Читать книгу The Gold Collection - Ким Лоренс, Maggie Cox - Страница 29

A FEW minutes after Lauren had returned to her room a maid arrived, with a pot of tea and a couple of freshly baked rolls that smelled temptingly good. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten, although she had a vague memory of sipping water from a glass on several occasions while a strong arm supported her head and shoulders.

Had that been Ramon—who, according to the nurse, had spent the last four nights in the chair close to her bed? She frowned when she glanced down at the nightgown she was wearing, and it struck her that someone must have removed her jeans, sweatshirt and underwear. It must have been Cathy, she assured herself, her cheeks growing hot at the idea that Ramon might have undressed her.

She drank two cups of tea and managed half a roll before crossing the room to the en suite bathroom. The sight of her reflection in the mirror was a shock. She couldn’t do much about her hollow cheeks and pale complexion, but at least she could be clean. Stripping off her nightdress, she quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the feel of the spray cleansing her body and the lemony scent of the shampoo that she worked into her hair.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

The sound of a familiar gravelly voice coincided with Ramon’s sudden appearance as he opened the door of the shower cubicle and stood glaring at her. Face flaming, Lauren realised that she would have to reach past him to grab a towel. Instead she frantically tried to cover certain pertinent areas of her body with her hands.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ she snapped.

‘It’s a bit late for modesty now, when I have spent the past few nights sponging your body to try and bring down your fever,’ he said grimly. ‘But at least you’ve finally got some colour in your cheeks.’ He took pity on her and threw her a towel. ‘As to what I’m doing here—I came to check that you had gone back to bed. I might have known you would be stupid enough to try and shower without assistance.’

‘I am not stupid.’ Lauren gave him a furious look. ‘I’m feeling much better, and I don’t need help.’ She refused to admit that her legs felt dangerously unsteady, but of course they chose that minute to give way, so that she would have collapsed onto the floor of the shower if Ramon had not caught her.

‘Of course you don’t,’ he said sardonically as he swept her into his arms and strode into the bedroom. ‘But it’s one thing to cause harm to yourself with your obsessive independence, and quite another when it affects our son.’

‘I never did anything to harm Matty,’ she said sharply. ‘The day nursery he attends is excellent—the staff adore him, and he seems quite happy there.’ It was she who was miserable when she left her baby each morning, and she frequently spent the train journey to work trying to hold back her tears.

She clutched the towel to her when Ramon set her on her feet. He pulled open a drawer in the bedside cabinet and handed her a gossamer-fine peach silk nightgown that definitely did not belong to her.

‘You were so ill when we left your flat that I had to carry you down to the car, and I forgot to pack you any clothes,’ he told her. ‘I’ve ordered new things for Mateo, and a few items for you, but you’ll have to shop for more when you are feeling better.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Lauren said tensely. ‘Matty and I won’t be staying long. You can’t make us stay here,’ she cried, when Ramon’s face hardened.

‘I intend to do what is best for my son,’ he said ominously. ‘Why do you want to uproot him from his home, separate him not just from me but from his grandmother and the extended family he has already bonded with?’

‘His home is in England,’ Lauren choked.

‘But regrettably most of his waking hours are spent in daycare.’

Ramon strolled over to the window, and while his back was turned Lauren hurriedly donned the nightgown, dismayed to find that her hands were trembling. There was a comb on the dressing table and she tugged it through her hair’s wet tangles before blasting it with a hairdryer.

She jumped when Ramon came up behind her, took the dryer and began to run his fingers through her hair to aid the drying process. It was soothing, and evocatively intimate, and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and lean back against him.

‘Does it have to be a battle?’ she pleaded. ‘We both want to do the best thing for Matty. Can’t we come to an amicable agreement on how we should care for him?’

His eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘I think that is possible—as long as we both put Mateo’s needs first.’ He swung her into his arms before she had time to protest, and carried her back over to the bed. ‘You need to rest. You’ve been very ill, and it will be a few days yet before you fully regain your strength.’

‘I want to be with Matty,’ Lauren argued. ‘Who is looking after him?’

