8 Brand-New Romance Authors

‘Your plan worked,’ he said as he stood with his back to the doors and the lashing rain.

The dark clouds behind him only intensified the image of anger he projected.

‘My plan was for Emma to think we were lovers so she wouldn’t question our marriage.’ Her voice didn’t sound as firm as she wanted, and anxiety made her stomach flutter. She had to regain her composure.

‘And why was that so important, Georgina?’

The use of her full name hurt, somehow, and the light sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

‘You openly admit to marrying for financial security once already—why would she question our marriage?’

She watched his jaw tighten as he took in a deep breath, as if he was holding back what he really wanted to say. ‘She never knew I married Richard so that I could fund her education and give her a secure home. My first marriage isn’t part of this, Santos.’

Thunder cracked overhead, the villa seeming to shake with the force of it. Georgina glanced anxiously around the room, thankful that she was no longer out at sea.

‘It damn well is when your reputation precedes you.’ His voice was hard and echoed the aggression of the storm. The expression on his face was as dark and brooding as the sky.

‘My reputation?’ Lightning lit the room and her heart thudded almost as loudly as the thunder. ‘If by that you mean that I married Richard, an older and unwell man, because he offered me lifelong security in return for a few years of companionship, then, yes, my reputation does precede me.’

She glared at him, hardly able to believe they were discussing her first marriage when it was the marriage of his brother to her sister that should take precedence. That was the one that affected them both, whether they liked it or not.

She had to tell him, but anxiously kept the conversation on its current course. As the next crack of thunder threatened to shake the foundations of the villa she stood her ground, glaring at Santos.

‘A companionship so loving that you were dating other men just weeks after his funeral.’ He practically snarled the words at her, so intense was his anger.

‘It was what he wanted,’ she said, softly but firmly, remembering how insistent Richard had been that she should move on in life, find herself a man she could love.

She’d dated a few men just to do as Richard had wanted, to honour the memory of the man who’d given her a future. But she hadn’t enjoyed their company and very quickly gossip had started.

After the initial shock of being at the centre of everyone’s speculation she’d soon realised it provided a wall to hide behind.

‘I found out very quickly that seeing a man once or twice only was the best way.’ Let him think the worst of her. She had other worries right now. Besides, if he believed that of her it would keep him at arm’s length—something she had to do now no matter what. She couldn’t dwell on the closeness they’d shared.

Santos’s brow furrowed. ‘Best way for what?’ The words snapped from him.

‘For doing what you do,’ she flung at him as another rumble of thunder, just as intense, reverberated around the room. ‘For keeping the world at bay, keeping the gossips with something to get their teeth into, because ultimately it meant I could be on my own. I never wanted to be married the first time and I certainly don’t want to be married now.’

She flopped down onto the sofa, unable to fight any longer. Remaining indifferent to what was being said about her and the shock of what Emma had done was finally too much.

How could her sister have said nothing? How could she have sneaked away the moment she’d left for Spain? It was a complete and utter betrayal. Emma had as good as thrown everything she’d ever done for her back in her face.

Santos walked across the marble floor. A hint of softness entered his tone as he crouched before her, forcing her to look into his eyes. ‘Then why offer yourself to me?’

She swallowed down the urge to cry, to collapse into an emotional heap, and looked into his eyes. Their dark depths were almost unreadable. He was so close, and the spark of attraction passing between them was as strong as ever, but she mustn’t let that cloud her mind and muddle her judgement.

‘Why, Georgina?’ he prompted, his voice a little firmer, and she realised the anger she’d seen in him earlier was still simmering beneath the surface.

She took a breath to tell him what she’d just learnt, but couldn’t. The look in his glittering eyes halted those words

‘For Emma,’ she began, trying to put off the moment just a little longer. ‘She believes in the dream of love, the happy-ever-after, and it’s Carlo—your brother—who is that dream for her. When she told me about the will it seemed the most obvious deal to make. I’d married for convenience for Emma’s benefit once before. I could do it again.’

