Читать книгу Spanish Escape - Maisey Yates, Carol Marinelli - Страница 17

CHAPTER NINE

RAÚL HAD BEEN RIGHT.

Estelle stood on the balcony of his luxurious apartment, looking out at the marina, on the morning of her wedding day, and was, as Raúl had predicted, utterly and completely overwhelmed.

She had arrived in Marbella two days ago and had barely stopped for air since. Stepping into this vast apartment, she had fully glimpsed his wealth. Every room bar the movie screening room was angled to take in the stunning view of the Mediterranean, and every whim was catered for from Jacuzzi to sauna. There was a whole new wardrobe waiting for her too. The only thing lacking was that the kitchen cupboards and fridge were empty.

‘Call Sol’s if you don’t want to go out,’ Raúl had said. ‘They will bring whatever you want straight over.’

The only vaguely familiar thing had been the photo of them both, taken at Donald’s wedding, beautifully framed and on a wall. But even that had been dealt with by Raúl. It had been manipulated so that her make-up was softer, her cleavage less revealing.

It had been a sharp reminder that he thought her a tart.

Raúl knew the woman he wanted to marry, and it wasn’t the woman he had met, so there had been trips to a beauty salon for hair treatments and make-up lessons.

‘I don’t need make-up lessons,’ Estelle had said.

‘Oh, baby, you do,’ had been his response. ‘Subtle is best.’

Constantly she had to remind herself to be the woman he thought he had met. A woman who acted as if delighted by her new designer wardrobe, who didn’t mind at all when he told her to wear factor fifty-plus because he liked her pale skin.

But it wasn’t that which concerned Estelle this morning as she looked out at the glittering sea and the luxurious yachts, wondering which one was Raúl’s.

Tonight she would be on his yacht.

This night they would be sharing a bed.

Estelle wasn’t sure if she was more terrified of losing her virginity, or of him finding out that she had never slept with anyone before.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice, she thought helplessly. But she knew she didn’t have a hope of delivering to his bed the sexually experienced woman that Raúl was expecting. Last night, before heading off with his sponsors for his final night as a single man, Raúl had kissed her slowly and deeply. The message his tongue had delivered had been an explicit one.

‘Why do you make me wait?’

Tonight he would find out why.

‘You have a phone call.’ Rosa, his housekeeper, brought the phone up to the balcony. It was Amanda on the line.

‘How are you doing?’ Amanda asked.

‘I’m petrified.’ It was nice to be honest.

‘All brides are,’ Amanda said. ‘But Raúl will take good care of you.’

He had utterly and completely charmed Amanda, but had not quite won over Andrew.

‘I am not letting her go again.’ He had looked Andrew straight in the eye as he said it. ‘If I move Estelle to Spain I want to make a proper commitment. That is why she will come to be my wife.’

So easily he had lied.

Estelle knew she must remember that fact.

‘How did the dress turn out?’ Amanda asked.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Estelle said. ‘Even better than I imagined it would be.’

It was the only thing Estelle had been allowed to organise. It had all be done online and by phone, and the final adjustments made when she had arrived.

‘How is Cecelia?’ Estelle asked, desperate for news of her niece.

‘She’s still asleep.’

It was nine a.m. in Spain, which meant it was eight a.m. in the UK. Cecelia had always been an early riser. More and more she slept these days, though Amanda always did her best to be upbeat.

‘I’m going to dress her up for the wedding and take a photo and send it. Even if we can’t be there today, know that we’re thinking of you.’

‘I know.’

‘And I’m not your sister, but I do think of you as one.’

‘Thank you,’ Estelle said, her eyes welling up. ‘I think of you as a sister too.’

They weren’t idle words; many hours had been spent in hospital waiting rooms this past year.

‘Is that the door?’ Amanda asked.

‘Yes. Don’t worry, someone else will get it.’

‘Do you have a butler?’

‘No!’ Estelle laughed, swallowing down her tears. ‘Just Raúl’s housekeeper. Though it’s going to start to get busy soon, with the hairdresser…’ She turned around as she heard her name being called, and Estelle’s jaw dropped as she saw her brother coming through the door.

‘Andrew!’

‘Is that where he’s got to?’ Amanda laughed, and then she was serious. ‘I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be with you today—I’d have given anything. But with Cecelia…’

‘Thank you,’ Estelle said, and promptly burst into tears, all her pent-up nerves released.

‘I think she’s pleased to see me,’ Andrew said, taking the phone and chatting to Amanda briefly before hanging up.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Estelle admitted.

‘Raúl said he thought you might need someone today, and of course I wanted to give you away. If anything happens with Cecelia he’s assured me I’ll be able to get straight back.’

She couldn’t believe that Raúl would do this for her. Until now she hadn’t fully realised how terrifying today was, how real it felt.

Raúl had.

‘When did you get in?’

‘Last night,’ Andrew said. ‘We went to Sol’s.’

‘You were out with Raúl?’

‘He certainly knows how to party.’ Andrew smiled. ‘I’d forgotten how.’