‘My mother has taken him for a walk in the gardens.’ Ramon glanced at his watch. ‘If he follows the pattern of the last few days he will fall asleep, and then my dear madre will watch over him like a hawk until he wakes. She is utterly smitten with her new grandson,’ he added dryly.

It was ridiculous to feel jealous of this new woman in Matty’s life, Lauren told herself, but her eyes blurred with tears all the same. ‘I miss him,’ she said thickly.

‘He’s missed you too. The only way we could settle him at night was to lie him beside you in your bed. Once he was asleep I carried him to the nursery.’

Ramon’s jaw tightened. If he had needed proof that his baby son needed his mother, the sight of Mateo curled up against Lauren while his sobs gradually subsided had surely been it. The close bond between mother and son was undeniable—but Mateo needed his father too, and to Ramon’s mind there was only one logical solution that would allow his baby to be brought up by both his parents.

‘I’ll bring Mateo up to see you after his nap.’

He paused and studied Lauren, his eyes drawn to the rounded contours of her breasts and the slightly darker skin of her nipples, visible through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. She had run such a high fever while she had been ill that it had been necessary for him to strip her and sponge her naked body on several occasions. He had done so with clinical efficiency, his libido kept firmly under control. But now she was awake, watching him with her cool grey eyes, he was unbearably tempted to join her on the bed, peel the wisp of peach silk from those creamy breasts and take each rosy nipple in his mouth.

How could he still desire her when she had callously deprived him of his son for almost a year? he asked himself angrily, swinging away to stand by the window in the hope that she would not notice his powerful arousal. When he had first discovered that she had kept Mateo from him he had hated her, but during the days and nights that he had nursed her through her illness his anger had cooled, and he had forced himself to consider his own behaviour.

Lauren had accused him of being a playboy who had only wanted her for sex, and he could not deny the truth of that accusation. During their affair he had never considered a long-term relationship with her. His future had been mapped out: marriage—eventually—to a Spanish woman from his own elite social circle, who would provide him with the next Velaquez heir.

And yet, although he had refused to admit it, Lauren had got to him in a way that none of his numerous previous mistresses ever had.

‘Who is Donny?’ he asked her abruptly.

Lauren gave him a startled glance. ‘He’s my father,’ she said after a moment. ‘His name is Donald. When I was a child I used to call him Donny, instead of Dad, and his pet name for me was Laurie. It was just a silly thing between us.’ She hesitated. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You kept muttering his name when you were ill.’

Lauren had a vague memory of dreaming about her father. He had been walking down the garden path, holding a suitcase. It had been a dream re-enactment of the day that Donald Maitland had walked out on his wife and daughter. She had been crying and tugging on his sleeve, begging him not to leave her. She prayed she hadn’t wept in her sleep. It was embarrassing to think that Ramon might have seen her crying. Impossible to glean anything from his shuttered expression.

So Donny wasn’t her lover. But that wasn’t to say that Lauren did not have a lover back in England, Ramon brooded. The idea of some unknown man staying at her flat, possibly taking on the role of stepfather to Mateo, made him want to smash his fist into the wall.

‘When you found out that you were pregnant you should have told me—for Mateo’s sake,’ he said harshly, unable to control his anger. ‘It would have been far better for him if you had given up your job and been a full time mother. I would have looked after both of you…’

‘I didn’t want your money,’ Lauren said sharply.

‘Perhaps you didn’t, but it would have been in Mateo’s best interests if you had involved me,’ he said inexorably. ‘Because of your selfishness Mateo was denied his father for the first months of his life, and he has spent far too much time in the care of nursery staff when he could have been here with his family.’

Her selfishness! Lauren was struck dumb by Ramon’s accusation. She had been selfless. She had devoted her life to Matty. Did Ramon think she enjoyed leaving her baby every day?

But her conscience prickled with the knowledge that there were some grains of truth in what he had said. Ideally she would have liked to have been with Matty constantly for his first year, but one of the reasons she had not told Ramon he had a son was because of her stubborn pride. He had made it clear that she meant nothing to him, and so she had doggedly chosen to bring Matty up on her own—even though that had meant returning to work when he was only a few months old.