Georgina was emotionally wrung out, but she had to tell him. She didn’t want to—didn’t want to rouse his anger—but she knew she had to. She couldn’t keep it from him. He had a right to know.

‘They are already married.’

The words were out before he had a chance to say anything.

He studied her for a moment, crouching in front of her as if he was talking to a child, making her think he’d be good with children. An image of her holding a baby with Santos’s dark eyes and complexion rushed into her mind, not for the first time in recent days, but she pushed it harshly away. Marrying him was one thing, but she’d never have his child. She could never have a child, full-stop. She didn’t want to risk being as useless as her own mother.

‘When did you know?’ His words, although cajoling, still reverberated with anger.

She looked down at the phone she still clutched in her hand and sighed. ‘Minutes ago.’

Betrayal ripped through her again at the thought of what Emma and Carlo had done, but she knew Emma would never have done it alone—never.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, more to herself than Santos.

‘They married on Saturday.’

He stood up and looked down on her, his height making her feel small, his words like hailstones raining down on her. Another rumble of thunder followed, echoing his anger.

‘Saturday?’ She blinked back tears as she thought of Emma getting married whilst she’d been flying out to Spain. Then it hit her. ‘That means Carlo married first.’

He nodded, folding his arms across his chest once more.

‘So our marriage was for nothing. Carlo inherits the business and I miss the biggest day of my sister’s life.’ She wanted to jump up, to stand and face him, but her knees were too weak so she just buried her face in her hands.

What was she going to do now? Santos probably thought she’d conspired with them to outsmart him. There was only one thing she could do. Go home. Get far away from Santos.

‘I’ll go and pack,’ she said, finally finding the strength to stand as another rumble filled the room, this time sounding as if it was finally receding.

‘No.’

Santos grabbed her arm as she made to leave and she looked up into his face. A small part of her wanted to see the gentleness she’d seen on their wedding night. She wanted to feel as special as he’d made her feel that night. But instead his eyes were brittle with hardness.

‘You are my wife. You will stay here.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Santos, I can’t. Their marriage changes everything.’

‘Your scheming, meaning that Carlo married first, has changed nothing. We are still married.’

He held her arm tight, pulling her against his body. She could feel the heat of it and, despite the anger and tension in the air, her body responded traitorously to his.

‘It’s all about the business for you, isn’t it?’ Accusation rang in her voice as she lifted her chin, finding her defiant streak once more, denying the burning need that raged inside her. ‘You can’t bear it that you’ve lost it.’

He shook his head and his voice was hard. ‘I haven’t lost it. Not yet. And we will remain married.’

‘Why?’ Her breath was heaving in her chest.

His eyes darkened, the brittleness of earlier replaced with hot desire.

‘Because of this.’

Before she could question him further his mouth claimed hers in a hot, searing kiss. She gasped in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as his hand cupped her breast, making her arch against him, only being held upright by the firm grasp of his hand on her arm. She had no escape. Neither did she want an escape. She wanted his touch, his kiss. Damn it, she wanted him. She wanted him because she loved him—and that was exactly why she had to go.

She could hardly think straight, let alone put coherent words together, as he broke the kiss and looked down at her.

‘This undeniable attraction that exists between us. We can’t fight it for ever.’

‘No,’ she managed in a croaky voice. ‘But it can’t last for ever.’

He shrugged, relinquishing his grip on her arm to hold her hand instead. ‘True, but we can explore it while it lasts.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Indignation at his knowing glance leapt through her.

‘Because we are man and wife,’ he said in a smooth tone that rippled over her heightened senses like velvet. ‘Truly man and wife.’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, we aren’t. It was just a deal. Just a marriage of convenience.’

‘Was our wedding night on the yacht just part of the deal?’

His self-satisfied smile made her blush at the memory of just how abandoned she’d been. He kissed her—a brief but intense one.

‘I thought not.’

