The Forgotten Gallo Bride

“Do I know you?”

Zara Falconer’s convenient wedding to tycoon Tomas Gallo freed her from her mercenary uncle. She believes their vows were swiftly annulled but, unbeknownst to Zara, a car crash wiped Tomas’s memory before he could release her from their agreement.

Grateful to her rescuer, Zara agrees to be housekeeper at Tomas’s English mansion while he recovers. Prowling the corridors is the tortured shadow of a commanding man—who she’s shocked to discover is still her husband!

Being in close proximity to Tomas again awakens a powerful longing between them. Will this intense hunger remind him of the ties that bind them?

‘Get in the bath or I’ll put you in it myself,’ Tomas said softly.

That order melted the last frozen part within Zara.

‘Really?’ She couldn’t help smiling at him. ‘How d’you think you’re going to do that?’

He looked up at her for just a moment longer, his focus dipping to her mouth. Then suddenly in one smooth movement, he caught both her wrists in one of his hands and to her astonishment swiftly lifted his jumper and pressed her cold, cold fingers to his bare skin.

She gasped at the shock—and the sensation. She looked up into his face and saw how intently he was gazing at her.

‘Tomas...’ she whispered. Pleading. She couldn’t help it.

He didn’t reply. He just stepped that last inch closer and kissed her.

She moaned in instant delight, despite the fact his kiss was furious. He subjected her to the full force of his anger—and his passion—and both only brought forth the desire she’d tried to hold within herself for so long.

She moaned again, her legs weakening, but he abruptly broke the kiss.

Never had a man made her feel like this. Made her want like this.

He stared down at her silently, his breathing quick, his expression burning. But he didn’t smile back at her.

‘Go and get into the bath,’ he breathed, releasing her completely. ‘Go. Now.’

‘Y-yes,’ she stammered. Then turned and fled.

NATALIE ANDERSON adores a happy ending. So you can be sure you’ve got a happy ending in your hands right now—because she promises nothing less. Along with happy endings she loves peppermint-filled dark chocolate, pineapple juice and extremely long showers. Not to mention spending hours teasing her imaginary friends with dating dilemmas. She tends to torment them before eventually relenting and offering—you guessed it—a happy ending. She lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, with her gorgeous husband and four fabulous children. If, like her, you love a happy ending, be sure to come and say hi on Facebook—facebook.com/authornataliea—follow @authornataliea on Twitter, or visit her website/blog: natalie-anderson.com.

Books by Natalie Anderson

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Tycoon’s Terms of Engagement

Blame It on the Bikini

The Throne of San Felipe

The Mistress that Tamed De Santis

The Secret That Shocked De Santis

Mills & Boon Modern Tempted

Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

The Right Mr. Wrong

Waking Up in the Wrong Bed

First Time Lucky?

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

The Forgotten Gallo Bride

Natalie Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘Type the security code quickly and get through the gates before he sees you, or he’ll override the system and won’t let you in. Don’t get there after dark or you haven’t a hope...’

ZARA FALCONER SQUINTED through the relentless rain, mentally reciting the long code while struggling to hold her freezing fingers steady enough to tap it into the keypad. Because of the storm clouds the sky had darkened early and Jasper’s warning rang loudly in her ears.

Nervously she entered the last number he’d given her and held her breath, but the heavy wrought-iron gates remained as tight-locked as ever. She glanced back at the keypad, wondering if she should try again. A sudden loud clang told her she didn’t need to.

The gates creaked more as they slowly opened, complaining they were unused to the movement. Zara didn’t trust them to remain open for long. The DO NOT ENTER and TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED signs pretty much gave it away. She hurried back to her car, slithering on the wet path in her haste. She inhaled deeply and tried to move more calmly. She’d only just driven through the gap when the iron gates began to close again behind her, groaning as they locked back into their defensive position.

She switched her windscreen wipers onto a faster setting and put her headlights on full to try to see more clearly where she was going. Her breathing quickened as the wet gravel crunched beneath her tyres. Big, barren branches from the large trees overhead obscured the bruised, weeping sky. She inched her battered old car down the long driveway, taking the corner at the end. That was when she had her first glimpse of the large Georgian manor that was his home. With its two stories of imposing bricks and empty windows, it was a vast, gloomy obstruction at the end of the drive. The whole building was in darkness save a feeble light gleaming in only one low window.

Her heart pounded as she pulled up right in front of the mammoth front door. She’d been driving all day and couldn’t quite believe she was finally here. She’d tried to imagine this moment every day for the past year, envisaging all kinds of possible scenarios—maybe she’d bump into him on the street, or maybe they’d be at an event together and see each other across a room, or maybe he’d come to find her...