The guilt that had so often racked her when she dropped Mateo at the nursery churned in her stomach now. Ramon had scathingly told her that doing her best for Matty had not been good enough, and although she hated to admit it maybe he had a point?

She suddenly felt desperately tired. A legacy of the flu, she supposed. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked frantically to dispel them. Dealing with Ramon was emotionally draining at the best of times, and they still had to discuss arrangements for sharing custody of their son.

‘I have only ever wanted to do the right thing for Matty,’ she told him thickly.

Ramon moved closer to the bed, and stared down at her with a hard gleam in his eyes that filled Lauren with a sudden sense of foreboding. ‘In that case,’ he said coolly, ‘I assume you have no objection to marrying me?’

‘I assume you’re joking?’ Lauren retorted after a lengthy stunned silence. Anger gripped her. ‘You don’t want to marry me, so don’t try to pretend you do. I didn’t even make it to girlfriend status when we were together. You only ever saw me as your mistress, and the fact that I have given birth to your child is not a good enough reason to tie us down in a relationship neither of us wants. We can both be involved in Matty’s upbringing without some farcical marriage,’ she insisted desperately when Ramon said nothing and simply surveyed her with his dark, unfathomable gaze.

‘How?’ he demanded bluntly.

‘Well…’ Lauren struggled to envisage how it would actually be possible for them both to care for Mateo when they lived in different countries. ‘Maybe you could buy a house in England and he could stay with you when you visit,’ she suggested, instantly disliking the idea that she might have to spend days, even weeks apart from Matty while he was with his father.

‘I have already made it clear that Mateo will live permanently at the Castillo del Toro.’

‘But it would be difficult for me to move to Spain and find a job. I speak Spanish reasonably well, but I am not familiar with the legal system over here. I would probably have to study for a Spanish law degree.’

Ramon shrugged, indicating his indifference to her concerns about her career. ‘As my wife you will not need to work. I will provide you with everything you could possibly need.’

‘I don’t want you to keep me,’ Lauren argued, panic surging up inside her. ‘I’ve worked hard to have a good career, and I value my independence.’ The idea of being reliant on Ramon for money and a home filled her with horror. She had first-hand experience of how those things could be snatched away.

He stared at her speculatively. ‘What do you value most, Lauren? Your independence, or your son? Because you cannot have both,’ he told her, in an implacable tone that made her heart plummet.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she said shakily, her hand trembling as she pushed her hair back from her face. ‘You can’t want to marry me. I’m not a blue-blooded Spanish woman, and I wouldn’t know how to be a duquesa.’

‘It’s true you are not an ideal choice,’ Ramon told her with brutal frankness. ‘But you are the mother of my son, and for his sake I have a duty to marry you so that he can grow up in the care of both his parents.’

Lauren felt as though prison bars were closing around her, trapping her. In desperation she tried another approach. ‘You must see that it would never work. For a start, how would you feel to be married to a woman you don’t love?’

‘Love was never on my agenda,’ he said dismissively. ‘I do not consider it a prerequisite for a successful marriage. We both want to be with our son while he grows up, and I believe we are adult enough to be able to work things out. We were friends once,’ he reminded her. ‘And we proved on the night of the Valentine’s Ball that we are still sexually compatible—wouldn’t you agree, querida?’ he demanded, his voice suddenly so toe-curlingly sexy that Lauren felt a tightening sensation deep in her pelvis.

She snatched a breath when he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and slowly ran his finger down the valley between her breasts. She was instantly agonisingly aware of him—of the distinctive scent of the cologne he always wore, the way his black hair gleamed like silk in the sunlight, and the sensual curve of his mouth that was so tan-talisingly close to her own.

Pride belatedly came to her rescue, and she angrily pushed his hand away. ‘That night was a mistake, and I regret that it ever happened,’ she said shakily.

‘Really?’ he drawled sardonically.

