The Spaniard's Pregnant Bride
“That’s fine. It isn’t my reputation that will suffer as a result. You were the one who was engaged. You are the woman. Therefore, all of the judgment will be heaped on top of you.”
She snorted. “It’s already being heaped upon me. In case you hadn’t checked out a headline recently.”
“It may surprise you to hear this, but my life does not revolve around reading news stories concerning your exploits.
“Why should I read the tabloids? I went to Renzo instead and he knew much more than any of the so-called breaking news.”
She recoiled. “Does that mean that... Does Renzo know?”
“Renzo is not an idiot. I assume that once I began questioning him about what costume you had worn to the ball, and then stormed out after the revelation of your pregnancy—combining that with your inquiries about me earlier—he was able to do a bit of simple math.”
“But you’re still alive,” she said, confident that if her brother truly knew that she had made love to Cristian, Cristian would, in fact, be dead.
“Of course. I’m sure it only makes sense to him that I had no idea it was you. He knows that under normal circumstances I would never consider touching you.”
Rage and wounded feminine pride poured through Allegra like a toxic elixir. “Well, he must be very proud that your standards are so high. I’m so sorry that my identity was a disappointment to you. However, we both know that you quite enjoyed what happened. In fact, you enjoyed it so much that it was extremely brief.”
His top lip curled. “You enjoyed it no less for the brief nature of it.”
“So confident?”
“I have a very strong memory of how intensely you came around me, Allegra,” he said, his voice rough. “You cannot fake that.”
“Women,” she said, her voice trembling, “can fake things.”
“Women can only fake things if their partner is stupid, or inexperienced. I am neither.” He took a step toward her. “I felt you. I felt you trembling. I felt the waves as they washed through you. I felt your pleasure as keenly as I felt my own. Do not pretend it was somehow less than satisfying now that you know my identity.”
“It’s so important for you to have your male ego stroked, and yet you can barely stand the sight of me. That’s sort of twisted, Cristian.”
He laughed, dark, merciless. “I never claimed to be anything else.”
“You don’t want me. I doubt you want the baby.”
“Oh,” he said, “that’s where you’re wrong. I need the baby.”
“If you need him for some kind of ritual sacrifice then you’re definitely out of luck.”
“No, thank you. My life has quite enough death in it without adding any more, thank you. That was very poor humor.”
She looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me now. You don’t mean it.”
“Why do you need the baby?”
“Because. For as humbly as I present myself, I am in fact an aristocrat. A duke.”
“I did know. Your arrogance announces it before you walk into a room.”
“Then you must surely understand that I require an heir. A legitimate heir. My child cannot be born a bastard, Allegra. Neither can I afford to miss this opportunity.”
“Our...baby is an opportunity?”
“Certainly it is an opportunity for my bloodline. I am a widower, and thanks to those circumstances I have failed to produce an heir. As I am now in my thirties, it becomes yet more and more important. Of course, my own father produced his heir quite by accident. But in spite of the fact that my mother was nothing more than a washed-up model, he still did the right thing by her, by me and by the dukedom dependent upon the bloodline continuing. I can do no less. Don’t you agree?”
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“Exactly that. I am proposing.”
“What?” Her heart was thundering so hard, her blood pouring through her ears. She felt like she was underwater. Could hardly breathe, could scarcely hear anything.
“Allegra Valenti, you are having my baby. And you will be my wife.”
CHAPTER THREE
CRISTIAN STARED AT the recalcitrant woman sitting across from him on his private plane. He could not remember a woman ever looking quite so angry when in the presence of such luxury. At least, as far back as he could remember. It had been quite some time since he’d had a woman on his plane in that sense of the word.
Quite some time since he’d had a lover.
Not that Allegra was his lover. She absolutely was not. A quick screw against the wall didn’t make her anything. It simply made him weak.
Three years of celibacy. It was to be expected, he supposed. And yet, he had not imagined that he would be punished quite so spectacularly for his loss of control. He felt as though he had been punished enough.
Clearly, there was a particularly capricious deity somewhere that disagreed.
