Redeemed By His Stolen Bride

There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight again. And if the opportunity presented itself to remind Sanchez of where he belonged, Gabriel would be a fool not to exploit it.

Leonora cursed silently. Between the fronds of the exotic plant she could see where the photographers were lined up, no doubt ready to capture the smiling couple emerging from the hotel. There was no other way out without going through the lobby. One way or another they would see her, either scuttling away as if she was the one in the wrong, or walking out without her new fiancé.

Just as she was steeling herself to run the gauntlet, she felt the back of her neck prickle with awareness and her skin tingled all over.

She turned around and Gabriel Ortega Cruz y Torres was standing a couple of feet away, looking at her. She gulped. He was even taller up close. Broader. Thick dark hair swept back off his forehead. Deep-set dark eyes. Strong brows. A patrician nose and a firm, unyielding mouth.

His bottom lip was surprisingly lush, though, softening the hard edges of his face and making her wonder what it would feel like to touch…kiss… She could imagine him lounging on jewel-coloured cushions, summoning his minions.

Summoning his lovers.

A wave of heat flashed through her body. She was losing it. She never imagined kissing men. She was a twenty-four-year-old virgin, because her life had revolved around her parents, the castle and her disabled brother. She’d been more of a mother than a sister to her brother, since their world had imploded after her father’s gambling excesses. She’d literally had no time for anything else. Anything normal. Like relationships.

Before she could even think of something to say Gabriel came forward and his scent reached her nostrils, sharp and infinitely masculine. Exotic.

‘Would you like me to get you out of here?’

His voice was deep and compelling.

Leonora’s response was swift and instinctive. She nodded.

‘We’ll go out through the main entrance. Don’t look left or right, just let me guide you.’

He plucked something out of his pocket and Leonora saw that it was a phone. He issued a curt instruction and put the phone back, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘My car is outside. Let’s go.’

Before Leonora knew what was happening Gabriel Torres had taken her elbow in his hand and they were already halfway across the lobby. Flashes erupted from outside, and as soon as they got through the doors there was a barrage of noise and calls.

‘Leonora! Where’s Lazaro Sanchez?’

Leonora ignored it all and followed Gabriel’s instructions, looking straight ahead.

A sleek low-slung silver bullet of a car was parked by the kerb and the doorman sprang aside as Gabriel helped her into the front passenger seat. The door was shut, cocooning her in expensive leather and metal and blissful silence, which was only broken briefly when Gabriel came around to the driver’s side and opened the door, settling himself into the car.

Within seconds they were moving through the throng of press, who had to part to let them through. Leonora flinched at the bright flashes from their cameras as the paparazzi pressed cameras up to the window to get their shots.

‘I should have tried to leave through a back entrance. I’ll be on every front page tomorrow.’

She felt Gabriel glance at her. ‘Why should you? You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’

Leonora’s heart was pounding. She saw Gabriel’s hand work the gearstick. Square-shaped long fingers. Short, blunt nails. Masculine.

Her lower body clenched.

‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she said.

Her voice was husky. She looked at Gabriel, whose jaw was tight.

‘It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have been thrown to the wolves like that.’

She got the impression that he was angry. On her behalf. She barely knew him. Her relief at being out of that situation was taking the edges off her own anger at Lazaro.

‘Well…thank you.’

She noticed then that they were driving through one of Madrid’s exclusive city enclaves. Leafy streets and chic cosmopolitan bars and restaurants. Expensive antique shops and designer boutiques. Elegant buildings mixed with new architecture.

Feeling embarrassed now, and thinking that Gabriel might be regretting his good deed, Leonora said, ‘You really don’t have to take me home. I’m the other way, anyway. I can jump out here and get a taxi.’

He shook his head and glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Not if you don’t want them to follow you home, you can’t.’