She’d really had no idea how it was going to happen or indeed if it ever actually would. But then Jasper had found her and basically got on his knees and begged her to visit the man to whom they both owed so much. Jasper’s tired appearance and desperation had surprised her. He didn’t know she needed no real encouragement to see the man who’d changed her life so drastically. She wanted to. Secretly she’d been aching to for months.

So now here she was with her shoes and jeans wet, her hair a straggly mess, and she was late...but she was here.

She grabbed her bag and got out of the car but, despite running to the door, only got more drenched. She no longer cared. She was too busy wondering how he’d react to seeing her again. Would he smile and laugh? Would he look concerned and caring? What would he say?

Unable to suppress the scared-but-excited shivers running up and down her spine, Zara rang the doorbell. She bit her lower lip but she couldn’t stop the shy smile from slipping across her face. They’d had such a short encounter, but it had changed everything in her life. She’d relived those precious moments every day since. And every day she’d longed for just a few more.

She didn’t hear any footsteps over the thumping of her own pulse. It seemed that the door just silently swung open without any warning. And then he was standing in the doorway frowning down at her.

Tomas Gallo.

All she could do was stare.

He was taller than she remembered, and leaner-looking in his faded black jeans and thin black sweater. His hair wasn’t now cut in that perfect, almost preppy, businessman’s style, instead it was longer, a jet-black unruly mess with a hint of curl that ended just above his collar. Despite his olive skin, he was pale. There was no Caribbean holiday tan on him now. Not that devilish smile either. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the stubble emphasised the sharp edges and planes of his jaw. He looked harder, unhappier. But his eyes were the same—still that beautiful dark brown. The soulful kind of eyes that you could look into for ever, but still never understand the secrets they held. And there were definitely secrets. Even more of them.

He was so striking and so unforgettable. In that one second he stole her breath—and her heart—all over again.

‘What?’ he snapped as she stood there speechlessly staring at him.

Her shy offer of a smile froze.

‘How did you get in here?’ He glared down at her, clearly expecting an immediate answer.

She wasn’t able to give him one. She wasn’t able to speak at all. She watched him closely for a hint of recognition in his eyes, but there was only mistrust—and building anger.

‘I don’t know how you got inside the gates,’ he added roughly, ‘but the gardens haven’t been open to the public in almost a year.’

‘I’m not here to see the gardens,’ she finally managed to answer.

‘Then what are you doing here?’ He continued to glare at her. There was no recognition, no softness, no humanity.

The smile faded from her lips altogether. Awkwardly she stared back up at him. Jasper had said it was better to arrive unannounced. That he wouldn’t tell Tomas she was coming. But did he really not remember her?

She knew she’d changed, but it was only clothes, a new hairstyle...she didn’t think such superficial things would have made that much difference.

‘I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.’ He began to shut the door.

That galvanised her into action. She’d not driven all day in such horrendous conditions to be given the brush-off in the first two seconds. In that way, she had changed.

‘I’m not here to sell you anything,’ she said, boldly stepping forward and blocking the doorway. ‘I’m here to help you.’

For a beat he looked stunned before snapping back, ‘I don’t need help.’

Defiantly she stood exactly where she was, uncaring that she was getting wet; she was not walking away from this just yet.

‘Yes, you do,’ she argued, taking another step forward right into the doorway. ‘Jasper sent me to you.’

Jasper had told her Tomas was still recovering from the accident. That he needed more help than he liked to admit. And while Tomas might not want her assistance, she owed him for more than he’d ever know and she wanted to pay him back for that.

He looked her over again, more slowly that time. There was still not the recognition in his expression that she’d expected, but as she watched something else emerged—something raw.

‘I don’t need or want your help,’ he said slowly, cynicism harsh in his eyes.

She tried not to be insulted, but she failed. ‘You don’t even know what I can do for you.’

‘I’m not interested in anything that you think you can do for me, sweetheart.’ A bitter smile curved his lips as he glanced over her again. He looked so thoroughly and slowly it was as if the rains had stripped her naked and he could see every tiny intimate detail of her body.

Embarrassed heat stormed through her as his gaze lingered on her breasts. She fought hard to control her reaction to his perusal but sensual awareness circled around her, fogging everything.

‘Excuse me?’ she choked, stunned at her own horrendous reaction.

‘What is it you’re offering?’ he asked. ‘A massage?’

‘You think I’m here to give you a massage?’ she asked, utterly astonished.

‘And other...services as required.’ Now he was looking at her mouth with a dark gleam in his eye.