And such a punishment was Allegra Valenti.
She was looking particularly pretty and sulky, nearly curling in on herself as she leaned against the window, as though she would rather be thrown through it and hurled down to the earth than spend one more moment in his presence.
“Have you anything to say, Allegra?”
“Why? I believe I shouted it all at you in the apartment. And again when we got into the car. I could shout the same things at you, but I fear it would be repetitive.”
“Oh, please do. I never tire of your excuses. All of which are incredibly selfish.”
“It isn’t selfish to think perhaps it isn’t the best idea for two people who can’t stand the sight of each other to get married.”
“Why not? Plenty of people do it. You only have to survive it until death separates us.”
“How easy is it to get a hold of arsenic in Spain?”
“Such a delight, Allegra. How is it that you and I never acted on our feelings for each other before?”
“You mean the arsenic feelings?”
He laughed. “I meant our attraction, mi tesoro.”
“We don’t have an attraction, Cristian,” she said, sounding very much like a disgusted teenager. “In fact, the two of us had to be completely disguised before anything like heat flared between us at all. I would say that we don’t have to worry about anything.”
Referencing that night sent a kick of heat through him. He had done nothing but dream about it ever since it had happened. The fact that it was Allegra Valenti he had lost his mind with twisted it into a nightmare. But it was a nightmare that was no less erotic than it had been before.
He hadn’t been with a woman since Sylvia’s death. Had not even been tempted. And then, he had descended the stairs of the ballroom to see a wild, purple creature, barely wrapped in that sensuous dress, her curves golden and generous. Her dark hair curling luxuriously around temptingly exposed shoulders.
He had known only one thing in that moment. Want. He had wanted her with a deep, feral desire that had transcended anything else. It had transcended reason. It had transcended decency. He had wanted nothing to spoil the moment. And so, when he had approached her, he had prevented her from speaking. He had not said a single word to her. He had not wanted to lose whatever spell had been cast over them.
He should have known that it was witchcraft. And that he would burn for it.
One indulgence in a lifetime of obedience and he had destroyed everything.
“I fear you are wrong on that score,” he said, schooling his tone into a bored, steady rhythm. “Chemistry like this is undeniable.”
She waved a hand. “Look at me. Denying it.”
“Your denial is empty as you carry my child in your womb.”
“Only because I didn’t know it was you that I was...with that night at the ball,” she shot back.
“So you say.”
“A marriage between us will not work,” she said, her words brittle.
“Oh, I have no doubt that it won’t. But you will marry me before the child is born, and you will stay married to me for what appears to be a suitable amount of time. Afterward, divorce me. As quickly and painlessly as you would like.”
“There will never be anything painless about a divorce where my parents are concerned.”
“I imagine not. They are very Catholic, are they not?”
She frowned. “I shall be married to you until the end of time in their eyes.”
“And yet, I find that my need for an heir transcends my concerns for your sense of family.”
“There is nothing simple about this, that’s my point. Anyway, you’re acting as though I can just take a couple of years out of my life to molder away in some Spanish castle.”
“It’s more of a villa.”
“And you’re only a duke. I was supposed to marry a prince.”
“It was not the prince who had you up against a wall, Allegra. I doubt you’re regretful of the fact that you can no longer marry Prince Raphael.”
“That’s almost like admitting you’re wrong, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone baiting. “Seeing as you essentially arranged our engagement.”
“I was not wrong about it being advantageous. Chemistry, on the other hand, is harder to predict. You clearly have no great passion with him.”
Her cheeks colored. “What makes you think that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “You didn’t think for one moment the child could be his. Otherwise, you would not have broken off your engagement. What other conclusion can I draw but one which suggests you are not actively sleeping with him?”
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Maybe it isn’t yours. Maybe I make love to all manner of strange men in corridors at parties. Maybe the only thing I’m certain about is that it isn’t Raphael’s because he’s such a gentleman that he wouldn’t touch me.”
“Still trying that story out?”