Even if she was doing all this for her brother and his wife, of the many benefits of marrying Raúl, this was one Estelle had not even considered—that her brother, who was still having trouble accepting the diagnosis that he would never walk again, who had, apart from job interviews and hospital appointments, become almost reclusive, would fly not just to Spain but so far out of his comfort zone.

It was a huge and important step, and it was thanks to Raúl that he was here.

‘I’ve got something for you.’

Estelle bit her lip, hoping they hadn’t spent money they didn’t have on a gift for a wedding that wasn’t real.

‘Remember these?’ Andrew said as she opened the box. ‘These’ were small diamond studs that had belonged to her mother. ‘Dad bought them for her for their wedding day.’

She had never felt more of a fraud.

‘Enough tears,’ Andrew said. ‘Let’s get this wedding underway.’

* * *

Raúl was rarely nervous, but as he stood at the altar and waited for Estelle, to his own surprise, he was.

His father had almost bought their story, and Raul’s future with the company was secure, but instead of a gloating satisfaction that his plans were falling into place today he thought only of the reasons he had had to go to these lengths.

His head turned briefly and he caught a glimpse of Angela in the middle of the church. She was seated with his father, as ever-present PA. His mother’s family were still unaware of the real role she played in his father’s life—and the role she had played in his mother’s death.

He stared ahead, anger churning in his gut that Angela had the gall to be here. He wouldn’t put it past her to bring her bastard son.

Then he heard the murmur of the congregation and Raúl turned around. The churning faded. Just one thought was now in his mind.

She looked beautiful.

He had wondered how Estelle might look—had worried that, left to her own devices, a powder-puff ball would be wobbling towards him on glittery platform shoes, smiling from ruby-red lips.

He had not—could not have—imagined this.

Her dress was cream and made of intricate Spanish lace. It was fitted, and showing her curves, but in the most elegant of ways. The neckline was a simple halter neck. She carried orange blossom, as was the tradition for Spanish brides, and her lipstick was a pale coral.

‘Te ves bella.’ He told her that she looked beautiful as she joined him, and he meant every word. Not one thing would he change, from her black hair, piled high up on her head, to the simple diamond earrings and elegant cream shoes. She was visibly shaking, and he made a small joke to relax her. ‘Your sewing is terrible.’

She glanced at his shirt and they shared a smile. With so little history, still they found a piece now, at the altar—as per tradition, the bride-to-be must embroider her groom’s shirt.

‘I’m not marrying a billionaire to sit sewing!’ she had said teasingly, and Raúl had laughed, explaining that most women did not embroider all of the front of the shirt these days. Only a small area would be left for her, and Estelle could put on it whatever she wanted.

He had half expected a € but had frowned this morning when he had put on his shirt to find a small pineapple. Raúl still couldn’t work out what it meant, but it was nice to see her relax and smile as the service started.

They knelt together, and as the service moved along he explained things in his low, deep voice, heard only by her.

‘El lazo,’ he said as a loop of satin decorated with orange blossom was placed over his shoulders and then another loop from the same piece was placed over hers. The priest spoke then for a moment, in broken English, and Estelle’s cheeks burnt red as he told them that the rope that bound them showed that they shared the responsibility for this marriage. It would remain for the rest of the ceremony.

But not for life.

She felt like a fraud. She was a fraud, Estelle thought, panic starting to build. But Raúl took her hand and she looked into his black eyes. He seemed to sense that she was suddenly struggling.

‘He asks now that you hand him the Arras,’ Raúl said and she handed over the small purse he had given her on arrival. It contained thirteen coins, he had explained, and it showed his financial commitment to her.

It was the only honest part of the service, Estelle thought as the priest blessed them and handed it back to her.

Except it felt real.

‘It’s okay,’ he said to her. ‘We are here in this together.’

It felt far safer than being in it alone.

The service ended and an attendant removed the satin rope and presented it to Estelle; then they walked out to cheers and petals and rice being thrown at them. Raúl’s hand was hot on her waist, and he gripped her tighter when she nearly shot out of her dress at the sound of an explosion.

‘It’s firecrackers,’ Raúl said. ‘Sorry I forgot to warn you.’

And there would be firecrackers later too, Estelle thought, when they got to bed and she told him the truth! But it was far too late now to warn him.

* * *

It really was a wonderful wedding.

As Raúl had told her on the night they had met, there were no speeches; instead it was an endless feast, with dancing and celebration and congratulations from all.

She met Paola and Carlos, Raúl’s aunt and uncle, and they spoke of Raúl’s mother, Gabriella.

‘She would be so proud to be here today,’ Paola said. ‘Wouldn’t she, Antonio?’

Estelle saw how friendly they were with Raúl’s father, and also with Angela, who was naturally seated with them. No longer were they names, but faces, and a shiver went down her arms as she imagined their reaction when the truth came out.

‘My son has excellent taste.’ Antonio kissed her on the cheek.

Estelle had met him very briefly the day before, and Raúl had handled most of the questions—though both had seen the doubt in his eyes as to whether this union was real.

It was slowly fading.

‘It is good to see my son looking so happy.’

He did look happy.

