The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride by Chantelle Shaw Page A

French knickers. If anything she looked even more inviting than she had last night, all flushed and sleepy and incredibly sexy. The urge to dispense with her pretty lacy underwear and slide his hands into her mass of silky brown hair that fell almost to her waist was so strong that his nostrils flared, and he wished he’d covered himself with a larger towel. She was nothing like his usual choice of nubile, sophisticated blondes but for some reason this delicate English rose with her doe eyes and elusive smile caused his blood to pump through his veins so that his arousal was instant and shockingly hard.
    â€˜I have to go home,’ Grace mumbled, tearing her eyes from the temptation of his body and focusing on the carpet. ‘I need to see my father and explain about…us—the wedding and everything—before he reads about it in the newspapers, but I can’t find my passport. I think I must have left it at the hotel.’ And yet she was absolutely certain it had been in her case. She frowned when Javier dropped the towel he had been using to dry his hair onto the bed before strolling across the room towards her.
    â€˜Will you ring the hotel in Granada and see if it’s been found?’
    â€˜No.’ The laconic reply stirred her temper and she crossed her arms over her chest, belatedly wishing she had pulled on some clothes before she’d hurtled into his room. His bold amber gaze skimmed her curves and caused heat to suffuse her body. She remembered the way he’d dragged her against the burning heat of his pelvis the previous night, and for the life of her she couldn’t prevent her eyes from straying down to the towel draped around his hips.
    â€˜This is important, Javier, I have to find my passport.’
    He regarded her silently through hooded lids for what seemed an age. The sexual chemistry between them was a potent force, Grace acknowledged as her pulse rate accelerated. It would only take one of them to make a move and the whole room would ignite. But it was imperative to remember why she was here—her father. ‘Javier…please.’
    â€˜Your passport is locked away in my safe.’ He finally broke eye contact and moved away from her to extract a shirt from the wardrobe.
    â€˜But…how did it get there?’ She watched as he slid his arms into the shirt and began to fasten the buttons. ‘Did you steal it out of my case?’
    â€˜I did not steal it. Your father is the expert thief, not me, querida . I simply removed it from your case to keep it secure.’
    â€˜Well, you can damn well give it back.’ Twin spots of colour burned on Grace’s cheeks. ‘How dare you rifle through my personal belongings? Will you please fetch it. With any luck I’ll be able to change my flight for one that leaves today.’
    â€˜Do you seriously expect me to allow you to travel back to England?’ Javier demanded with breathtaking arrogance. ‘Your father’s debts have been settled from my personal account and he is free from the threat of prosecution. What’s to stop you disappearing with him and reneging on our deal? Understand this, querida , I’m not letting you out of my sight until my ring is on your finger and our marriage pact sealed.’
    â€˜But I promise I won’t disappear. You have my word,’ Grace assured him desperately, her heart sinking at the determined gleam in his eyes.
    â€˜You are a Beresford, and I’ve learned to my cost that your word means nothing,’ Javier told her scathingly. ‘Anyway, there’s no time to go to England. Today we’re returning to El Castillo de Leon, to prepare for our wedding. There’s a lot to do and little time to make all the necessary arrangements.’
    Grace ran a shaky hand through her hair, struggling to hide her confusion and dismay. ‘What sort of arrangements? Surely we’re just going to do the deed in some brief civil