Leonora looked behind them and saw a couple of motorbikes weaving in and out of traffic, following them. Her heart sank at the thought of them outside the family estate. If Matías saw them he’d get confused and upset…

At that moment Gabriel said, ‘Hang on,’ and then surged ahead as a traffic light turned to red. He negotiated a couple of rapid turns down dark side streets that had Leonora’s heart jumping into her throat, but at no point did she feel unsafe. It was exhilarating.

With the next turn into a quiet residential street Leonora sucked in a breath. It looked as if they were going to drive straight into a wall, but it quickly revealed itself to be a door that opened and allowed them entry down into a private garage under the building.

Gabriel pulled to a stop beside a row of equally sleek cars. ‘I think we lost them at the last traffic lights.’

Silence descended around them. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

‘At my city apartment. You can wait here for a bit—let them lose you. I’ll organise for you to get home later. If you want.’

If you want.

Leonora looked at Gabriel, still reeling at everything that had happened and at the fact that he was her rescuer. His eyes were on her, dark and unreadable, and yet she felt as if some silent communication was taking place. Something she didn’t understand fully. Or didn’t want to investigate fully.

‘Okay…if you’re sure. I don’t want to bother you.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re not bothering me. Don’t worry.’

He undid his seat-belt and uncoiled his tall frame from the car. He came around and opened her door and held out a hand.

Leonora almost didn’t want to touch him, afraid of how she’d react. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her elbow. But she couldn’t dither, so she put her hand in his and let him pull her out. And she’d been right to be afraid, because a jolt of electricity ran up her arm and right down into her core.

By the time she straightened up she was breathless. And she was so close to Gabriel that one more step would bring her flush with his body. She could sense the whipcord strength beneath his bespoke suit. Her eye line rested just below his bowtie.

His hand wrapped around hers. ‘Okay?’

She looked up and forced a smile, trying not to be intimidated by the sheer masculine beauty of the man. His proximity. ‘Fine… Just a bit shaky after the paparazzi. Normally I don’t register on their radar.’

Not the way this man did. He was slavishly followed and speculated upon by press eager to get a story on the reclusive billionaire. She thought of the papers tomorrow. Her head hurt at the prospect of her parents’ reaction. They were depending on her to redeem the family name and finances, not to embroil them in another scandal.

Gabriel let her hand go and Leonora suddenly realised something with dismay. ‘My bag and coat!’

Lazaro had arranged for someone to take them to the cloakroom at the hotel.

Gabriel said, ‘Come upstairs and I’ll arrange for them to be delivered here.’

He opened a door that led out into a dimly lit foyer. A security guard stepped into the light. ‘Good evening, Señor Torres.’

‘Good evening, Pancho. One of my team will be delivering something shortly. Let them in and send it up, please.’

‘Of course, sir.’

Gabriel put his hand on Leonora’s back, guiding her with a barely perceptible touch over to an elevator. Even so, she could feel his hand through her dress, and had the ridiculous urge to sink back against him, let him take her weight.

It unnerved her how much he made her feel, so she stood apart from him in the small space as the doors slid shut and he pressed a button. It rose silently and stopped a few seconds later with a small jerking motion.

The doors slid open and Gabriel put out a hand, indicating for Leonora to precede him. She stepped out and into a stunning penthouse apartment. It had all the original features of the building’s era—around the nineteenth century, Leonora guessed—but none of the fussiness.

It was a very contemporary apartment in the shell of one of Madrid’s classic buildings. Modern art hung on the walls, with spotlights directing the eye to bold slashing strokes and colours. Surprisingly sensual. Something about the design—the lack of clutter, the open spaces—soothed her. The furniture was deceptively plain and unobtrusive, letting the interior speak for itself. She’d never seen anything quite like it.

She watched as Gabriel strode over to French doors, opening them to let some air in. Leonora only realised then how close it was. The late-summer city heat was still oppressive. He took his phone out of his pocket and made a call, speaking in low tones. She assumed he was arranging to have her things collected.

He turned around to face her then, tugging at his bowtie, undoing it. Opening the top button of his shirt. She almost looked away, feeling as if she was intruding on some intimacy.

