Wed For The Spaniard's Redemption

She had been painfully naïve when she’d met Bryan Westfield, soon after she’d moved out to Australia to stay with her aunt Vivian and uncle Carlos. She’d been looking for someone to fill the hole in her heart left by her parents’ deaths, and blonde good-looking Bryan had seemed like ‘the one’—until she’d realised he had only wanted sex.

‘You’re not the first young woman to have your heart broken and be left with a baby and you won’t be the last,’ Aunt Vivian had said briskly when Juliet had admitted that she was pregnant.

Her aunt had meant well but Juliet had felt stupid, as well as bitterly hurt by Bryan’s rejection, and she’d vowed never to lay herself open to that level of pain again. It made her reaction to Rafael’s undeniable sexual magnetism all the more confusing.

The look of distaste that had flickered over his face when she’d opened the door to him wearing her cleaning overalls had made her shrivel inside. She knew from photographs of him in gossip magazines—invariably with a blonde glamour model or actress hanging on to him—that she was as far from his ideal woman as the earth was from Mars. But his lack of interest in her made it easier to consider his proposition.

‘You said I would be your wife in name only? Does that mean the marriage would not be...’ she hesitated ‘...consummated?’

She was thankful that her scarlet cheeks were hidden in the dark interior of the car. If he laughed she would die of mortification.

‘Physical intimacy between us will not be necessary,’ he said coolly.

He did not actually state that he wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole but the message was clear. Juliet swallowed, feeling ashamed that the gorgeous man beside her found her repellent. They were both wearing jeans, but his were undoubtedly a designer brand, and she’d noted when he had walked around to his side of the car how the denim clung to his lean hips. His tan leather jacket looked as if it had cost the earth, while her clothes came from a discount store and her boots had seen three winters.

With a sigh, she turned her head and stared out of the window.

‘We’re here.’

Rafael’s voice pulled Juliet from her thoughts and she discovered that he had turned the car onto the driveway in front of a large and very beautiful house.

‘Where is “here”?’ she asked when he switched off the engine.

‘My home in England—Ferndown House. It’s too dark to see now, but the house backs on to Hampstead Heath.’

Juliet looked down at the rip in her jeans. ‘I suppose you don’t want to be seen with me in public when I look like this,’ she said flatly.

He turned his head towards her but she could not bring herself to look at him and see his disdainful expression.

After a moment he sighed. ‘I brought you to my home because we will be assured of privacy while we talk, which we would not be in a bar or restaurant. There is no shame in being poor. It is obvious that you work hard to provide for your daughter, but I can help you. We can help each other. Now, come inside and meet my housekeeper. Alice has prepared dinner for us.’

If Juliet could have designed her dream home Ferndown House would have been perfect in every way. From the outside it was a gothic-style Victorian property, but inside it had been cleverly remodelled and refurbished into a sophisticated modern house which still managed to retain many original period features.

She caught her breath when Rafael showed her one huge room, with a stunning parquet floor and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall.

‘The previous owners enjoyed hosting parties in here, but I don’t entertain very often and the room is not used much,’ he told her.

The room would be an ideal dance studio, Juliet thought. It was her dream to one day own a ballet school, and she visualised ballet barres along the walls and a box of the powdered chalk called rosin on the floor, for dancers to rub onto their pointe shoes to help stop them slipping.

She followed Rafael along the hall and looked into another reception room, a study, and a library that overlooked the garden. Outside lighting revealed a large, pretty space with wide lawns, where Poppy would love to play. Juliet gave a faint sigh, thinking of the couple of rusty swings in the playground on the housing estate where she sometimes took her daughter.

Upstairs on the second floor they walked past what she guessed was the master bedroom, with a four-poster bed. Juliet carefully avoided Rafael’s gaze as she wondered how many women had spent the night with him in that enormous bed.

‘There is a nursery along here,’ he said, leading the way along the corridor. He opened a door into a large room with painted murals of fairies on the walls and laughed at her startled expression. ‘I’m not planning to fill the nursery with my own children, but my sister has four-year-old twin girls who sometimes come to stay here.’

They went back downstairs to the dining room, where a cheery fire burned in the hearth and velvet curtains were drawn across the windows.

‘You have a beautiful home,’ Juliet murmured when Rafael drew out a chair at the table and waited for her to sit down before he took his place opposite her.

He was silent while Alice served a first course of gooey baked brie with warm pears. Then the housekeeper left the main course on a heated trolley for them to serve themselves and Rafael poured wine.

