Latin Lovers: Passionate Spaniards: The Spaniard's Marriage Demand / Kept by the Spanish Billionaire / The Spanish Doctor's Convenient Bride

Her eyes drifted closed as the growing sensual tension inside her inexorably built with each demanding thrust into her body. They swiftly opened again in shock as Leandro said fiercely, ‘Look at me, Isabella! Do not hide your pleasure from me! I want to witness everything!’ As the tension reached an exquisite plateau and sensual waves ebbed through her with force Isabella’s heartbeat went wild. In those highly charged moments, she knew a deepening sense of destiny. For whatever reason fate decreed …she had been meant to meet Leandro Reyes …even if it was just for this one night. A harsh, soul-deep cry left his lips just then and punctured the sultry air—the surprising sound resonating with force in the room and momentarily silencing the sound of the rain as his body quivered hard with release. Isabella was enthralled by that uninhibited shout of pleasure and for long moments she just allowed herself to simply bask in her woman’s power. The idea was a new and exciting revelation to add to her already growing store of new discoveries.

Curling her hands round Leandro’s sleek, hard biceps, she felt her heart hammer inside her chest almost as heavily and as fast as the relentless rain that pummelled the window-panes. Then she moved her fingers through his mane of thick dark hair, secretly loving the sensation of his muscular body covering hers, pressing her down deep into the mattress—the erotic sheen of his sweat glazing her skin and her senses filled with the scent of their lovemaking.

‘You have confirmed my suspicions quite emphatically, Isabella. Rest will be the furthest thing from my mind now that my body has known the deep, deep pleasure of joining with yours.’

Along with this wry, hungry observation, Leandro accorded Isabella with the most dangerously challenging smile she’d ever received. If that seriously fever-inducing gesture wasn’t enough, the look in his clear grey eyes literally made her heart leap. ‘Instead we will make love and listen to the rain and make love again until we are close to exhaustion, my sweet Isabella,’ he asserted.

His deliberately possessive ‘my’ resonating with undeniable delight throughout her entire being, Isabella sensed renewed desire swiftly build inside her even as Leandro bent his head and his lips hungrily claimed a breast. She slowly released a softly ragged breath, the ache between her legs almost painful. ‘I want that too,’ she whispered, without any trace of doubt or inhibition …

The arrival of the morning sneaked into her consciousness far too soon. Awake as soon the sky started to lighten in the east, spreading the pink tinge of dawn across the previously black canvas of the night, Isabella breathed out softly as she studied the arresting sleeping features of Leandro beside her. Although clearly surrendering to fatigue now, they’d paid scant attention to sleep during the past few hours. As she felt her face suffuse with warmth as she recalled how emphatically she and her Spanish lover had whiled those precious night-time hours away the corners of Isabella’s lush mouth couldn’t help but edge upwards into a smile. This morning she was a different woman again from the one that had been slowly emerging during the pilgrimage. She’d already been feeling braver and stronger but now after last night …she felt daring too. And her body brimmed with a new vitality even though she ached in every muscle …her tender spots arising because of the amazing man lying beside her.

Isabella might well smile. Just then Leandro stirred, rubbed a hand round his beard-roughened chiselled jaw and opened his eyes. It was like staring right into a pool of silvery starlight …Isabella’s stomach dived straight to her feet in stunning awareness of the shock of that direct arresting gaze.

‘Buenos días.’

Before she could even reply, Leandro slid his fingers beneath her chin and claimed her mouth in a deeply satisfying—and bordering on ravenous—kiss.

‘Good morning,’ she croaked, her black-coffee eyes wide with surprise and pleasure.