Following his gaze, Lauren saw that her nipples were jutting provocatively against the sheer silk nightdress. Blushing furiously, she yanked the sheet up to her neck. She still felt horribly weak from her illness, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Ramon had been relying on that to bulldoze her into doing what he wanted. But she wasn’t an immature girl, in awe of him, she was a confident career woman and it was vital she took control of the situation.

‘I won’t allow you to intimidate me,’ she told him fiercely, ‘and I am certainly not going to marry you.’

‘Then I hope you are prepared for a custody battle.’

Taking her by surprise, Ramon stood up and strode across the room. He glanced back at her from the doorway.

‘And I hope you are prepared to lose—because I will never give up my son,’ he said grimly, leaving her staring after him, her heart pounding with fear.

After Ramon had gone Lauren leapt out of bed—and then had to steady herself for a few moments as her head swam. The weakness in her limbs was infuriating, and made her realise how unwell she must have been. She had to get Matty away from the castle, she thought frantically. It would be necessary to borrow some of the clothes Ramon had bought her, but she would return them to him the minute she got back to England.

The dresses hanging in the wardrobe were exquisite creations, from a top design house. Lauren made a quick search for her jeans and sweatshirt, feeling reluctant to wear any of the clothes Ramon had provided, but there was no sign of any of her belongings. At last she chose a simple wrap-dress in dove-grey silk, and kitten heel shoes in a matching shade. A drawer in the dresser revealed several sets of beautiful underwear. She had a weakness for pretty knickers and bras, and she slipped them on with guilty pleasure, assuring herself that she would send Ramon a cheque to cover their cost.

Her plan was to find Matty and then call a taxi to take them to the airport. She was sure Ramon would assume that she was resting in her room, and with luck she could escape from the castle before he realised she had gone. But when she stepped out into the long corridor she had no idea which way to go. To her relief, a maid appeared around a corner.

‘Where is Señor Velaquez?’ she asked the young woman, thankful that she spoke Spanish reasonably well. She had picked it up as a child, when her parents had taken her on holiday to Spain every summer, and she had opted to study Spanish rather than French at school.

She had a sudden flashback to her first dinner-date with Ramon, when she had surprised him by speaking to him in his own language. Sherry-brown eyes gleaming wickedly, he had proceeded to teach her several Spanish words and phrases that had definitely not been part of the school curriculum. The sexual chemistry between them had sizzled, and when he had suggested going back to his apartment for a drink she had willingly agreed, knowing that he would make love to her, and impatient to experience the passion his sensual smile promised.

They had shared so many good times during their affair, she thought, her heart aching as memories flooded her mind. It hadn’t just been the amazing sex; they had talked and laughed, visited art galleries, and walked for miles around the London parks. He had made love to her under a weeping willow tree in the middle of a heavy rain shower, and once they had got so carried away while out in a rowing boat on the Serpentine in Hyde Park that they had nearly capsized.

Her steps slowed. Ramon had said he believed they were adult enough to work things out for the sake of their child—but how could she possibly marry him knowing that he would never love her? It was a pathway to certain heartbreak, but so too was a legal battle over Matty—a battle she was not at all sure she would win, she thought bleakly.

‘I want to find my son,’ she told the maid urgently. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘Sí.’ The maid nodded. ‘Follow me and I will take you to him.’

Under different circumstances Lauren would have liked to linger and study the dozens of rooms the maid took her past—rooms with stunning murals on the ceilings and exquisite tapestries on the walls, filled with beautiful antique furniture and even ancient suits of armour. And yet, despite being stuffed with historical artefacts, many of which were undoubtedly very valuable, the castle still felt like a home rather than a museum.

This was Matty’s heritage, she thought as she followed the maid down a magnificent sweeping staircase and across a vast oak-panelled hall hung with portraits of dark, proud looking men whom she guessed were Ramon’s ancestors. The castle and its ancient history were her son’s birthright.

At the far end of the hall stood a set of doors, one of which was slightly ajar, revealing a modern addition to the castle: a beautiful glass conservatory that overlooked the extensive gardens beyond. Sunshine streamed through the windows onto the women and children who were sitting on the sofas or, in the children’s case, sprawled on the floor around a laughing baby boy.