He gestured with a hand to a couch. ‘Please—sit, make yourself comfortable…’

Leonora stepped further into the room, feeling naked without her wrap or bag. ‘I’m fine, thank you. You have a beautiful apartment.’

No doubt it was just one of the hundreds of properties owned by him and his family all over Spain and the world.

It was well known that he was seen very much as the patriarch of his family, even though his father was still alive. And Leonora was vaguely aware of a rumour about his younger sister going off the rails and how she’d been sent abroad to clean up her act.

She shivered slightly at the thought of what it must be like to face a disapproving or angry Gabriel Torres. She didn’t even know his sister, or if the rumour was true, but she already felt sorry for her.

‘Would you like a drink?’ He walked over to an elaborate drinks cabinet. ‘I have whiskey, brandy, champagne, wine, gin—’

‘I’ll have a little whiskey please,’ she blurted out, needing something to settle her clanging nerves.

He poured dark golden liquid into a small tumbler and brought it over to her. ‘It’s Irish. I believe it’s meant to be very good.’

Leonora took it, distracted by the bowtie dangling at his neck and the open top button of his shirt. She could see dark bronzed skin. A hint of hair.

‘You haven’t tasted it?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t drink.’

She watched as he moved back, giving her space. It fitted that he didn’t drink. He seemed far too controlled. Exacting. Alert. She wondered why he didn’t, but wasn’t going to ask.

As if he could read her mind, though, he supplied, ‘I was put off after watching how alcohol affected people’s judgement and their decision-making. Not least my father’s. He almost ruined the family business.’

So that was why Gabriel now ran their extensive operation.

‘I’m sorry to hear that…’ Impulsively she added, ‘I have some idea of what you’re talking about.’

She wondered why she’d said that, but there was something about being in this space with this man that didn’t feel entirely real.

To her relief he didn’t say anything, or ask her to elaborate on the fact that her father’s vices had driven them to the brink and over. Anyway, he probably knew the sordid details. Most people did. But for the first time she didn’t feel that burning rise of shame. Maybe it was his admission that his family wasn’t perfect either.

He said, ‘I’m sorry for what happened to you this evening. You didn’t deserve that. You’re too good for a man like Lazaro Sanchez.’

Leonora clutched the tumbler to her chest. She’d yet to take a sip of the drink. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. And how can you say I’m too good for him? You don’t even know me.’

‘Don’t I?’ he asked softly, raising a dark brow. ‘We come from the same world, Leonora. We might not have had a conversation before now, but we know more about each other than you realise—and I’m not talking about idle gossip. I’m talking about the lives we’ve led. The expectations on our shoulders. The life built on legacy and duty. Responsibility.’

CHAPTER TWO

GABRIEL MARVELLED AT how expressive Leonora was. She clearly hadn’t expected him to say that. He’d caught her unawares. Her eyes were wide on his, as if he’d shocked her.

He realised now that they weren’t dark brown, as he’d assumed. They were grey. Like a stormy ocean. But even as he had that fanciful notion she seemed to come back to herself and her face resumed its serene mask. The same one she’d been wearing earlier, standing beside Lazaro Sanchez. Before all hell had broken loose.

She took a sip of her drink and he noticed her hand wasn’t entirely steady. He had to clench his fist to stop from reaching out and taking her hand in his. He saw her throat work as she swallowed and he imagined the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down into her stomach, radiating heat. Mirroring the heat he felt in his blood.

Dios, but she was stunning. Possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And she was getting to him in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. Usually when he desired a woman it was a manageable thing. Right now it was taking all his restraint not to seduce Leonora to within an inch of her life and demand the satisfaction his body was crying out for. A kind of satisfaction that he knew instinctively would eclipse anything he’d ever experienced before.

He stepped back and gestured to a nearby couch. ‘Please, sit down. Your things should be here soon.’