As Leandro lazily surveyed Isabella’s early-morning face, her bewitching beauty undimmed by lack of rest, her long dark hair spilling over her smooth bare shoulders and her tentative smile intriguingly self-conscious, his stomach clutched with surprising regret at the thought of having to say goodbye to her today. This woman had given him such stunning and unforgettable pleasure—both with her body and her company and he was not quite ready to relinquish either. Leandro found himself wishing that they could spend the rest of the day in bed and let the world carry on without them. But inevitably they must part—he to return to his house to catch up with some urgent reading of new manuscripts and work proposals before returning to Madrid to embark upon his latest cinematic project—and she to continue this most ancient of pilgrimages, presumably followed by her own return to her homeland …

‘I could wish to be woken in such a satisfying way every morning, my fair Isabella.’ There it was again …that very appealing and possessive ‘my’. Used in such a seductive way, the huskily voiced note of ownership could not possibly offend her …quite the opposite. Allowing him to pull her against his chest and smooth back her tousled dark fringe from her face, Isabella breathed in Leandro’s addictive soft musk scent as he grinned at her suggestively.

She had to attempt at least twenty miles today through varying and challenging terrain if she was to catch up with some walking companions as arranged and the memory of that wicked and gorgeous smile of his was surely going to sustain her until she reached the monastery where she had planned to stay tonight …But at the thought of parting from Leandro, Isabella felt a hollow little flutter inside her chest and then the same again—only stronger—in the pit of her stomach. ‘You’ve hardly had any sleep at all and now I’ve woken you,’ she said apologetically.

‘And I was the very inconsiderate man who kept you awake most of the night because I could not keep my hands off of you! You should not be endowed with so many beguiling qualities to tempt me so much!’ He laughed huskily. Isabella wanted to say, I’ll miss you, but then she remembered that Leandro Reyes was a very well known and respected film director and once he had returned to his busy and demanding life her memory would be relegated very firmly to his past. She knew she wasn’t special. Working in the film industry as he did, he would have every opportunity to bed the most alluring women and probably did. She would be just one of many. Her stomach protested with a sickening twist at the thought …

‘I should get up and get dressed,’ she murmured, deliberately averting her gaze away from the cynosure of his piercing silvery eyes …the eyes that seemed to see into her soul. She’d best just start to forget him right now if that were possible and focus on the pilgrimage instead. ‘I’ve got to get back to my hotel and get some breakfast and fill my water bottle before I get going again.’

‘Benito’s driver will drop us both back when we are ready,’ Leandro responded immediately, ‘but we can breakfast here first.’

‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind? I have to make up quite a bit of time today.’ Moving away from him, she sat up, using some of the sheet to hide her nakedness. For some reason, a strong wave of protectiveness for the vulnerability the gesture exposed washed over Leandro. Once again he had cause to admonish himself for his uncharacteristic reaction. Isabella and he had had a good time in bed …an unbelievable time, in fact …but at the end of the day she was just another beautiful girl passing through and in a few days’ time, when she had completed the pilgrimage, she would be going home again to England. End of story …So long as she did not relate any of what had occurred between them to her sister or anyone else associated with the media, Leandro would relegate their time together to a very pleasurable and warm memory.

‘So?’ He sat up too, the warm skin on his thigh brushing up against hers. He sensed her answering shiver and felt a strong leap of desire. He quelled it. ‘When you go back to England …where is home?’ he asked casually.

A quizzical little crease appeared between Isabella’s fine dark brows, as though she was surprised he should ask such a question.

‘I live in Islington in London …the least posh part. Do you know it?’

‘I have heard of it.’ Leandro smiled. ‘And you work nearby?’

‘In Highgate. It’s not far away.’

‘And you will be busy working on your book when you return, sí?’

Isabella shrugged self-consciously, the movement dislodging the sheet and suddenly exposing her bare breasts. She quickly grabbed it back again and covered herself. ‘That’s the plan. And you …you’ll be working on a film I guess?’

Immediately the shutters came down over Leandro’s eyes and Isabella could have kicked herself. She’d hate to think that he might believe she would tell anybody anything that he’d told her …especially about his work or his private life. Considering that both were topics he’d deliberately avoided discussing during their time together, he must know he had nothing to fear?

‘I will be getting back to work, sí. Isabella?’

‘Yes?’ Her dark eyes widened as she watched his hand scrape through his tousled hair.

