Carrying the Spaniard's Child Read online

  “Of course not. I’m just not a good dancer, I...”

  But he didn’t listen to her excuses. Gently, he pulled her from the chair, into his arms. He felt her body tremble against his. The fairy lights twinkled above the terrace, as they looked out at the moon-swept lake. They were alone.

  “I’ll lead,” he murmured, and he twirled her slowly around the flagstone terrace. He watched her sway, light as air. Saw the beauty of her. The kindness. The way she’d sacrificed for her younger brothers. The way she’d sacrificed for the man she’d once thought she would marry.

  Damn, he thought. What a mother she will make.

  What a wife.

  He whirled her close, then caught her tight in his arms. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in her breath as she saw his intention.

  Slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  She didn’t fight him, but closed her eyes, letting him hold her close. He closed his eyes and kissed her, really kissed her.

  Lightning shattered through his body, through his soul, in the embrace. He felt her tremble, pressing her body against his.

  Then she ripped away, her eyes tortured.

  “Why are you doing this?” she choked out.

  “Doing what?”

  “Romancing me,” she said bitterly, “like the night you seduced me. I’m not going to fall for it again, so you can break my heart!” She pressed her palm against his chest, pushing him away. “Just tell me what you want from me.”

  The stars above them sparkled in the wide, velvety black sky as he looked down at her. It was too soon. He had barely started to seduce her as he wished. But she wanted him to speak plainly, so he would. He had that much respect for her.

  “Very well,” he said quietly. Reaching into his tuxedo jacket pocket, he lowered himself to one knee, holding up the huge diamond ring. It glittered brighter and bigger than the full moon shining across the endless Texas sky. “I want you to marry me, Belle.”

  She gaped at him, looking from the ring to his face and back again.

  “I know I’ve treated you badly,” he said. “But I’ll never make that mistake again. I’ll never lie to you, Belle. We’ll be more than lovers. We’ll be partners. Parents. I know you want love, and I regret I cannot give you that. But I offer you something better.”

  “Better than love?” she whispered. He nodded.

  “My loyalty. You never betrayed me. I will never betray you. I’ve made very few promises in life, but I’m making one to you now. If you marry me, I’ll make sure you’re never alone again. Our marriage will be for life.”

  “For life?” She looked stricken. She said hoarsely, “I might consider a temporary marriage...to give our baby a name....”

  “No.” His expression hardened. “A real marriage, Belle. A real home. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what our baby deserves from us?”

  She looked away and whispered, “I don’t know.”

  Rising to his feet, he pulled her close and growled, “I think you do.”

  Her dark gaze seared his. “I want to marry someone I can love and respect. And you’re not that man, Santiago, you know you’re not.”

  The words caused a stab in his solar plexus. He hadn’t known he could still be hurt by rejection. He’d thought he’d buried his heart long ago. To be hurt now, when he was trying his best to please her, when he was trying his best to be honest, stung him to the core.

  He took a deep breath. “Love—perhaps not. But we both love our daughter. And if you give me a chance,” he said in a low voice, “I will earn your respect. I swear it.”

  She looked at the fairy lights and the flowers on the stone table, at the diamond ring still in his hand.

  “I’m not your toy,” she said in a small voice. “Just because we slept together once and conceived this child, you can’t just have me whenever you want amusement. You don’t have any permanent claim over me.”

  “You’re wrong.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I do have a permanent claim. Just as you’ve had a claim over me, from the moment you came to my bed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You,” he whispered, cupping her cheek. “And how you’ve bewitched me.”

  Her eyes were big as she looked up at him. “You can find someone else—”

  “No.”

  “Yes you can! You’ve been with dozens of women since that night. Supermodels, actresses, socialites...” Her voice cut off as their eyes met. She choked out, “Haven’t you?”

  Never looking away, he shook his head, his jaw tight. “There’s been no one. Because I don’t want any other woman. I haven’t, since our night together. I’ve only hungered for you.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at her. His voice was a growl. “You will belong to me, Belle. You have no choice. I already belong to you.”

  * * *

  I already belong to you.

  It wasn’t romantic. At all. He said it, Belle thought, as if he felt trapped. Oppressed, even. His dark eyes glittered.

  “Are you telling me,” she breathed, “you’ve been celibate all these months?”

  “Yes.” His voice was a low growl.

  “But—but why?”

  His eyes were dark. “You’ve ensorcelled me.”

  Ensorcelled. Such a strange, old-fashioned word. Such a gleam in his dark eyes and his powerful body towering over her with all his strength. She suddenly felt like she’d gone back hundreds of years, to a simpler time.

  Belle shivered, struggling not to feel so aware of his body close to hers. His eyes were dark beneath the softly swaying lights. She saw the arrogant curve of his dangerously seductive mouth.

  He was right, she realized. She did belong to him. From the moment he’d kissed her that cold January night.

  No. She couldn’t pretend it had been just that. It had been more.

  She’d been able to be honest with him that night in a way she hadn’t been since her mother died. She never had to pretend with Santiago. She didn’t have to act cheerful and happy all the time. She could actually be herself.

