedding you said you were glad Javier had taken your advice and married me; do you remember?’

  She hadn’t given the remark much thought at the time, but now she was beginning to wonder if there had been more to his proposal than the desire of an honourable man to keep her out of the vicinity of gold-diggers of the male persuasion until she was more mature and able to make the right decisions.

  The older woman’s tinkling laugh sliced through the drowsy silence of the morning like a cleaver. ‘Of course I remember. How could I forget that that son of mine actually took my advice for the first time in his stubborn life? I suppose he thought about what I’d said—though he took his time about it—and realised that it made perfect sense.’

  An icy fist closed around Zoe’s heart and her voice sounded tinny to her own ears as she asked, ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘The obvious—that he should marry you because you’re a considerable heiress!’

  Again the high-pitched tinkling laugh that set Zoe’s teeth on edge and produced the beginnings of what promised to be a pounding headache.

  Isabella Maria’s voice lowered confidentially. ‘Since my son turned eighteen he’s been targeted by the type of woman whose only asset is her looks. He’s a handsome brute with much charisma and, above all, wealth. Natural prey for a woman on the hunt.’

  She sketched a tiny shrug. ‘Like any mother, I’ll admit to wanting to see him settled and happy and producing my grandchildren. But I dreaded the thought that he might fall into the clutches of some dreadful creature whose main interest in him was the size of his bank balance. Apart from the common sense of the tradition of wealth marrying wealth, with money of your own I knew that if he asked you to be his wife, and you accepted, it would be because you truly loved him for himself.’

  ‘I’ve always loved him!’ Zoe found herself blurting, the admission wrung from her as if she had no control over her own tongue.

  ‘And he adores you,’ the older woman announced complacently. ‘I saw that on the day of your wedding.’

  Zoe lowered her eyes. She could feel her mouth begin to tremble. Her mother-in-law knew nothing; she saw what she wanted to see. The only things Javier had felt for her on their wedding day had been a mild affection, a sort of habit thing that had started years ago when he’d taken pity on an orphaned kid, and a teeth-gritting exasperation because in his opinion the grown-up kid had been in danger of going off the rails.

  And as for marrying her because she had money of her own, well—dream on! The funds held in trust for her might seem large to most people, but Javier would regard them as little more than pocket money.

  And when Isabella Maria said archly, ‘Now all I have to do is wait for my first grandchild,’ Zoe had a hard time stopping herself from bursting into tears because a child with her was something Javier was desperate not to have. She’d seen the grin of relief on his too-handsome face when she’d broken what he’d obviously regarded as the welcome news to him, hadn’t she?

  Thankfully the unwanted tête-à-tête was broken when the menfolk appeared with loaded trays. But hardly had the contents been set out on the table than Javier said grimly, ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I have to make a phone call,’ and strode back inside the villa.

  To get in touch with Glenda, set her mind at rest? Tell her he was missing her, too. That he was only here in Spain with the wife who was nothing more than a self-inflicted burden because she’d gone off her trolley, threatening to walk out on him before he, in his so-superior wisdom, deemed she was fit to look after herself. And would he dare to confess that he’d been unfaithful to his mistress and had sex with his wife?

  Cutting off that manic train of thought before it led her into the murky realms of the completely ridiculous, she tuned into the argument that was going on between her in-laws.

  ‘But we’ve only just got here! Am I not allowed to spend time with my own son? I refuse to believe that Javier—’

  ‘Izzy,’ Lionel cut in firmly with an apologetic look in Zoe’s direction. ‘Don’t be difficult. We have the day here and this evening we leave for Almeria. The hotel room is booked. I’ve already told you how Javier explained that, as he had no time to give Zoe the honeymoon she deserved straight after the wedding ceremony—’

  With a pallid smile and a murmur of excuse, Zoe left the table, her breakfast untouched. Her stomach was churning and her legs felt like cotton wool and only carried her as far as the carved stone balustrade. She leant there, grateful for the support, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the wide expanse of manicured lawn, the romantically wild garden beyond and far below the cove where the blue sea creamed gently against the soft white sand.

  She knew how fond Javier was of both his parents. Normally he would have welcomed them with open arms. But nothing about this so-called honeymoon in such a perfect venue was normal.

  While Isabella Maria had been talking to her out here Javier must have put a romantic spin on his need to be alone with his wife. Why? Because the future of their marriage was approaching crunch time and he wouldn’t want anyone around when he told her he now agreed with her earlier statement that they should call it a day?

  Or was he aiming to make this a real honeymoon? After they’d come so close to making love again this morning she could almost believe it. But Glenda’s obvious involvement in his life, the length of time he was spending on the phone to her, rather knocked that belief on the head.

  Giving a muffled groan, Zoe silently admitted that she didn’t know whether she was on her head or her heels. The only constant was her addiction to him, the intense craving for his love, the one thing she needed to make her life complete, the one thing she didn’t look like getting.