‘I would give you my phone number but it is not something that I do readily or easily. In my position, I have to be careful …you understand?’ His words confirmed she was not important to him in any way as well as reiterating his intense need to guard his privacy. Fielding the immense wave of hurt and disappointment that washed over her, Isabella briefly inclined her head. ‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Why don’t you use the shower first?’ he suggested smoothly and she could easily sense his withdrawal from her. ‘I have a couple of phone calls to make before we leave.’

‘Okay.’ She felt as if she’d been somehow dismissed from his life as though she were nothing but an afterthought, and Isabella’s heart was sickeningly heavy as she turned her back to get out of bed …

CHAPTER FOUR

Eighteen Months Later …London, England.

‘I’M SORRY I’m back a little late, Natasha, but Chris and I went for coffee after the film. Is Raphael asleep?’

‘He’s sound as anything. I don’t even think an earthquake would wake him! And you’re not late at all …I told you not to rush. You could have gone for a meal or something instead of just a coffee. How was it?’

The petite blonde stood back from the door to allow Isabella entry, watching her friend unbutton her long black coat, then unwind her cerise knitted scarf and hang them both on the pine-wood coat-stand inside the hall.

‘How was what?’ she asked distractedly, blowing briefly down onto her chilled hands. The November weather was icy tonight, with the wind as lethal as a sharpened razor. The past few winters had been almost strangely mild but this one was kicking in with a vengeance, it seemed. Northern Spain and those sun-drenched mesas seemed a million miles away.

Mockingly lifting her pale, perfectly shaped brows, Natasha put her hands on her almost stick-thin hips. ‘The film, of course! What did you think I meant?’

Isabella almost didn’t want to discuss the film. Instead she wanted to stow the memory of it away and savour the details later when she was alone—like a treat she wanted to keep for herself and didn’t want to share. The story had touched her deeply. It had been about a mother’s relationship with her son …a son who, when he was grown, had rejected his simple country background in every sense because he had been so thoroughly seduced by the apparent ‘glamour’ of western culture. So seduced that he’d turned his back even on the woman who’d raised him. The director had been one Leandro Reyes. Even if Isabella had never had the good fortune to meet the man, she would have instantly been a fan after seeing this movie. It had been done exquisitely sensitively and, although emotions had unquestioningly been stirred, never at any time had Leandro’s sublime direction allowed the audience to be manipulated by them. He’d simply let the story and the consummate skill of the actors playing the parts speak for themselves—yet the guiding hand he’d wielded was unmistakable. Leaving the cinema afterwards with her friend Chris, Isabella had been in silent awe at what she’d witnessed.

‘The film was wonderful! You should try and get to see it some time. I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.’

Both women turned automatically towards the kitchen. Isabella because she was in dire need of a soothing cup of chamomile tea to calm emotions that had been charged quite unremittingly by Leandro’s film, and Natasha because she was eager to hear any titbits of gossip that Isabella and Chris had shared in her absence.

‘You know me. I don’t really go for those intellectual art-house films. Give me a nice uncomplicated romantic comedy any day!’

‘But it wasn’t trying to be intellectual at all.’

Reaching the kitchen, Isabella filled the electric kettle with water, then plugged it in at the socket next to the toaster. Opening an overhead cupboard, she retrieved a chamomile teabag and dropped it into her favourite patterned pottery mug. ‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked her friend.

‘Neither, thanks. I had a coffee just before you got back and I really should go home, to be honest. I’ve got to be up early to open the nursery at eight.’

‘Okay …but like I was saying …’ Isabella folded her arms across the black ribbed sweater she wore with her red corduroy skirt, a slight frown between her dark brows ‘ …the film wasn’t coming from the intellect at all …It was coming from the heart.’

Shrugging a little self-consciously because she knew that she’d expressed her opinion so passionately, Isabella tried to fend off her natural fear that she shouldn’t reveal her feelings quite so vociferously. Keeping her deeper emotions mostly hidden was something she had learned by necessity to do so that she wouldn’t make waves with her family. And even though she did buck the trend every now and then—such as when she’d called off her wedding to Patrick and upset everybody—somehow the trait had translated to other relationships too. And sometimes, Isabella reflected, the insights and revelations she had learned on the Camino were not always ready to be shared with others …

Generally, people didn’t like you raising topics that made them question the purpose of their own lives. Most folk got along quite happily pretending that everything was fine, she had found—even when it clearly wasn’t.