  She did want him. His warmth. His strength. She wanted the man who’d seduced her that cold winter’s night, not just with his body, but with his words.

  The only thing that kept her from falling into his arms now was remembering how she’d felt waking up alone that gray January morning, and all the mornings after, when he ignored message after frantic message.

  “But I can’t trust you,” she said in a small voice. “Not anymore. If I give myself to you, how do I know I won’t be left broken-hearted and alone?”

  “Your heart will be safe. I’ll never ask for it.” Reaching out, he stroked her shoulder. His soft touch over the fabric of her red dress felt like fire. “And you’ll never be alone again.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath as he kissed her palm, then the back of her hand. “Never,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t hide her shiver beneath his seductive caress. Looking up at his darkly handsome face beneath the moonlight, at his powerful body towering over hers in the tuxedo, she wondered wildly if he could hear the pounding of her heart. “I can’t...”

  “Are you sure?” he whispered. Brushing back her hair, he kissed her forehead. Her cheeks. She trembled in his arms, hovering on the edge of surrender.

  “Please don’t do this.” Pressing her palms against the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, she lifted her tearful gaze to his. “You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “So tell me.”

  Her hands tightened.

  “To give up all hope of being loved,” she choked out. “Now and forever.”

  “That kind of love is an illusion.” He drew back. “I know. My mother was a maid working in my father’s palace when she
got pregnant with me. He was already married, and his duchess was heavily pregnant. He must not have found his wife sexually appealing, because one afternoon he pushed my mother into a closet and kissed her.” His lips twisted. “She was barely nineteen, and so wrapped up in fairy-tale dreams she convinced herself the duke loved her. That only lasted until she got pregnant, too, and he threw her out of the palace. She was suddenly poor, a single mother, and dreams don’t pay the bills. She thought only love could save her. So she married. Five times.”

  Santiago had never told her anything about his childhood before. Not one word. She sucked in her breath. “Five marriages?”

  “And each husband worse than the last. Each time, her heart was broken. She didn’t want to raise me alone,” he said lightly. “She couldn’t relax at night. Couldn’t sleep. So she took sleeping pills. One night she took too many and died.”

  “How old were you?” she said, aghast.

  “Fourteen. I called an ambulance when I found her. The authorities dragged me from the house and I was sent to an orphanage.”

  “Why didn’t you go to your father?”

  He snorted. “My father already had a son and heir. He did not care to recognize the bastard result of his affair with a maid. When I tried to see him at his palace in Madrid, he set the dogs on me.”

  “How could he?” Belle breathed.

  Santiago turned away, blankly staring toward the pearlescent moonlight trailing across the lake. He finally looked at her.

  “The man did me a favor,” he said flatly. “And I’m doing you one now by telling you this. The fairy-tale dream doesn’t exist. Only when you give it up will you have any possibility of happiness.”

  Belle could understand why he might think that, after everything he’d gone through. And yet... She bit her lip. “You never tried to speak to your father again? Or your half brother?”

  “They had their chance.” His eyes were hard. “I might have Zoya blood, but they mean nothing to me now.”

  Santiago looked down at her. “So now do you understand? I never intended this to happen. I never meant to marry, or have a child. What do I know of being a husband, or a father?” His eyes narrowed. “But I will not allow my child to have the lonely existence I had. She will not be rejected, raised in poverty by a delusional mother and a succession of uncaring stepfathers. She will have my name.” He looked at her evenly. “You will marry me.”

  Belle licked her lips as she tried desperately, “But there are other ways besides marriage...”

  Reaching out, he cupped her cheek.

  “You will agree to marry me, Belle, or I will keep you here until the baby is born, and take the child from you. Do you understand?”

  His tone was so gentle, it took her a moment to understand the meaning. Then her eyes went wide as she drew away sharply.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “You are mistaken if you believe I am as soft-hearted as you. I am not.”

  She shivered, not doubting it. “So you’re threatening me?”

  “I am telling you how it will be. I won’t let you put your own foolish dreams above the needs of our baby. Either you leave here with this ring on your finger, or you don’t leave at all.”

  “You can’t want to be married... To be loyal and faithful to one woman for the rest of your life? You don’t even love me!”

  “I will keep my vows,” he said impatiently. “I expect you to keep them as well.”

  She blinked fast. “It’s easy for you to give up all dreams of love. You’ve never loved anyone.”

  Her harsh words echoed in the silent evening. He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenching. When he finally spoke, his voice held no expression.

  “So you agree?”

  “Fine,” she choked out.

  “You accept my proposal?”

  “You’ve left me no choice.”

  “As you’ve left me none.” He slid the enormous platinum-set diamond over her finger. “This ring symbolizes how we are bound. For life.”

  The precious metal felt cold and heavy, both on her hand and on her heart. “Now what, a shotgun wedding at the nearest justice of the peace?”

  He snorted, then sobered. “We will be married in New York.”