‘If you agree to my proposition Ferndown House will be yours and your daughter’s home for the duration of our marriage. When, after a few months, the marriage is dissolved, five million pounds will be transferred into your bank account and you will be able to buy a property of your own. Have you any ideas about where you would like to live?’

‘Somewhere on the coast,’ she said instantly. ‘When I was a child my parents took me on holiday to Cornwall a few times. We stayed in a caravan next to the beach.’ Memories of a happy childhood full of love and laughter tugged on her heart. ‘I’ve always thought how wonderful it would be for Poppy to grow up by the sea.’

‘Agree to my deal and you can make your dreams reality,’ Rafael said in a softly persuasive tone.

Excitement fizzed inside Juliet, overriding the voice of caution in her head. With the money that Rafael was offering she could buy a little cottage with a garden and a sea view. She didn’t want a mansion—just a place that she and Poppy could call home. But what Rafael was asking was wrong, her conscience whispered. Marriage should be a life-long commitment. Her parents had enjoyed a happy marriage and, although Juliet had learned a harsh lesson with Bryan, she still hoped that one day she would fall in love with someone special who would love her in return.

She took a small sip of her wine, determined to keep her wits about her. ‘I’m curious to know why you need a wife so badly that you’re prepared to fork out five million pounds for one.’

‘My grandfather has demanded that I marry before he steps down as head of the Casillas Group and appoints me as CEO of the company and Chairman of the board of directors,’ Rafael said curtly. ‘The dual roles have been passed down to the eldest son for generations. My mother does not have any siblings, which means that I am the next firstborn male and I should be Hector’s successor. Dios, it is my birthright.’

He slapped his hand down on the table and Juliet flinched.

‘Why does your grandfather want you to marry?’

‘He disapproves of my lifestyle.’

She nodded. ‘You do have a reputation as a playboy, and your affair with the wife of a prominent politician was reported in most of today’s newspapers.’

‘I spent one night with Michelle two months ago. The paparazzi must have seen us leave the nightclub together and go to a hotel, but those pictures did not appear in the papers the next day.’ Rafael’s jaw hardened. ‘My guess is that someone paid the photographer to delay offering the pictures to the tabloids until the day the Casillas Group’s biggest-selling retail line Rozita launched a new bridal collection.’

Juliet stared at him. ‘Why would anyone do that?’

‘It could have been a competitor, hoping to damage the company’s reputation, or more likely someone who wanted to blacken my name and convince my grandfather that I would not be a responsible CEO.’

‘Do you have any idea who?’

‘In all probability it was someone on the Casillas Group’s board who does not support my claim to be Hector’s successor, or one of my relatives for the same reason.’

‘How awful that someone in your own family might have betrayed you,’ Juliet murmured. ‘Families are supposed to support one another.’

Rafael stared at her broodingly. ‘The pursuit of power is a ruthless game, with no place for weakness or emotions,’ he said harshly.

While he served their main course of chicken cooked in a creamy sauce Juliet played his words over in her mind and felt a little shiver run through her. She had no doubt that Rafael was ruthless, and he must be utterly determined to become CEO if he was prepared to pay such an incredible amount of money for a wife.

Could she do it? His proposition had seemed crazy at first, but now she understood that his grandfather was forcing Rafael to marry. What he was suggesting was a business deal, she told herself.

The chicken was delicious, and a welcome change from the cheap, microwavable ready meals she tended to live on because fresh, good-quality produce was so expensive. She concentrated on eating her dinner, glad of the distraction.

Rafael got up to throw another log on the fire. The flames crackled and an evocative scent of applewood filled the room. The wine, the food and the general ambience of the room was helping Juliet to relax, and she gave a soft sigh.

‘Can you honestly tell me that you’re not tempted?’

Rafael’s seductive voice curled around her. She took another sip of her wine.

‘Of course I’m tempted. To be honest I can’t even imagine having five million pounds. It’s an unbelievable sum of money and it would certainly transform my life. But I have to consider what is best for Poppy. I’m worried that she might become attached to you while we’re married and be upset when we divorce and you’re no longer around.’