‘Anyway—’ Natasha grinned ‘—how’s Chris getting on with this new bloke of hers? Do you think he’ll last beyond two or three dates as is her usual record?’

Chris had confided in Isabella that she really liked this new man she was seeing and, yes, she definitely did have hopes that the relationship would last beyond her usual quota of a couple of dates. Her friend yearned to get married and start a family and, at thirty-one years old, had started to fear that it might never happen. Tonight she had confessed to Isabella that she envied her being the mother of a baby son …

At the thought of her little boy, a bubble of joy seemed to burst inside her and Isabella happily anticipated cuddling him later and reacquainting herself with that most delicious of baby scents at the back of his adorable neck. She couldn’t deny she was looking forward to her favourite occupation—spending precious time with her beautiful child. He had truly become the centre of her whole world. For her, walking the Camino Way back in the spring of last year had been even more life changing than she’d anticipated. Now she had Raphael …the unexpected ‘gift’ she’d received from her incredible night of passion with Leandro Reyes. The discovery that she was pregnant had honestly come as the most stupendous of shocks.

They’d been so careful, she’d recalled hotly, even as a stomach-rolling memory had disturbingly nudged her recall—of being half asleep in the dead of night with the shrill repetitive drone of cicadas filling the hot, sultry air and hearing Leandro murmur as if dreaming …Isabella …my Isabella …’ before reaching out to her …Raphael had been conceived during those somehow ‘unreal’ moments when they’d both thought they were dreaming, and Isabella’s previous life, as a young single woman who’d been feeling vaguely dissatisfied and in turmoil about her future and who had chosen to walk the path of an ancient pilgrimage to ‘find’ herself, had been changed for ever. Now, forcing her attention back to the present and a quizzical-looking Natasha, who was clearly wondering what Isabella was looking so ‘dreamy’ about, she flushed a little guiltily. ‘I think that you should talk to Chris herself about that.’ She smiled and turned to fill her mug with the hot water that had boiled.

‘Trying to get some gossip out of you is like trying to get a politician to tell the truth! Bloody impossible! What amazes me is that you and your sister couldn’t be more different! Emilia wouldn’t hesitate to ditch any principles for a juicy story or a job promotion, yet you have enough for the whole of the UK!’

Stirring her tea and extracting the squeezed teabag, Isabella laid it carefully on a saucer and turned back to calmly regard her exasperated friend. It was ironic really. Her parents thought she had no principles for sleeping with some ‘opportunist stranger’ she’d met in Spain and getting pregnant by him and yet her friends thought she was too principled for words! She couldn’t win. ‘I’m honestly not trying to be holier than thou or anything; I just think it’s Chris’s business, that’s all. As for my sister—’ she frowned ‘—I want to be able to sleep tonight so I don’t think I’ll open that particular can of worms if you don’t mind!’

The relationship between the two women was even more strained than usual. Emilia had been frosty with Isabella ever since she’d returned from Spain last year and had not produced the demanded ‘interview’ with Leandro Reyes as she’d hoped—but Isabella had already decided that she was not going to divulge anything about her meeting with the renowned film director to anybody. Their time together had been so precious, so amazing, that she didn’t want to sully the memory of it with gossip. When she’d discovered that she was pregnant by Leandro, she’d strengthened that personal vow even more. Not even Isabella’s parents knew who her little son’s father was …And even though they clearly doted on their unexpected grandchild, they’d declared themselves to be ‘mortally disappointed’ in their eldest daughter for yet again letting down the side.

‘Well, if you’re not going to spill any beans, then I’m afraid I’m just going to have to love you and leave you.’ Her innate good nature overwhelming her disappointment at not learning any new gossip, Natasha stepped towards the dark-haired girl and gave her a genuinely fond hug. ‘Honestly, though, I’m happy to look after Raphael any time. He’s an absolute angel as well as being utterly gorgeous and you’ve made all your girlfriends green with envy …dedicated career women or not!’