‘No, Santos.’ She pushed at his chest, needing space to think. ‘This isn’t what I wanted. Neither of us did. And now Emma and Carlo have married there is no need for us to be together.’

‘That’s where you are wrong, because Carlo hasn’t yet inherited the business.’

‘Of course he has. He’s married—before you.’ She almost froze with shock. Some of his earlier words were now making sense, like his accusation of her acting. He’d been playing with her.

‘Yes, they are married.’ The smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. ‘But, querida, that doesn’t change anything.’

‘What do you mean?’ Confused, she stopped pushing him away. She didn’t understand. Emma and Carlo had got married before she and Santos had even arrived in Spain, making Carlo the first son to marry. ‘Why doesn’t it change anything?’

* * *

Santos struggled with his conscience. Her act of being the wounded party was very convincing, just as her act of fear of the storm had been, but he didn’t believe she’d known nothing of their plans. Why else would she have asked so seductively to stay on the yacht longer, or even agreed to leave London with him, if not to make it as difficult as possible for him to contact the outside world? She’d practically thrown herself at him, used all that a woman could to snare his interest and keep him from going back to the villa. She’d made him want her, teased and dallied with his desire since that first kiss at the party, and there was only one reason as far as he was concerned.

She’d planned it all along.

True, she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. He’d have to be blind and stupid not to see how her body responded to his slightest touch. And each time he’d kissed her the attraction between them had intensified, until they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

She’d deceived him, duped him, like all females did, with her body. And just like his father he’d ignored everything to be with her, to make her his. He’d been like a man possessed, unable to think of anything else other than Georgina. Thoughts of her had been all-consuming. He enjoyed being with women, but never had he been so completely under a woman’s spell.

Even now, when her kisses tasted of deceit, he wanted her. Passion burned in her eyes as she stood and glared at him. How dared she look so wounded? There could only be one winner in this game of passion and deceit she’d started. And that would be him.

‘It isn’t the first son to marry who inherits.’ The words slipped out effortlessly. Finally he’d got her attention. ‘But the first married son to produce an heir.’

He watched as his words slowly filtered through, like water permeating through limestone, until finally the expression on her face told him she understood the full implications.

She shook her head, backing away from him as if he was evil itself, her beautiful face ashen white, her eyes wide with disbelief. Oh, but she was a good actress. He almost believed it. Almost.

CHAPTER TEN

THE FIRST MARRIED SON to produce an heir.

No, she screamed in her head, whilst outwardly the shutters came down, cocooning her behind a safe barrier.

‘How long have you known this?’ How could he stand there so calmly and tell her that? He might as well say her whole plan had been a waste of time. He’d lied all this time, but she couldn’t see a trace of remorse.

‘Long enough.’

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

‘So what were you hoping for? A honeymoon baby?’ She wanted to close her eyes against the pain of shattered dreams as they splintered around her. For just one night she’d thought she could sample that dream. She hadn’t expected her attraction for him to turn into something deeper. Now it was spoilt by his admissions. His deceit. ‘No wonder you were so—what was it?—unusually relaxed about contraception.’

‘That’s absurd.’

His eyes looked dark and hostile but she stood tall, remaining as defiant as she could manage.

A ray of sunlight speared the gloom and she glanced out at the clearing sky, glad that at least one storm was over.

‘Not absurd, Santos.’ She looked directly at him, something akin to anger and disappointment flitting through her. ‘Not when you consider the clause of the will and that you knew Carlo wanted to get married. He loves my sister. Just by marrying he was a threat to you—because not only would he be the first married son, but probably the first married son to have the required heir.’

It was like a puzzle, and finally she was putting it together. She still had a few pieces to find, but it was all beginning to make sense now.

‘Why are you so against Carlo?’ She felt frustrated by those missing pieces. ‘When you could have married any one of the women you’ve dated in the past and inherited everything you believe is yours.’