For a long moment Leonora couldn’t move. She was still in shock at how succinctly Gabriel had summed up her existence.

‘The lives we’ve led… The expectations on our shoulders… The life built on legacy and duty. Responsibility.’

She’d never felt that anyone could possibly understand what her life was like. She had very little to complain about and yet sometimes she felt as trapped as if she was in jail.

He was looking at her. He’d just asked if she wanted to sit down.

She shook her head jerkily. ‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’

She felt restless, and she walked over to where floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a terrace and further, to the skyline of Madrid under a clear starlit sky. She had a very fleeting moment of wondering what Lazaro was doing right now. Dealing with the mother of his child?

A tiny sense of hysteria at what had happened rose up and she took another hasty sip of whiskey to try and force it back down.

Gabriel came to stand near her. She could see him in the reflection of the window. He’d taken off his jacket and his chest and shoulders looked impossibly broad under the snowy shirt.

She saw her own reflection. The strapless red dress. She’d hoped its elegant simplicity would prove to be timeless, because it was many seasons out of date. She saw the glittering drop earrings hanging from her earlobes that looked like diamonds. But they weren’t diamonds at all. They were cubic zirconia. It was a long time since she’d worn any real family jewels. They’d all been sold by her father to get money for gambling.

She felt like a fraud, and the humiliation from earlier rose up again. She quickly downed the last of her drink, guiltily relishing the last dregs of comfort from the alcohol.

She turned to face Gabriel, avoiding his eye. ‘I should leave—go home. My mother and father will be worried.’

And Matías.

Just thinking of him made her heart hurt. What would happen to them now? If they lost the castle then that was it. They would have hit rock bottom with no way back. An entire dynasty and legacy wiped out through the actions of her father…

‘Don’t go yet.’

She looked at Gabriel. Her heart thumped hard. His face was all lean angles and harsh lines. And then softened by that ridiculously sensual mouth.

‘We’re still waiting for your things.’

Leonora was torn. She wanted to appear totally at ease and sophisticated, draping herself artfully on one of the sofas while wittily regaling Gabriel with inconsequential chatter. But that wasn’t her. Had never been her.

‘I can get them tomorrow. They’re not that important.’

She felt that the longer she stood there the quicker he’d see that he was having an effect on her.

He came closer and moved to take the empty glass from her hand. He put his fingers over hers. A deliberate move? The breath stuck in her throat. He was so…vital. Lazaro had never had this effect on her and she’d believed that it would make for a better marriage. No extreme feelings or wants.

Gabriel said, ‘The paparazzi will know for sure by now that your engagement wasn’t announced. They’ll be actively hunting you down. Waiting for you. You should call your parents—warn them to stay inside.’

Leonora swallowed. Gabriel’s fingers were still on hers. ‘But I can’t just…stay here.’

‘Of course you can.’ He took the glass out of her nerveless fingers and in the same motion, with his other hand, he handed her his phone. ‘Use this.’

It seemed to be a foregone conclusion. And she knew he was right. She couldn’t go back home now and face a barrage of lights and questions. Out of concern for Matías as much as anything else.

Leonora moved away from Gabriel and dialled her home number. Her mother answered, immediately concerned, and Leonora rushed to assure her that everything was okay. She filled her in on the broad strokes of what had happened and told her not to worry. She told her that she’d spend the night elsewhere, to draw the press away from the de la Vega home. Her mother sounded disappointed—and then just weary. They’d been here before, with the press camped outside.

When she’d ended the conversation, after checking that Matías was okay, Leonora handed the phone back.

Gabriel said, ‘Your brother is not well?’

Leonora gave a small tight smile. ‘He has…learning difficulties. Since birth. He’s home at the moment—from the school he attends just outside Madrid.’

The school that was paid for out of the receipts from tours around the Flores de la Vega castle. And with the money from the designer clothes and jewellery Leonora sold over the years online. The school that he loved and thrived in. The school that was offering him a real chance at a life in the outside world as he moved into adulthood.