She could feel herself blushing, she could almost see into his mind and knew exactly where he thought she might use her mouth on him...and the dreadful thing was, the truly dreadful thing was, she’d once dreamt about that. But she’d rather die before she admitted that—even to herself.

‘Does Jasper usually send women to provide these “services” for you?’ she asked huskily.

‘No.’ He frowned suddenly, that gleam vanishing, as if he too rejected the idea outright. ‘This is...unexpected, even for him.’

She drew herself up, gaining less than an inch in height and she was still far from being able to look him straight in the eye, but it was better than shrinking in front of him. She wasn’t that naive girl any more. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself now. She wasn’t going to run away and hide. ‘I’m not here to provide you with intimate entertainment.’

His gaze clashed with her own fierce one. Something changed within his expression. Then he too straightened.

‘What did Jasper say to you?’ he asked harshly, even angrier now.

‘That you were going to be alone this weekend.’

‘And he thinks that’s a problem?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Does he think I can’t handle being alone?’

‘You’d have to ask him that,’ she answered crossly. ‘I’m just doing what he asked me to.’

‘Well, Jasper was mistaken in asking you to do anything for me. I apologise for my crass assumption. You may leave.’

It couldn’t have sounded less like an apology. The sky was darkening more and she could see less of his face but she could sense his anger and his resistance to her presence. Her own anger bubbled. That he could be so rude? Had he truly forgotten her? She didn’t care if he couldn’t cope on his own or not, he didn’t look remotely incapacitated to her. As far as she was concerned, Jasper was worrying about nothing and she couldn’t wait to get out of the place. But she couldn’t get past him not recognising her. ‘Don’t you know who—?’

But it was then that the heavens truly opened, turning from torrential rain to ice. Marble-sized hailstones pelted down, bouncing on the gravel and her car and creating such a din she could no longer hear herself think let alone catch a word of what he was now saying. She saw him mutter something else—most likely impolite—then he stepped back and held his arm out towards her.

Was he inviting her in now?

Furious, she didn’t move. He sent her such a speaking look and then reached for her. His grip on her upper arm was hard and her feet were moving before she’d thought better of it. The door slammed behind her, shutting out the worst of the icy racket. But it was colder indoors than it had been out there. Her heart pounded. He’d stepped back only enough to drag her inside and suddenly they were face to face and only a couple of inches apart, his grip on her wasn’t any less ferocious and she could feel his breath on her frozen face.

Her gaze clashed with his. In the dim light she could see little of his expression, only that it was harsh. Her breathing—and her pulse—quickened at his nearness. Her body remembered his touch and she shivered.

Abruptly he released her. As he turned away his hand brushed hers and she quivered again as that electricity arced into her.

Yes. For her, he’d always packed a punch.

‘You may wait in here, until the hail has stopped,’ he said stiffly, taking another step back from her, frowning down at his hand before turning to switch on the light.

She blinked as the sudden brightness hurt her eyes—as did his silence. Shaken by her intense reaction to his proximity, she decided it was better to stay silent herself.

He didn’t invite her into a warm room and offer her a seat or a drink or anything more comfortable, only shelter from the storm that should hopefully pass quickly overhead.

It was clear he didn’t want to wait with her, yet he didn’t want to leave her alone in his large, inhospitable house either. She suppressed a vicious smile at his quandary, still smarting from his lack of recognition of her.

A year ago she’d seen him smile and heard him laugh as he’d joked with Jasper. From her hidden corner she’d been so drawn to him. He’d been arrogant then too, confident and assured, but it was different now—cold disapproval radiated from every inch of his body. He didn’t want the intrusion. He didn’t want her.

Well, he’d never wanted her. And that was just fine, wasn’t it?

Except there’d been one moment all those months ago. One moment when he’d teased her, smiled at her, reassured her. And then come close to her. Her cheeks burned at the memory of just how close he’d gotten to her then. He’d taken her by surprise—and her own reaction?

‘Miss—?’

He interrupted her thoughts, dragging her back to the cold, miserable presence.

He was staring, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he was wondering what she was thinking. Embarrassed, she glanced around the vast interior. It was freezing and so unwelcoming.

‘Falconer.’ She told him her new name. ‘Zara Falconer.’

She looked back at him as she spoke but there was no reaction at all in his expression.

And there was no outward sign of injury either. He seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Yet Jasper had been adamant that Tomas needed her. He’d been agitated about it. And curiosity had been too much for her.

Tomas was undeniably the same lethally attractive man, but the shadows in his face were deeper and darker. He didn’t look like the carefree, rapier-sharp devil she’d met that day.

‘Jasper asked me to housekeep for you for a few days,’ she finally, formally explained her mission.