Rafael frowned. ‘I think that scenario is extremely unlikely. Immediately after our marriage you and Poppy will accompany me to Spain to attend my grandfather’s eightieth birthday party. I will present you as my new wife to Hector and he will announce me as his successor. The transition of power will take a little while—maybe a month or two—and we will need to attend a few social engagements together to show the Casillas board members and shareholders that I have reformed my playboy lifestyle since my marriage,’ he said sardonically. ‘After a suitable period of time you and your daughter will be able to return here to Ferndown House—we’ll make the excuse that you prefer her to attend a nursery school in England. It will be necessary for me to spend much of my time at the Casillas Group’s headquarters in Valencia, and the truth is that I won’t come to England very often.’

‘How romantic.’

Juliet told herself it was stupid to feel disappointed that Rafael had made it clear he would avoid her as much as possible.

‘I am not offering you romance,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I want you to be my wife for no other reason than to fulfil my grandfather’s command that I must marry before he will make me CEO.’

He stood up and walked over to the sideboard, returning to lay some papers on the table.

‘We are required to give twenty-eight days’ notice of our intention to marry at the register office. My lawyers have prepared a contract stating that five million pounds will be transferred into your bank account when I succeed my grandfather as head of the Casillas Group. All you have to do is sign your name. I will take care of all the arrangements for our wedding, and for you and your daughter to move from your current home into Ferndown House.’

Juliet stared at the document in front of her and imagined Poppy running around the garden and playing with the dolls’ house in the nursery.

She swallowed. ‘It seems too easy.’

‘It is easy. Everything will be as I have explained to you. There are no catches.’

Rafael’s voice was like warm honey sliding over her. Tempting her. She wished her dad was around so that she could ask his advice—although she knew in her heart that he would advise her against marrying for money.

But five million pounds! Her heart was thudding so hard she was surprised it wasn’t audible in the silent room. If she accepted Rafael’s proposition her money worries would be over, but would she be selling her soul to the devil?

‘I need time to think about it,’ she whispered.

‘I don’t have the luxury of time. I have to be married by my grandfather’s eightieth birthday, which is six weeks from now, or he will appoint my half-brother as his successor.’ Rafael picked up a pen from the table and held it out to her. ‘I am offering you a chance to give your daughter a better life. If you walk away now you will have thrown away that chance. I won’t make the offer again and I will find another bride.’

The clock on the wall ticked loudly.

Do it. Do it.

Juliet snatched the pen from Rafael and signed her name where he showed her. It was for Poppy, she tried to reassure herself. A better future for her daughter.

‘Bueno!’ Rafael did not try to disguise the satisfaction in his voice. He picked up their wine glasses and handed Juliet hers. ‘Let us drink a toast, chiquita, to the shortest marriage on record.’

CHAPTER THREE

A MONTH HAD never passed so quickly—or so it seemed to Juliet.

For the first couple of weeks after she had agreed to Rafael’s marriage proposition she had been busy winding down her sandwich business. Mel had found a buyer for the bakery shop and it had been an emotional moment as they’d closed the door for the last time.

‘I’m intrigued to know more about your new business opportunity in Spain,’ Mel had said. ‘Why are you being so secretive?’

‘I’ll tell you more if it happens.’

Juliet hadn’t revealed to her friend the true reason why she would be going to Spain. She was sure Mel would think she was mad if she explained that she had agreed to marry a man she did not know for money.

As the date of the wedding had drawn closer her doubts had multiplied. But Rafael had promised that there was no catch to their business deal.

Deciding what to tell Agata had been more difficult. Juliet was fond of the Polish woman who had helped her and Poppy so much, and after some soul-searching she’d told Agata the white lie that she was marrying Rafael after a whirlwind courtship.

Today, packing her’s and Poppy’s belongings hadn’t taken long, and a member of Rafael’s staff had come and taken the few cardboard boxes down to an SUV.

Juliet strapped Poppy into the child seat and as the car drove away from the estate on its way to Ferndown House she felt a mixture of relief, apprehension and excitement that refused to be quashed at the prospect of seeing Rafael again.

She had spoken to him once on the phone, when he’d called her to check some details he needed in order to complete the paperwork for their wedding. His gravelly voice with its sexy accent had made her feel hot all over, and she’d closed her eyes and pictured his devastatingly handsome face.

Remembering his disdainful expression when he’d seen her wearing her cleaning overalls, she had taken a bit of time over her appearance today. The pink jumper that Agata had given her at Christmas lent some colour to her washed-out complexion, and the old tube of mascara she’d found at the back of the bathroom cabinet had still had enough in it to darken her pale eyelashes.