  ‘How many times have I told you not to stay out in the sun without a hat?’

  At the sound of his voice her stomach twisted into sick knots. A hand on her burning shoulder turned her. Her eyes locked with his. He was more gorgeous than any man had a right to be; he would turn female heads wherever he went, break female hearts—

  ‘Get back under the shade. Have you eaten a proper breakfast?’

  Once again he was treating her like a large, not-too-bright child. But the grim look was gone. Those smoky eyes were smiling. His conversation with Glenda must have been successful. In the reassurance department?

  Frustratedly admitting that now wasn’t the time to touch on the subject of his mistress past—and present?—Zoe listened to his gently apologetic words as he escorted her back to the table beneath the shade of the parasol. ‘As I’ve virtually shown my folks the door, we’re going to have to make them feel really welcome for the rest
of the day.’ Leaving her to ponder that his uncharacteristic behaviour in telling his beloved parents to scarper must have stemmed from something really important.

  Giving his unwanted wife her marching orders?

  Or making wild passionate love to her, non-stop, no time for noticing anyone else existed?

  Of the two possible scenarios she knew which one she was fervently praying for.

  Ten minutes after returning to the villa, replete with a late lunch—the quayside lobster had lived up to its reputation—they were all relaxing on the terrace at Javier’s insistence when the whup-whup of rotor blades broke through the sleepy silence.

  Isabella Maria gave a prolonged screech when the craft landed on the lawn below the terrace. ‘Are we being invaded!’

  ‘Relax, Mama.’ Javier grinned, rising to his feet. ‘Look at the logo. It’s one of ours, not the mafia!’

  One of the construction company’s fleet, Zoe recognised from the world-famous logo, curiosity momentarily ousting the inner tension that had been eating at her since this morning.

  A dapper little guy with slicked-back black hair, wearing an immaculate pinstriped suit, emerged from his seat beside the pilot carrying a leather briefcase. Must-do work for Javier’s eyes only? Zoe pondered as he mounted the steps to the terrace, noting the man’s obsequious bow in Javier’s direction as he laid the case reverentially on the table.

  ‘Señor Garcia,’ Javier introduced, mentioning a renowned Madrid jeweller, taking the proffered key and unlocking the case himself, opening it to display a glittering array of rings on midnight-blue velvet.

  ‘Fabuloso!’ Isabella Maria squealed, her dark eyes winging from her son’s to the jewels and back again. ‘Por qué? Quién?’

  Ignoring her, Javier turned the force of his bone-melting smile on Zoe. ‘You never did have an engagement ring. This morning I decided to arrange to correct that omission.’

  Her breath went as her heart danced beneath her breasts, her eyes blurring until the display of costly rings became a kaleidoscope of colour and glittering lights. And when Javier came to stand behind her, laying a light hand on her naked shoulder, she quivered, the exquisite sensation of his skin against her skin leaving her feeling light-headed and as weak as a newborn kitten.

  ‘They are all your ring size—choose whichever you like best,’ he murmured as Señor Garcia moved discreetly away.

  Lionel announced, ‘Time to go, Izzy. And don’t put that look on your face!’

  In the flurry of goodbyes—reluctant on Isabella Maria’s part, with her pressing invitations to visit with them at their summer home—Zoe was being thoroughly cross with herself for thinking bad things about her gorgeous husband. He hadn’t been glued to the phone for ages murmuring sweet nothings into his ex-mistress’s ear—he’d been arranging transport for Garcia and his wildly expensive collection of gems.

  Just for her!

  He wouldn’t have made such an impulsive gesture if he wanted rid of her!

  She didn’t deserve him she decided, going all misty-eyed, turning to gaze up at him when they were finally alone again. ‘You can be really romantic,’ she breathed, her heart swelling with love, wondering if he could read it in her eyes.

  But he simply gave her that sizzling smile and a laconic, “‘Romantic” turns you on?’ wondering why he hadn’t taken that tack much earlier on instead of all that Mr Nice Guy stuff.

  ‘You turn me on,’ Zoe confessed honestly, as just looking at him, tall, dark, spectacularly lean and powerful, sent rivers of sexual anticipation scalding through her bloodstream.

  ‘So I have noticed,’ Javier slotted in with massive male satisfaction, graphically reminding her of the way she had wholeheartedly and very actively encouraged his earlier and never-to-be-forgotten sexual attentions.

  Deciding to ignore that rather humiliating observation, she did what his hand gesture commanded and concentrated on the selection of rings.

  Impossible to make a choice, they were all so beautiful. Unused to seeing his Zoe in a state of dither, Javier selected an enormous yellow diamond in a sleekly modern gold setting and slid it onto her finger to sit beside her plain gold wedding band.

  ‘It’s too big!’ Sunlight caught the facets of the costly stone as Javier held her hand out to assess the way it looked against her long, slender fingers.