She watched as he paced the room—long, lean strides that drew her attention. As if needing escape, he opened the doors to the terrace and strode out. The fresh smell of dampness after the rain rushed into the room as he left. For a moment she stood and watched him, saw his pain, his frustration, with every move he made, and something deep inside her tugged at her emotions.

She knew that kind of pain, that kind of emptiness.

She walked to the door. Santos stood looking out to sea, his broad shoulders tense and the muscles in his arms taut as he leant on the balustrade. She longed to go to him, to touch him and soothe his pain. But sense prevailed. This was all of his making. She couldn’t let him know how she felt—not when he’d used everyone as pawns in his power game.

It rushed at her so hard she almost stumbled. All her breath momentarily left her body and her heart raced like a wild horse fleeing captivity.

It couldn’t be true—it just couldn’t.

She loved him. Completely and utterly.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle a cry of distress. She didn’t want to love anyone. She couldn’t love anyone. And certainly not Santos Ramirez. Since the day her father had turned his back on them she’d watched her mother take a path of self-destruction. Her parents’ actions proved beyond doubt that love was all-consuming, but also that it hurt, left you alone and killed all joy in life when it went wrong. It was a gamble she’d never wanted to take, so how had it happened? How had she fallen in love with Santos?

‘I’m not against Carlo.’

His harsh words dragged her mind back from the pain of her past.

‘Just the marriage.’

She sensed his vulnerability as he remained with his back to her, looking out to sea, at the sky clearing and brightening after the storm. Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself, she crossed the terrace and stood by him, her shoulder almost touching his arm as she stood surveying the view.

‘Why did your father put such a clause in his will, forcing you to marry?’ This was something that had niggled at her since Emma had first mentioned it. She’d imagined two young boys vying for their father’s attention. A man who didn’t deserve any from either of them as far as she was concerned.

‘It’s a family business, started by my grandfather—my mother’s father. I suppose he assumed that as I was older by nine years I’d marry and have a family a long time before Carlo did.’

He sounded resigned and it tugged at her heart to hear him, almost as if he was admitting defeat.

‘He must have thought he was being fair to us both, putting that clause in his will.’

‘So why didn’t you marry?’ The question just had to be asked. He’d never been short of female company. She’d very quickly learnt that.

He turned to face her and she held her breath as he looked down at her. His eyes searched her face as if looking for answers to questions he didn’t even know. She watched as his face set into hard lines, shutting her out.

‘To avoid the mess we are in now.’ The angry words all but barked out at her.

She shivered despite the sun. ‘It’s easy to sort out.’ Her words were curt as she lifted her chin in defiance and challenge, the softer emotions quashed by his frozen expression. ‘I leave and you file for divorce.’

In one swift stride he came towards her, his hand holding her arm firmly. ‘You are not going anywhere unless I do—and as for a divorce...’

He spoke with a voice so stern and disapproving she blinked in shock.

‘There will not be a divorce. Your meddling has made sure of that.’

‘But—’ she began, wondering what she wanted to try and tell him, even what she didn’t. ‘There isn’t any reason to remain married—not now.’

‘You are forgetting, mi esposa, that an heir may yet still be needed.’ He let go of her, keeping her where she stood with just the fixed glare of his dark eyes.

‘No,’ she snapped, and backed away from him, bumping against the chair she’d sat in to call her sister earlier. ‘Even you’re not so cold and callous that you’d bring a child into the world just to inherit a business.’

‘I had hoped not even to marry to inherit. When you so kindly offered yourself I believed it would be enough, that I could find a way out of the clause long before Carlo married. But your meddling has changed everything.’

His eyes glittered furiously at her but she held her ground, squared her shoulders and met his accusation head on.

Her meddling? ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me.’

His eyes glittered dangerously but she refused to be intimidated, refused to back down.

‘Not when you’ve led me on, driven me wild with need for you since the night of the party.’

‘I did not lead you on.’ Indignation flared to life in her and she almost stamped her foot in frustration.