But when they arrived at Ferndown House Alice the housekeeper greeted Juliet and explained that Rafael had left the previous day for a business trip to America.

‘He is not sure when he will be back but he asked me to give you his PA’s phone number. Miss Foxton will answer any queries you might have.’ Alice smiled at Poppy. ‘I’ve made some cookies. Would you like one?’

Juliet tried to shrug off her disappointment at Rafael’s absence. There was no reason for them to spend any time together. Their marriage would be a formality which would allow Rafael to become CEO of his family’s company and he was paying her an astounding amount of money to be his temporary wife, she reminded herself.

And sitting alone in the elegant dining room at Ferndown House, enjoying one of the delicious meals that the housekeeper had prepared, was a lot nicer than sitting in her flat with a microwaveable meal after Poppy had gone to bed—although she felt just as lonely.

Rafael finally phoned her the evening before they were due to marry the following day. ‘My plane has just touched down in London and I’m going straight to the office,’ he told her.

His gravelly voice had its usual effect of bringing Juliet’s skin out in goosebumps.

‘I don’t know what time I’ll get back to the house. Make sure you’re ready to leave for the register office at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.’

On her way up to bed she wondered if he really was going to the office so late, or if he planned to spend the night with a mistress. Perhaps he wanted to enjoy his last night as a bachelor before he was forced into a marriage that he patently didn’t want.

It was none of her business what he did, Juliet reminded herself.

There was no logical explanation for her dismal mood. In a few months’ time she would have five million pounds in the bank—more than enough to buy a cottage by the sea and for her to establish her own dance school.

It was after midnight when she heard a car pull up outside the house, and when she hopped out of bed and ran across to the window her heart skipped a beat as she saw Rafael’s tall frame unfold from his Lamborghini. The moonlight danced across his face, highlighting his chiselled jaw and sharp cheekbones.

Tomorrow he would be her husband.

Butterflies leapt in her stomach—nerves, she supposed. But around dawn she woke feeling horribly sick. Frequent trips to the bathroom followed, and the severe bouts of vomiting left her feeling drained.

She certainly did not look like a blushing bride, Juliet thought as she stared at her ashen face and lank hair in the mirror. It was ten o’clock and she needed to hurry up and get ready.

Choosing what to wear did not take her long. She lived in jeans or a denim skirt, and the only vaguely smart item of clothing she owned was a mustard-coloured dress she’d bought in a sale years ago when she had first moved to Australia and needed something to wear to job interviews. The colour hadn’t looked so bad in the Australian sunshine, but on a grey spring day in England it made her pale skin look sallow.

She would have liked to buy something pretty to wear on her wedding day, but since her sandwich business had closed down and she’d given up her cleaning job she hadn’t had an income. Living at Ferndown House meant that she hadn’t had to pay for food, but she’d spent the last of her money on new shoes for Poppy.

Juliet had no time to worry about her appearance when another bout of sickness sent her rushing into the bathroom, and she emerged feeling shivery and hot at the same time. Then she spent ten minutes searching for Poppy’s favourite teddy, knowing that her daughter would not sleep at night without Mr Bear. Finally they were ready.

Was she doing the right thing?

It was too late for second thoughts now, she told herself. She had already given up her flat and her job. If she did not marry Rafael she would be homeless.

As Juliet walked down the stairs a wave of dizziness swept over her. She clung to the banister rail with one hand and held on to Poppy with the other.

Rafael strolled into the hall and an expression of horror flickered across his face as he studied her appearance, before he quickly schooled his features and gave her a cool smile. He looked utterly gorgeous in a grey three-piece suit that emphasised his broad shoulders and athletic build. His black hair was swept back from his brow and the designer stubble on his jaw gave him an edgy sex appeal that was irresistible.

‘I couldn’t afford to buy a new outfit for the wedding,’ Juliet told him stiffly.

She wished the ground would open up beneath her feet when she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. She hadn’t had the energy to do anything fancy with her hair and it hung in a heavy braid down her back.

‘You look fine,’ Rafael assured her smoothly.

It was a blatant lie, she thought.

She wished she wasn’t so agonisingly aware of him. Her breath snagged in her throat when he lifted his hand and lightly touched her face.

‘Although I’m guessing from the dark circles beneath your eyes that you did not sleep well last night, he murmured. ‘You will do very well,’ he added, in a satisfied tone that puzzled her.

But then he hurried her out to the car and she was too busy strapping Poppy into the child seat to think about Rafael’s odd statement.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.