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

service? It’s hardly going to be a fairy-tale wedding.’
    â€˜Naturally the marriage of the Duque de Herrera is an important event,’ Javier informed her haughtily. ‘My staff have been instructed to cater for several hundred guests, including many members of Spanish nobility. The service will take place in the castle chapel, and I am impatient to return to Granada to oversee the arrangements.’ He took a pair of trousers from a hanger and spared her a brief glance. ‘Before we leave I have organised for one of Madrid’s top designers to measure you for your wedding dress. She’ll be here soon. I suggest you go and put something on, unless you intend to greet her in your underwear.’ His brows rose fractionally and he gave her a cool smile. ‘Although personally I have no objection to your state of undress, querida .’
    Oh, she’d like to have slapped that insolent smile from his face. For a few seconds Grace’s anger rendered her speechless, but then she remembered her father and her heart lurched. Somehow she had to get through to Javier. ‘How do you think Angus will feel when he reads about our so-called relationship in the papers?’ she whispered.
    â€˜I imagine he’ll think you’ve been a very clever girl. He obviously sent you to the castillo to try and entice me into helping him, and instead you’ve hit the jackpot—marriage to a millionaire who’ll wipe his slate clean.’
    The contempt in his tone made her want to shrivel. ‘Dad had no idea that I…approached you,’ Grace said sharply. ‘And he would be appalled if he knew what I was doing. He’d do anything in his power to try and stop me.’
    â€˜Then it’s lucky you won’t have an opportunity to see him until the ink on our wedding certificate is well and truly dry. You’re in too deep to back out now, Grace,’ he warned her harshly. ‘I swear I’ll get you down the aisle even if I have to drag you.’ He flicked an impatient glance at his watch. ‘Time’s getting on and I want to get dressed.’
    â€˜Javier, please listen to me…’ Grace stumbled towards him and then gasped when his hands moved to unwind the towel from around his waist. ‘What are you doing?’
    â€˜Putting some clothes on,’ came the succinct reply. ‘You can watch if you like.’
    With a cry of frustration mixed with scalding embarrassment, Grace shot out of the room and slammed the door, his laughter following her all the way back to her own room. She hated him, she told her reflection as she pulled on jeans and a tee shirt and brushed the tears from her eyes. He was hard and ruthless and utterly unforgiving, but for a whole year he would be her husband.
    Without her passport she was trapped, escape seemed impossible. For a few seconds the same feeling of dread that had filled her when she’d first discovered the extent of her father’s financial troubles threatened to overwhelm her. She should never have gone within a hundred-mile radius of Javier Herrera, but it was too late to turn back now.

    When Grace finally emerged from her room after a good cry, she found Javier in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar and reading the paper.
    â€˜There’s coffee in the pot, or fruit juice if you prefer,’ he greeted her coolly, his sharp-eyed scrutiny noting her pink-rimmed eyes. ‘What would you like to eat?’
    â€˜I’m not hungry, thanks.’ Grace carefully avoided looking at him and concentrated on pouring a glass of orange juice.
    â€˜You barely touched your meal last night—don’t think I didn’t notice. You need to eat.’
    â€˜I told you, I’m not hungry—I rarely eat breakfast.’ This time her tone was sharper although she still refused to look at him. She hauled herself onto one of the tall bar stools and perched there, looking small and