  Back to New York, the city that had chewed her up and spat her out, with a man who would never love her, and who for all his fine words, was practically blackmailing her into marriage? “This gets better and better.”

  “Our wedding will be a society event. As my wife, you will take your rightful place in New York society.”

  Belle looked at him incredulously. “Have you lost your mind? Me? A leader in New York society?”

  “You will be.”

  Belle lifted her chin. “I told you. You don’t own me.”

  Santiago looked down at her, his black eyes glittering. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. Taking her hand in his own, he looked down at the sharp shine of the ring in the moonlight. “From this moment on, I do.”

  She felt his hand enfolding hers, his palm rough and warm against her skin, and a skitter of electricity went up her spine. Her lips parted.

  He pulled her into his arms, cupping her face in his hands. Deliberately, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The smooth caress of his hot satin lips seared her, making her weak. Ruthlessly, he deepened the kiss, tilting back her head, tangling his hands in her hair. Need raced through her, quickening her heartbeat, making her lose her breath.

  Pressing her against the thick white column of the pergola, amid the bloom of pink flowers beneath the fairy lights, he slowly kissed down her throat. Her head fell back, her dark hair tumbling down, as her eyes closed against the sweet pleasure of sensation.

  He ran his hands down her arms, over the soft red knit fabric of her low-cut dress. She felt his touch like a whisper over her full breasts, over her belly, over her hips. He lowered his head to kiss her naked collarbone, then the bare cleavage between her breasts.

  “I want you,” he whispered. Leaning forward, he whispered against the sensitive flesh of her earlobe, making her shiver, “Come to my bed tonight.”

  Belle opened her eyes. Frosted by moonlight and the silvery lake behind him, Santiago’s face was in shadow as he towered over her like a dark angel. That had been the Spanish playboy’s nickname in New York, she remembered. Ángel. Now she understood why.

  And she could no longer resist. She could only surrender.

  Santiago looked at her, then scooped her wordlessly into his arms. He carried her into the sprawling ranch house, down the silent hallway, into the enormous master bedroom, dark with shadows except for the shaft of moonlight pooling through the large windows.

  He set her down almost reverently, and she stood in front of him, unsteady on her feet. Kneeling in front of her, he pulled off her shoes, one by one. Rising, he stood in front of her and kissed her again, deeply. When the kiss ended, as she tried to catch her breath, he circled her, his fingertips lingering against her body, and slowly unzipped her dress in the back. Gently, he drew the dress down her body, slipping it off her full breasts, down her arms. He tugged it slowly over her belly, to her hips, until the dress finally fell like a soft whisper to the floor.

  She stood nearly naked in front of him, wearing only a silk bra and panties. Still fully dressed in his tuxedo, Santiago looked down at her in the moonlight.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. His hand traced down to cup a full breast over the sensuous silk bra. She nearly gasped as she felt the warmth of his hand pressing the smooth fabric against her heavy breast and aching nipple, which hardened beneath his touch.

  He drew closer. His palms explored the full curve of her belly, down to her hips, stroking the naked skin along the edge of her silk panties. Reaching around her
, he put his hands over her backside, taking her firmly in his grasp, pulling her hard against his body.

  When he lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss was hungry, as he reached beneath the flimsy silk to cup her naked breasts. His thumb stroked her aching nipple. As she gasped with pleasure, he unclasped the sliver of silk and dropped it entirely to the floor.

  He cupped both her breasts with his hands, as if marveling at their weight, then lowered his mouth to gently suckle her.

  The sensation was so intense she jolted beneath his hot mouth, gripping his shoulders. Pleasure was rising so hard and fast inside her, she wondered if she could climax like this, with only his lips against her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple, sucking her deeply into his hot, wet mouth.

  She gasped, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. She realized with shock that he was still wearing his jacket. Reaching down, she undid his tuxedo tie, then roughly yanked his jacket down from his shoulders.

  Rising, he looked down at her intently. Gaze locked with hers, he undid the buttons of his shirt and trousers then dropped them to the floor, along with his silk boxers. He stood naked, his body hard and jutting toward her. She looked down at him in amazement. Reaching out, she took his hard shaft fully in her hands—it took both her hands—and relished the soft, velvety feel of him, so thick and hard as steel.

  Now he was the one to gasp.

  With a low growl, he pulled her toward the king-sized bed bathed in moonlight, and drew her on top of him. She was shy and uncertain at first, until he pulled her head down into a kiss. Her dark hair tumbled down like a veil, blocking the moonlight, leaving their faces in darkness.

  She felt his hands on her hips, moving her until her legs spread wide over his. She felt the hardness of him, insistent between her thighs, demanding entry. That single movement, feeling him pressing against the wet, aching center of her desire, was enough to make her hold her breath. Involuntarily, she swayed against him. With an intake of breath, he tightened his hands on her hips, lifting her off his body, positioning her. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lowered her again, filling her, inch by delicious inch.

  She gasped from the pleasure as he slid inside her. Just when she thought her body couldn’t take any more of him, he somehow went even deeper, all the way to the hilt, all the way to the heart.