The villa had been decorated with bouquets of wild flowers from the meadows by the river at his request, for their first night together as man and wife. Her scent had always captivated him and he knew how much she had enjoyed the excursions she made to swim there with Ana.
He was not a romantic man. He did not believe in love and had never been given to romantic gestures, nor was this marriage supposed to be anything more than a means to an end, for both of them. But when he deposited her on her feet and her gaze connected with his—the translucent blue-green of her eyes sheened with surprise and happiness—his heartbeat slowed.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes widening as her gaze swept over the hundreds of candles in glass jars illuminating the profusion of summer blooms. The romantic setting was only enhanced by the heady fragrance of the flowers—and the subtle scent of Cerys, sharpening his hunger for her… Always for her.
‘Santiago, it’s…wonderful.’ Her breath hitched and her eyes twinkled with tears in the candlelight. ‘Thank you. No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me.’
‘How do you know this?’ he asked, her candour, her emotion, suddenly making him feel exposed.
She bit into the full bottom lip he had been yearning to taste all evening, her expression so open and vulnerable and unafraid it scared him a little.
‘I just… I know.’ She pressed a fist to her chest. ‘In here. Does that make sense?’
While it really should not make sense, if he were being entirely rational, somehow it did to him. He had forced himself not to look too closely at why she might have accepted his proposal. But he had always known that her motives were nowhere near as cynical or calculating or selfish as his.
But why would she give herself to him with such passion, and hold nothing back? Was it bravery? Or naivety? Or both.
How could she allow herself to be so trusting when she knew nothing at all of the darkness that lurked inside him?
She blinked, a single tear falling over her lid.
He pressed an unsteady palm to her cheek, her soft skin flushed with heat.
‘Cerys, do not cry,’ he murmured, disturbed now by the way his own heart was punching his ribs. Why had he given in to the impulse to hire a florist and have the villa decorated for their wedding night, when this marriage could never be a love match?
‘I c-can’t help it…’ she sniffed.
He brushed away the single drop with his thumb, then cradled her cheek.
But as he dragged her into his arms, determined not to overthink the impulsive gesture, or her response to it, she pressed shaking palms against his chest, to prevent him from taking what he needed now more than breath.
Her gaze was full of longing and hope—her expression both vulnerable and defenceless—and yet also so fierce.
‘Did you mean it, Santiago?’ she whispered, the tender expression touching the cold, empty corners of his heart which he had relied on for so long to keep him detached, protected, safe. ‘Am I precious to you?’
‘Of course,’ he said instinctively.
But as he drove his hands into her hair, the perfect chignon collapsing under his urgent caresses, the gruff acknowledgement had his heart slamming into his throat.
‘You are mine, Cerys,’ he added, desperate to believe he cherished her for one reason, and one reason only. ‘And I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman.’
He covered her lips, swallowed her soft sob of startled surrender, and proceeded to feast on what was finally his—determined to control the panic and those wayward emotions as ruthlessly as he had controlled so much else in his life.
But as she clung to him and kissed him back, her hunger more than a match for his own, the emotion punched his throat with the force and fury of a sledgehammer.
* * *
This isn’t love, it can’t be… Not yet.
Cerys repeated the words to herself as Santiago devoured her, his furious kiss conquering every sigh, every sob.
He boosted her into his arms again, his large hands caressing her backside, the heavy erection in his trousers rubbing against the hot spot in her panties. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, kissing him back with every fibre of her being. Until the cautious words were swept away on a heady wave of desire. The swell of need gathered pace as she remembered how he had dragged her away from the wedding banquet and then whispered words she had never expected, never even hoped for.
‘You are far too precious for me to risk dropping you.’
The marriage blessing had been terrifying and magical all at once. The only thing tethering her to reality had been Santiago’s solid presence by her side, his gaze filled with passion and purpose as she’d whispered her assent to their union in English then Spanish.
How could this be a mistake, when everything had been so perfect?