Mateo seemed completely at home amongst all these strangers, Lauren thought bleakly. She guessed that the older, rather regal-looking woman was Ramon’s mother, and the three younger women—one of whom was heavily pregnant—must be his sisters.

She stood behind the half-open door and watched Matty. He was sitting on a rug, surrounded by a group of little girls and boys. The children were teaching him to clap his hands, laughing and chattering in Spanish, and to Lauren’s amazement Matty already seemed to understand them and was grinning happily.

He belonged here. The thought struck her like an arrow through her heart. With his jet black curls and light olive skin he was the image of his cousins, but he shared more than a physical resemblance with them. Matty was a Velaquez—a member of the Spanish nobility. This castle was his rightful home, and these people were his family. How could she take him away, back to her undeniably small flat, to a lifestyle that was far from ideal? She hated leaving him at the nursery all day, but she had believed that she had no choice.

Her choices now were not great, she thought dismally. She could agree to a loveless marriage, give up her job and her independence, and be tolerated here at the castle for no reason other than that she was Matty’s mother. Or she could risk a court battle with Ramon, the outcome of which would at best only give her shared custody of her son, and might conceivably result in Ramon being allowed to keep Matty in Spain while she was awarded the right to visit him only a few times a year.

There was no choice, she acknowledged dully. She would rather die than be separated from her baby.

Five minutes later Ramon found her in the great hall, standing as cold and white as if she had been carved from marble as she watched Mateo and his cousins in the conservatory beyond.

‘You look like death,’ he said sharply when he came up to her. ‘You shouldn’t have come downstairs.’

At last she turned her head to him, and the glisten of tears clinging to her lashes evoked a curious pain in his gut. ‘Lauren…?’

‘You win,’ she said, in a voice as brittle as glass. ‘I can’t take Matty away from here—from his family. But I can’t live without him.’ She swallowed and then went on quickly, before her courage deserted her, ‘And so, for him, I’ll marry you.’

She made it sound as though she was offering herself as a human sacrifice, Ramon thought irritably. Dios, he was a billionaire duque, and from now on she would live a life of luxury. ‘Had you considered that marriage to me might not be the ordeal you seem to think it will?’ he asked curtly. ‘As my wife, you will want for nothing.’

‘How do you know what I want?’ Lauren said quietly. His words tore at her heart, for she would always long for the one thing he could never give her.

Muttering an imprecation, Ramon steered her into his study, strode over to his desk and took something from a drawer. ‘Now that we are formally engaged you will wear this,’ he told her, opening a velvet box to reveal a ring that drew a gasp from Lauren.

It was plainly an antique—an enormous ruby surrounded by a circle of diamonds and another circle of smaller rubies.

‘It’s a monstrosity,’ she muttered, voicing the first thought that entered her head as Ramon took her cold hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a fraction tight over her knuckle, and felt heavy and cumbersome.

‘Only you could describe a ring that was recently valued at a million pounds as a monstrosity,’ Ramon said dryly. ‘For countless generations every Velaquez bride has worn this ring, and my family will expect you to continue the tradition.’

A million pounds! ‘But suppose I lose it?’ Lauren argued as she stared at the huge ring in horror. ‘Ramon, surely there’s no need? It’s not as if we are marrying for conventional reasons. We’re not in love with each other,’ she explained sharply when his dark brows rose quizzically.

‘I doubt that love was a factor in many of my ancestors’ choices of brides,’ he replied laconically. ‘For most marriage was a business arrangement, between high-born families.’

While Lauren brooded on his words he gripped her elbow and led her back out of his study and across the hall, to the doors leading to the conservatory.

‘My mother, however, is under the illusion that ours is a love-match,’ he told her grimly, ‘and I have no intention of shattering her romantic ideals.’

‘Meaning what, exactly?’

Sherry-brown eyes clashed with stormy grey ones. ‘Meaning that in front of my family you will act the part of my love-struck fiancée.’

‘Sorry, but I’m not that good an actress,’ Lauren muttered sarcastically.

‘Perhaps this will help you get into character.’