  ‘Unmissable,’ he confirmed. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘Love it,’ she admitted around the sudden lump in her throat. ‘But it’s got to be wickedly expensive.’

  ‘So?’ Javier gave the uninterested shrug of a man to whom money was no object. Then lifted her hand to his lips and slowly kissed the tips of her fingers, noting the rosy flush that spread across her delicate cheekbones, the rapid pulse beat at the base of her long, elegant throat, the peaking of her exquisite breasts beneath the fine fabric that covered them so lovingly; and congratulated himself on getting the hang of ‘romantic’.

  Contemplating his next move—after he’d got rid of Garcia and the chopper—involving bed and the extraction of promises never again to even think about walking away from their marriage, he bit back a violent oath when his mobile interrupted his imagery of how he would undress her with much lingering at strategic areas.

  His bitten acknowledgement of who was speaking was followed by an immediate descent of arching black brows as he handed the instrument to Zoe. ‘Your grandmother’s companion.’

  Puzzled, Zoe took it. She’d had no contact with Grandmother Alice since her wedding day except for an unchatty card at Christmas time.

  The usually taciturn older woman was alarmingly garrulous, not allowing Zoe to get a word in edge-wise. ‘I’m not supposed to be telling you this but your grandmother’s failing fast. Nothing specific. Just old age and a feeble heart. I know she wants to make her peace with you before anything happens. She’s fretting and it isn’t good for her. She’s got the idea into her head that she didn’t treat you as well as she should have done. I did suggest that I might ask you to visit with her but she all but bit my head off. She’s adamant that if you wanted to see her you’d come without being asked. Very stubborn, your grandmother. So, if you do come, don’t tell her I contacted you. She’d be furious with me and that wouldn’t do at all, not in her state of health. It might finish her off.’

  Watching the colour leach out of Zoe’s face, Javier reached for the phone, gave his name and listened to a repeat of the sorry tale. Eventually he spoke. ‘Zoe will be with you as soon as is humanly possible.’ And cut the connection, the strong slant of his cheekbones taut as he turned to her, wanting to take fate by the throat and throttle it for stepping in and ruining his plans for the wooing of his wife, pushing him in a direction he didn’t want to travel.

  Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, he made himself relax, stop beefing. An old lady was fading; what right had he to get in a selfish strop about it?

  He had never approved of the way Alice Rothwell had treated her orphaned granddaughter but if she was regretting it now, then she deserved to know that at the end she was forgiven. And it would help Zoe, too. That was the most important thing, knowing that the cold, outwardly unloving woman did have some affection for her.

  His voice cool, carefully unrevealing of his feelings, he resigned his definitely hopeful-looking plan of seducing his wife until she was inredeemably hooked on him to the back burner and said, ‘We’d best get a move on,’ and punched in the numbers required to put the company jet on standby.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS dark when the sleek company car finally drew up outside her grandmother’s house. With a feeling of foreboding Zoe glanced at the neat façade, the scene of so much childhood unhappiness. But if the stern, unloving old lady wanted to clear her conscience then she was prepared to do all she could to facilitate it.

  With a terse instruction to the driver to wait, Javier handed Zoe out and extracted her small, hastily packed suitcase from the boot. Two firm strides brought him back to her, and strong yet gentle
hands were positioned on either side of her face, tilting her head so that he could look directly into her eyes by the light from the street lamp. ‘Sweetheart, would you like me to stay here with you? I’ve a feeling this won’t be easy.’

  Zoe would like nothing better but she smothered the desire to say yes, please. She couldn’t be that selfish. There would be no point in him kicking his heels in this gloomy house with two dour old ladies whose idea of a fun evening was criticising the neighbours.

  ‘No. Honestly, I’ll be fine.’ She loved the touch of his hands against her skin, adored the way the lamp light threw his strong bone structure into such stunning relief, felt so strengthened and warmed by his kindness. The inherent kindness she’d instinctively picked up on as a child and had benefited from—admittedly with one or two blips, which had been all her own fault—throughout her time of knowing him.

  ‘I guess this—whatever this is—is something Grandmother Alice and I have to deal with ourselves. You’d only feel like a spare part.’

  Javier’s thoughts exactly. Little as he wanted to be separated from her, not even for a night, when things seemed to be going in the direction he wanted them to go, he knew that she and Alice Rothwell needed the space to at least reach some kind of understanding.

  ‘I’ll only stay a week.’ Zoe’s voice sounded very small as she contemplated that length of separation. But if Grandmother Alice was coming to the end of her life she deserved the relief of getting what she apparently now saw as past wrongs off her chest, to find absolution. After all, the old lady hadn’t wanted the responsibility of bringing her up after the untimely and tragic death of her own son and his wife. But she had taken her in when she might have had her put in a children’s home.

  Javier gritted his teeth and swallowed his stinging objection to what seemed more like a life sentence than a week out of his life. Curving his fingers around her delicate cheekbones, he lowered his head and, unable to stop it happening, captured her lips with raw passion.