“Perhaps it’s the truth. Perhaps, I am the very whore of Babylon.” She lifted her chin and shook her head, her dark hair shimmering in the light. “You don’t know me, Cristian. Not really. At least, you don’t know the woman I have grown into. You have this idea that I’m a child, but I am in my twenties.”
He laughed, suddenly feeling quite old. “Ancient.”
“I only mean that I am a woman. Whatever you might think.”
“I am under no illusions about your femininity, Allegra.”
He was gratified to see her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, however, there was a cost to the victory. It made his stomach tighten with hunger. Made his body ache with need.
For Allegra.
It was unacceptable.
“Well, there are a great many men who have no illusion about it,” she sniffed. “They know about it. Personally.”
He didn’t believe her. And yet, the thought of Allegra with other men angered him. He could only attribute the possessiveness to the fact that she was having his baby. Perhaps combined with the fact that she was the first woman he had been with in quite some time.
“Or perhaps,” Cristian said, watching her face closely, “you are so certain about it because you were a virgin.”
He relived the moment that he had pushed inside her body. She had been tight, there was no doubt about that. He had attributed the cry she’d made at the time to pleasure. Now, he wondered.
The realization was...intoxicating. He should be disgusted with himself. But he was...triumphant. He wondered about himself. At whether or not he was still under some kind of black magic spell.
The color in her face deepened. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Closer to the truth, I think.”
“Who would lose their virginity that way?” She sounded close to hysterical.
“Perhaps a woman who is being married off to a man she doesn’t love?”
She said nothing. Satisfaction surged through him, and he gritted his teeth to hold back a growl of triumph. “The child is mine then. For certain.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He kept his eyes trained on her, trying to ignore the riot of heat that was coursing through him. “You will give me my heir, my legitimate heir, and preserve the reputation of the child, and then you can move on as though none of this happened.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet! And are you suggesting I leave our child with you?”
“The Acosta heir should be raised in Spain, I should think.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. Helplessly, he found his gaze drawn to the soft swells. “I’m not leaving my child. Regardless of our arrangements.”
“Perhaps I can install you in the servants’ quarters once our divorce is finalized.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You have ample evidence that I dare quite a few things, and yet, still you challenge me?”
She turned away from him, all shimmering indignity. It wasn’t that he had never noticed she was beautiful. That much was obvious. She had been beautiful ever since she had been a sullen teenager. He had the feeling that her family missed her moods. Missed the subtle pout in her face whenever her upcoming marriage was mentioned. Or the storm that flashed in her eyes whenever her future was discussed.
Even as he had disapproved of her attitude, he had found her pretty. But that was different than the way he saw her now. Now, he could look at her and see nothing other than the temptress that had greeted him in the ballroom. Who had touched him as though he was some sort of new miracle to her.
You were. She was a virgin.
He gritted his teeth, leaning back against his own seat. How was it that he felt like the villain in this situation?
“When we get to Spain I will arrange for you to get an engagement ring. And we will begin arrangements for the wedding.”
“I didn’t agree to this. You seem to be missing that.”
“I’m not waiting for your agreement. I do not require it.”
“Yes, you do. My former fiancé was a prince, and not even he could force me into marriage. You certainly aren’t going to.”
“Let us discuss your choices. The choices you seem to feel you have in abundance. You could go back to Italy, an unwed mother who would have to enter into a custody battle with me. And I do believe that your mother and father would likely take my side.” He watched as she paled. He nearly felt like a bastard. Nearly. “If you want access to your child, if you want anything other than a life of disgrace where you will certainly be ostracized by your parents as they make room for their grandchild, the grandchild you rejected because you refused to marry the father, then by all means. We can land the plane early and I can allow you to disembark. Otherwise, I suggest that you come to terms with the fact that you have simply traded one arranged marriage for another. But I, at least, will not require the use of your body again.”
She said nothing. Instead, she stared straight ahead, blinking furiously, as though she was trying to keep herself from crying. And again, he felt like the villain. He was not being villainous. He was merely being practical.
He imagined that if he told Allegra that, she would not find it to be the same.
“Nothing to say?” he asked.
“As you have made it perfectly clear there is nothing to say. Except that I’ll marry you.”
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