Ramon’s dark head swooped before she realised his intention, and her startled gasp was lost beneath the hungry pressure of his mouth. She was unprepared for the thrust of his tongue between her lips, and to her shame white-hot, rampant desire swept through her as he explored her with a bold eroticism that left her weak and trembling and clinging to him for support.

She was scarlet-cheeked when Ramon finally broke the kiss, and her embarrassment intensified when she discovered that he had opened the door while he had been kissing her and they were in full view of everyone in the conservatory.

‘Well, Ramon, I hope you are about to announce your engagement and spare all our blushes,’ commented one of the young women in an amused voice.

‘I am,’ Ramon replied, triumph in his voice as he slid his arm around Lauren’s waist and drew her forward. He led her over to the older woman, who stood up from the sofa as they approached. ‘Madre, this is Lauren—the mother of my son and, I am happy to say, soon to be my wife.’

His gentle, loving tone caused Lauren’s steps to falter. It was pathetic to wish that his tender smile was genuine, she told herself angrily. He was only turning on the charm in front of his family. But she could not drag her eyes from his face, and her heart hammered beneath her ribs when he dropped a butterfly-soft kiss on her lips.

‘Lauren—welcome.’ Ramon’s mother spoke in English, and to Lauren’s surprise took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I am Marisol, and these are my daughters: Alissa, Juanita and Valentina—who you might have guessed is expecting twins.’

Marisol Velaquez was tall and elegant, her beauty in no way diminished by the fact that her hair was now pure silver rather than the jet-black of her children and grandchildren. Lauren liked her instantly, and her fear that Ramon’s mother would not approve of him marrying an English woman rather than a member of the Spanish nobility was allayed by the warmth of the older woman’s smile.

‘We are delighted to meet you, Lauren, and so sorry that you have been ill.’ Ramon’s sister Juanita, who had first spoken, now addressed Lauren in perfect English. ‘Ramon explained that you had a high fever. It is fortunate that Mateo did not contract the virus.’ She glanced down at two of the children, who were tickling Matty, making him squeal with laughter. ‘As you can see,’ she said with a smile, ‘his cousins adore him already.’

Lauren was in no doubt that Ramon’s family had taken her son into their hearts—especially his grandmother, she thought heavily, when she noted the soft expression on Marisol Velaquez’s face. She knelt down in front of Matty, her heart aching with love for him. He immediately held out his arms and she hugged him to her, closing her eyes as she breathed in the delicious scent of her baby. He was her life, and she would do anything to be with him—even marry a man who had arrogantly stated that he did not consider love to be a prerequisite for marriage.

It took every ounce of her energy to stand up with Matty in her arms. She was sure he had grown during the past four days when she had been ill. He was certainly heavier, she thought wryly—or perhaps he only felt so because the flu had left her horribly weak.

‘Allow me to take him,’ Ramon’s mother said gently. ‘You are not strong enough yet to hold this fine big baby.’

Silly tears blurred Lauren’s eyes as she handed Matty over to his grandmother. But Marisol was right. Her arms were already aching from the effort of holding him. So much for her earlier plan to snatch him and take him from the castle, she thought miserably.

‘Come—it’s time you were back in bed,’ Ramon told her, sweeping her into his arms and ignoring her protest. ‘The sooner you are fully recovered, the sooner I can make you my wife,’ he added, with a mocking gleam in his eyes that made Lauren itch to slap him.

‘I can walk,’ she told him furiously as he strode out of the conservatory and across the hall. ‘Your family can’t see us now, and there’s no need to act the part of loving fiancé on my account. Unlike your mother, I’m under no illusions about you.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said evenly, ‘but you’ve had the good sense to agree to marry me to keep your son, and for Mateo’s sake it will be better if we end hostilities and try to be friends.’

Lauren seethed silently while he carried her up the stairs and along various corridors until they reached her room. ‘How can you expect friendship from me when you have blackmailed me into marriage?’ she demanded bitterly when he set her on her feet. ‘You have callously used my love for Matty to get your own way.’

‘I have done what is best for our son,’ he countered inexorably. ‘Mateo needs both of us.’