* * *

Santos knew he was losing his patience, reaching the boiling point that very few people managed to push him to. All he wanted was to prevent her from leaving. He needed her, yes, but he wanted her more.

‘So what was our wedding night if not to divert my attention and keep me out of the way?’

She gasped at him, a blush creeping over her cheeks, and she looked as if she was struggling for words.

‘You must have been delighted when I took you to the yacht. What better place to keep me out of the way?’ Humiliation burned through him like a forest fire. He’d been used, played for a fool, and it wounded him even more to think that he’d relaxed. He’d wanted to open up to her, wanted to be who he really was, when all along she’d been as fake as snow in the desert. ‘You flirted yourself at me in an attempt to stay longer on the yacht.’

Her brow furrowed and pain and confusion swirled in her eyes. For a moment he wanted to reach for her, wanted to kiss it all away. But kissing had got him into this mess. Kissing and much more had left him emotionally exposed and vulnerable.

‘If that’s what you think, Santos, it would be much better if you just let me go home. Alone.’ Her words were firm and devoid of any emotion.

‘That,’ he snapped, instantly reining himself back, ‘is not negotiable. You will stay here with me now I know where Carlo and Emma are.’

‘Where they are?’ She spoke rapidly, shock sounding in her tone. ‘You mean they’re not in London?’

Was it possible he’d got it all wrong? That she’d known nothing of their marriage plans?

He moved away from her—away from the intensity of her eyes and the questions deep within them. Maybe sending her back to London alone would be for the best, enable him to think clearly. Because his need for her had increased since they’d spent the night together and each time she came close his body remembered, even if his mind refused to acknowledge what he was beginning to feel for her.

‘Perhaps you can tell me.’ He tossed the words across the terrace as he made his way back inside the villa. ‘You can explain everything to me on our way out this evening.’

‘There’s only one place I’m going this evening and that’s the airport—with or without your help.’ He knew she had followed him inside. He could feel her, sense her.

He sat down on the sofa, stretching his arm along the back of the black leather, and watched as she stood, fury blazing from her, in the centre of the room. A smile twitched the corners of his lips despite the bitter taste of humiliation. She looked stunningly sexy, a little fireball of passion.

‘Tonight we are expected at a party my cousin has arranged for us and I have no intention of arriving without my bride.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Santos, but your bride is leaving. Right now.’

He clenched his jaw as his mind raced. ‘You can’t. You signed the agreement. You have legally agreed to live as my wife for twelve months.’

Her eyes widened in shock. ‘I don’t believe you actually put that in. You’re barbaric.’

‘I need an heir, Georgina.’

Right there in front of him she seemed to deflate. All the fire and fury drained from her and he sat forward, his elbows on his knees. Was she actually going to faint?

‘I can’t give you what you want.’

The anguish in her voice alarmed him and he leapt up and stood before her.

‘I can’t have a baby—I can’t.’

Can’t have a baby.

He hadn’t considered this. He’d assumed that, like almost every woman, she’d want to become a mother.

‘Why not?’

This threw everything into turmoil. If Carlo and Emma returned from Vegas as parents-to-be he would have lost everything—exactly what he’d promised his mother he’d never do the last time he saw her. Although he still didn’t know what kind of misguided loyalty made him want to keep that promise.

Large tears welled up in Georgina’s eyes. One broke free and ran down her cheek. Santos didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t considered the possibility that she couldn’t have children. She’d been so adamant that she’d do anything to enable her sister to marry. He’d seen her as a viable back-up plan—a marriage of convenience to a woman who would be the mother of his child, should that drastic step be needed.

‘I can’t...I just can’t,’ she croaked in a whisper, tugging at something deep inside him so much that he wanted to hold her close, to soothe her.

Instead he clenched his hands into fists and marched away from her. ‘This changes nothing. You are my wife. You agreed to it for one year and I’m not going to allow you to publicly humiliate me any further. I don’t need my wife deserting me within days of our supposed whirlwind romance. It’s bad enough that Carlo and Emma have run off to Vegas...’