‘You’re too young.’ He dismissed the idea in an instant.

She bristled, a bitter smile twisting her lips. How many times had she heard that in her life? Yes, she did look younger than she was, but she wasn’t stupid and she could work as hard as anyone. In fact, she could work harder. She had for years. ‘I’m not as young as I look.’

* * *

Tomas stared down at the bedraggled woman standing in front of him. She might think otherwise but he knew what Jasper’s intentions had been in sending her to him. The old schemer had been insisting for months that what Tomas really needed was some fun times with a beautiful woman. That if he relaxed, it would all come right, but his old friend was completely wrong. And the minute he got rid of her, he’d be phoning Jasper to tell him so. Again.

But it surprised him that Jasper had sent someone so unlike the usual high-maintenance-model bombshell that the old man himself preferred. This girl was too sweet. She looked so damned young in those thin sneakers, wet jeans and the light jacket that didn’t offer sufficient protection from the rain and annoyed the hell out of him. But as he looked closer he saw she was right. She wasn’t quite as young as her appearance first suggested.

When Tomas had opened that door she’d had a shy smile on her glowing face. The rain had been like dew on her radiant skin. Her loosely tied back rich brown hair had been starting to tumble, so wet tendrils curled softly at her temples. Her sweetheart-shaped face was dominated by those large sea-green shining eyes and full rosebud lips. Hell, she’d even had a dimple when she smiled. She’d looked the very picture of innocence and joie de vivre.

Everything he wasn’t. Everything he’d never had.

Right now she looked the picture of indignation. It was no less attractive and he was finding it very hard to wrench his eyes off her.

His thoughts were appallingly sexual in nature. He’d taken one look at her and been hit by the almost irresistible urge to draw her close and kiss her—and made a fool of himself in thinking that was why she’d come here. But her mouth looked full and soft and perfect for kissing and she was just the right size to fit in his arms and press against his hard body. He ached for that even now.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last kissed a woman. Or last wanted to. But then, he couldn’t remember anything.

Angered, he stepped towards her, not stopping even as her eyes widened in wary surprise. He didn’t want to know why she was here making a small puddle on the hall floor as the water streamed from her stupidly light jacket. He didn’t want to be bothered by how frozen her fingers had felt when the back of his hand had brushed against them. He didn’t want to see those still-shining eyes casting their innocent, cautious appeal at him.

He didn’t want to want her.

What he wanted was for her to be gone.

‘How do you know Jasper?’ His voice still sounded rusty. No real surprise given he hadn’t spoken to anyone in two days, not even a quick phone call.

She looked uncomfortable and didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. What didn’t she want to tell him? Was she Jasper’s latest little affair? His anger flared irrationally. He forced himself to breathe evenly and assess the facts. She wasn’t Jasper’s type. And given the way she’d blushed before at his out of order assumption, she wasn’t the type at all.

‘He helped me out with something a while back,’ she eventually answered evasively. ‘Have you eaten dinner?’

‘That’s not your concern.’ But even as he answered his stomach growled. He wondered if she’d eaten. She looked as if she could do with something hot and filling. Where the hell had she driven from anyway? And why? And he did not want to be wondering about her like this.

She walked the length of the hall, not bothering to hide her curiosity behind a veil of politeness. ‘The house is dark and cold.’

Her tone wasn’t judgmental but he felt argumentative. ‘Maybe I like it that way.’

‘You like to make it as unwelcoming as possible?’ She flashed that impish smile as she turned back to face him. ‘Are you that afraid of people?’

The edgy question was softened not so much by that smile as the shining candour in her eyes but it didn’t defuse his simmering anger.

‘I work hard and I don’t like interruptions,’ he corrected, refusing to be melted by her radiance, refusing to be drawn nearer to her. But the pull was powerful. He glared, infuriated by his primary, base response to her. ‘And I don’t need a baby-faced babysitter. It really is time for you to leave.’

Except he couldn’t help wondering where she would go.

Her smile faded and a confused look entered her eyes, dulling the sea-green brilliance. Stupidly he felt he’d disappointed her in some way. He didn’t like it.

‘I’m not as young as you seem to think,’ she suddenly declared with a lift to her chin, as if she’d made up her mind about something and was determined to see it through. ‘I was married once.’

He huffed out a breath, stunned that her words wounded him in a niggling way. ‘But you’re not now?’ he replied softly. The silence hung with significance.

Her eyelids dropped and she looked down, as if it hurt to hold his gaze. ‘I guess it wasn’t meant to be.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Tomas said stiffly. Not so innocent then; she’d been bruised. The thought of her being hurt grated on his already strained nerves.