‘Thanks, Natasha. It’s been a great help to me to be able to leave him at your nursery when I’m working at the library. I know for sure he’s in good hands.’

‘You’re welcome. And perhaps I’ll go see that film you saw tonight at the weekend? See if it’s as wonderful as you say it is.’

‘You won’t be disappointed, I promise you.’

Already the film had become monumentally important to Isabella because it was yet another precious link to the man she’d given her heart to all those months ago …the man who was unknowingly the father of her baby.

Walking her friend to the door and helping her on with her coat, Isabella turned eagerly towards the bedroom as the other woman finally left, unable to wait even one moment longer to see her sleeping child …

Tipping out the contents of his wallet to search for a telephone number he needed, Leandro came upon a small gold business card from his friend Benito’s hotel. He hadn’t been in touch with him since that night he’d taken Isabella there and now he dropped down into the faded leather chair behind his desk and frowned in deep concentration. All kinds of disturbing emotions seemed to flare in his blood as he continued to broodingly stare at the small embossed card. An avalanche of heat flooded his senses as Leandro recalled that amazing, sexually charged night he’d spent with Isabella. Isabella …

Such a longing arose inside him at the memory of the dark-haired English girl he had been so enamoured with that he’d seduced her on the very first night they’d met and for a moment the depth of that longing was a hollow, aching void in the centre of Leandro’s chest. He had thought about her often since bidding her goodbye outside her hotel in the Port of Vigo and there had been many a time that he had regretted his cautious decision not to give her his telephone number so that they could stay in touch.

But what was she doing now? He longed to know. Had walking the Santiago de Compostela brought her the clarity and sense of purpose that she had hoped it would? Knowing what he knew, Leandro could not doubt that it had. Perversely, in the months that had followed their parting, his personal sense of purpose had been in turmoil. He had won more acclaim for his work than he had ever dreamed of, with offers coming even from Hollywood to further his directorial career. Yet he had also lost his father just a month after meeting Isabella and the loss had been almost too hard to bear.

Suddenly work was not the exciting prospect that took precedence over everything. He was like a wounded soldier who had forgotten to keep his guard up in battle and had unexpectedly been cut down by a sword or a bayonet. His father’s death had been sudden, shocking, his life stolen in one dreadful moment by a drunken driver, and that had made his passing even worse.

Theirs had been a remarkable relationship. As well as being the most amiable and best of men to get along with, Vincente Reyes had been the most dedicated fan of Leandro’s film work. Yet Leandro had not been able to fulfil the one wish that his father had longed to see come true before he died. He had wanted to see his only son married and a father and would have liked nothing better than a grandson or daughter to dote on. But Leandro had not had a long-term girlfriend in nearly three years …how could he even think about a relationship when basically his life was more or less devoted to his work?

But now as he remembered the intensity of emotion he had experienced that night with Isabella, he seriously thought about getting in touch with her again. Thinking of his father and the brutal realisation that life could be so suddenly and frighteningly snatched away, it had made Leandro increasingly sense the importance of making a connection somewhere with another human being. A much more personal connection than he had made in a long, long time. If Isabella had a relationship or was married, then he would leave well alone. However, if she were not …then what would be the harm in arranging to see her again? Feeling his blood throb with purpose, Leandro reached towards the telephone on his desk, automatically punching out a number he used regularly to make travel reservations …

It had been a long day and her throbbing feet and aching back were testimony to just how long a day it had been. She’d practically been standing since she’d come in that morning at nine and now it was just after five in the afternoon. Isabella had never been a ‘clock watcher’ but when you became a parent, she’d discovered, time took on a whole new meaning. It became infinitely precious. Now she was almost resentful of every second that she spent away from her little boy. Stealing another glance at the clock on the wall behind the long curved counter where she stood, she made a neat stack of the letters that needed to go out tonight on her way home and considered the compelling luxury of a long hot bath to ease her tired, aching limbs after she’d put Raphael to bed.