Before Lauren had time to react, he spun her round and unzipped her dress.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She tried to bat his hands away but he ignored her and tugged the dress over her hips so that it slithered to the floor.

‘You look even better in that underwear than I visualised when I chose it,’ he drawled, the sudden heat in his gaze scorching her skin as he turned her back to face him and rested his eyes deliberately on her breasts.

To Lauren’s shame her nipples instantly hardened and strained against the sheer lace bra cups, and she closed her eyes to shut out his mocking smile. ‘The wedding will be very soon, querida,’ he murmured. ‘The best place for you to recuperate from your illness is in my bed.’

He only had to look at her and she was on fire for him, she thought despairingly. Her breasts felt heavy, and a tremor ran through her when he placed his hands on either side of her waist. She lifted her head blindly, thinking that he was going to kiss her, but her eyes flew open in shock when he drew back the covers and pushed her gently into bed.

‘I’m glad you share my impatience,’ he said in an amused voice, ‘but you are not nearly strong enough yet for what I have in mind.’

‘I hate you,’ Lauren muttered grittily, burning up with mortification. She jerked her head to one side when he leaned over her, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him as he swooped and captured her mouth in a punishing kiss intent on proving his mastery.

She should resist him. Her brain knew it, but unfortunately her body did not agree. Molten heat coursed through her veins, and her limbs shook with need as he lowered his body onto hers. His tongue probed the tight line of her lips until with a moan she parted them so that he could delve into her moist warmth. She did not want to want him, and bitterly resented his power over her, but like it or not she was racked with hot, urgent desire, and with a low moan she cupped his face and kissed him with a fierce passion that she could not deny.

‘I love the way you hate, querida,’ Ramon drawled when he finally broke the kiss and they both dragged oxygen into their lungs. He got up from the bed and watched dispassionately as she dragged the sheet over her half-naked body. ‘Blackmail is an ugly word. I may have coerced you into marrying me, for our son’s sake, but however much I desire you I would never force you to share my bed. Fortunately I won’t have to—will I, Lauren?’

She gave him a furious glare. ‘Don’t sulk,’ he chided. ‘Passion is as good a basis for marriage as any other—particularly when combined with our mutual desire to do the best for Mateo. What else is there to wish for?’

Love! Lauren wanted to cry. She wanted him to love her as she had loved him practically since the day she met him. But at this particular moment she felt so angry with him for demonstrating his power over her that she longed to throw a heavy object at his head.

‘Get out,’ she snapped, goaded beyond bearing by his arrogant smile.

‘That’s no way to talk to the man you are soon going to promise to honour with your body.’

Ramon wondered if Lauren had any idea how tempted he was to strip out of his clothes and bury his burgeoning arousal between her satin-soft thighs. Only the purple smudges beneath her eyes and the faint tremor of her mouth prevented him from joining her on the bed and making love to her until she accepted that marrying him was not just the right thing to do for their child, but for them too.

He drew the bedcovers over her as he saw that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. He had told himself that he hated her for hiding his son from him, but he had been lying, he thought bleakly. He did not understand why she had done what she had, and he was still furious with her, but she was the mother of his child and Mateo would always be a special link between them. Deep in his heart, and for reasons he chose not to define, he was glad he had a reason to make Lauren his wife—and he couldn’t give a damn that she was not the aristocratic bride his family had expected him to choose.

‘Trust me, querida,’ he said with sudden urgency. ‘I believe we can make our marriage work.’

Something in his voice brought tears to Lauren’s eyes, and she turned her head slightly on the pillow so that he would not see them. ‘I don’t find it easy to trust,’ she admitted thickly, losing the battle with the waves of sleep that were pulling her under.

Had something happened in her past which had caused her to value her independence so highly and made it hard for her to trust? Ramon brooded as he stood by the bed and looked down at her. There was so much he did not know about her, for during their affair he had deliberately not involved himself in her personal life. Maintaining that distance between them had made him feel he was in control of their relationship, but now she was to be his wife he could allow himself to lower his barriers. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to persuade her to lower hers.