The school that they would no longer be able to afford if they had to sell the castle—the only thing keeping them afloat in a sea of debts.

‘He picks up on moods and tension very acutely, so he’d be upset if he knew the press were outside, or if there was anything wrong with me.’

‘You’re close?’

Leonora looked at Gabriel, expecting to see the same look most people had when they heard about Matías, varying between mild disdain and salacious curiosity. Or pity. But Gabriel’s face and eyes held none of those things. Just a genuine question.

She nodded, feeling emotional. ‘The closest. He’s eighteen now, and when he was born I was six. He was like my baby more than my little brother.’

‘That would have been before your fortunes…changed.’

Leonora appreciated his attempt at tact. He was obviously referring to the fact that her parents had once been such fixtures on the Spanish social scene that they probably hadn’t been around much to parent. Making their fall from grace even more explosive. They’d gone down in a ball of flames and infamy when her father had been thrown out of the casino in Monte Carlo with his wife clinging to his coat, weeping uncontrollably.

That was one of the reasons for their reclusiveness these days. Her parents’ shame. Hence their desire and need for redemption. Through Leonora.

She diverted her mind from that and said, ‘Something like that. Yes.’ She looked away, embarrassed.

‘That was them—not you. You’re not like them.’

Leonora looked at him. Had he moved closer? The way he made her feel—the way he seemed to be looking deeper into her than anyone else ever had—made her prickly.

‘You don’t know that I don’t have a gambling habit.’

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he said, ‘True, I don’t. But I don’t believe you do.’

He was definitely closer now. Close enough for Leonora to see the stubble lining his jaw. And that his eyes had golden flecks—they weren’t just brown.

She shook her head. ‘Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me? We’ve never met before this evening. I mean…not properly.’

Even with Leonora’s family connections they’d moved in a lesser sphere than the Torres family.

‘No. But our paths have crossed—even if just peripherally. I realised something this evening—I have always noticed you…on the edges. As if you’d prefer to disappear.’

Leonora blushed to think she’d been so transparent.

‘And I realised something else.’

She looked at him.

‘You have become a very beautiful woman.’

A tingling rush of heat coursed through her blood. The way he was looking at her was so…intense. She could almost feel it…as if he was touching her.

He took another step closer. Almost close enough now that she could imagine him bending down and pressing his mouth to hers.

Leonora was barely breathing. She was hot—so hot. All over. Deep down where no man had ever had any effect on her before.

‘I want you, Leonora.’

For a long, suspended moment neither one of them moved. Gabriel was watching her as she struggled to absorb this information. So, all these sensations making her melt from the inside out…it wasn’t just her.

For a second it was too heady to consider. The fact that he thought she was beautiful. And that he wanted her. Her. A woman who lived a more sheltered existence than most nuns.

At that moment there was a chiming sound. Gabriel emitted a curse under his breath and said, ‘Don’t move. That’s the concierge with your things.’

He turned and she watched him walk across the vast room with athletic grace. He disappeared and she heard a door open, low voices. She saw the French doors and suddenly needed—craved—oxygen. She walked outside, drawing in deep lungsful of the night air. The sounds of traffic floating up from nearby streets helped to ground her in reality a little.

What was she doing? Practically falling into Gabriel Torres’s arms after mere words? He was probably just being polite, helping to soothe what he assumed was her damaged ego. But in all honesty relief was her overriding feeling when she thought about Lazaro and the wreckage of their engagement.

It had been an audacious plan in any case—agreeing to marry a man purely for strategic reasons. Because it would benefit them both. It shamed her now. Yet she knew it was silly to feel shame, because her parents’ marriage had been a strategic one. In their world every marriage was a strategic one. Too much was at stake when legacies and dynasties had to be passed down to the next generation for emotion to be involved in making a marriage.

The fact that her parents got on and had some affection for each other was just a bonus. It had helped them weather the storm of infamy and their son’s vulnerabilities.