Raúl smiled at her as they danced their first dance as husband and wife, with the room watching on.

‘Remember our first dance?’ Raúl smiled.

‘Well, we shan’t be repeating that tonight.’

‘Not till later.’ Raúl gazed down, saw her burning cheeks, and mistook it for arousal.

He could never have guessed her fear.

‘I ache to be inside you.’

Other couples had joined them. The music was low and sensual and it seemed to beat low in her stomach. His hand dusted her bare arm and she shivered at the thought of what was to come, wondered if those eyes, soft now with lust and affection, would darken in anger.

‘Raúl…’ Surely here was not the place to tell him, but it felt better with people around them rather than being alone. ‘I’m nervous about tonight.’

‘Why would you be nervous?’ he asked. ‘I will take good care of you.’

He would, Raúl decided. He was rarely excited at the thought of monogamy but he actually wanted to take care of her, could not stand to think of what she might have put her body through. There was a surge of protectiveness that shot through him then, and his arms tightened around her. He could feel her tension and nervousness and again he wanted to make her smile.

‘Can I ask why,’ he whispered into her ear as they danced, ‘you embroidered a pineapple on my shirt?’

‘It’s a thistle!’

A smile spread on her lips and he felt her relax a little in his arms.

‘For Scotland.’

Raúl found himself smiling too. ‘All day I have been trying to work out the significance of a pineapple.’

She started to laugh and Raúl found himself laughing a little too.

He lowered his head and kissed her lightly.

It was expected, of course. What groom would not kiss his bride?

Many times since he had put his proposition to her Estelle had had doubts—the morality of it, the feasibility of it, the logistics—but as he kissed her, as she felt his warm lips and the soft caress of his hand near the base of her spine, true doubt as to her ability to go through with the deal surfaced. For once it had nothing to do with her hymen. She was suddenly more worried about her heart.

It was the music. It was the moment. It was having her brother here. It was Raúl’s kiss. All these things, she told herself, were the reasons she felt as she did—as if this were real…as if this were love.

Estelle excused herself a little while later and went to the bathroom, just so she might collect herself, but brides could not easily hide on their wedding day.

‘Estelle?’ She turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. ‘I am Angela—Raúl’s father’s PA.’

‘Raúl has spoken about you,’ Estelle responded carefully.

‘I’m sure what he had to say was not very flattering.’ There were tears in the older woman’s eyes. ‘Estelle, I don’t know what to believe…’

‘Excuse me?’

‘About this sudden marriage.’ Angela was being as up-front with Estelle as she was with Raúl. ‘I do know, though, that Raúl seems the happiest I have seen him. If you do love your husband…’

‘If?’

‘I apologise,’ Angela said. ‘Given that you surely love your husband, I ask this not for me, and not even for Antonio’s sake. Whatever Raúl thinks of me, I care for him. I want him to come and visit us. I want us to be a family, even for a little while.’

‘You could have had that years ago.’ Estelle answered as she hoped Raúl would expect his loyal wife to.

‘I want him to make peace with his father while there is still time. I don’t want him to have any guilt when his father passes. I know how much guilt he has over his mother.’

Estelle blinked, unsure how to respond because there was so much she didn’t know about Raúl. What did he have to feel guilty about? Raúl had been a child, after all. He had agreed to tell her more on their honeymoon—had said that he would be the one to deal with any questions tonight.

‘I have always loved Raúl. I have always thought of him as a son.’

‘So why did you leave it so late to tell him?’ Perhaps it was the emotion of the day, but the tears that flashed in Estelle’s eyes were real. ‘If you cared so much for him—’

Estelle halted. It wasn’t her place to ask, and Raúl certainly wouldn’t thank her for delving. She was here to ensure his father left his share of the business to him, that was all. She would do well to remember that.

‘I do care,’ Angela responded. ‘Whatever Raúl thinks of me, from a distance I have loved him as a son.’

‘From a distance?’ Estelle repeated, making the bitter point.

Turning on her heel, she walked out and straight into Raúl’s arms.

‘She wanted to speak about you,’ Estelle told him. ‘I don’t know how well I handled it.’

‘We’ll discuss it later,’ Raúl said, for he had seen Angela follow her in. ‘Now we have to hand out the favours.’

It really was an amazing party, and for reasons of her own Estelle didn’t particularly want it to end.

As per tradition, the bride and groom had to see off all their guests and be the last to leave. Antonio tired first, and she felt the grip of Raúl’s hand tighten on hers as his father left with his loyal PA.

‘It’s been great,’ Andrew said as he prepared to head back to the hotel he was staying in. ‘Once Cecelia is well, and I’m working, I’m going to bring Amanda and Cecelia here for a holiday, to visit you.’

‘You do that,’ Estelle said, and bent down and gave her brother a cuddle, then stood as Raúl shook his hand.

‘Look after my sister.’

‘You do not have to worry about that.’

‘Have a great honeymoon.’

A driver sorted out the wheelchair and they waved Andrew off and then headed back inside.

Apart from the staff it was just Raúl and Estelle now, and still the music went on as they danced their last dance of the night.

‘It really helped having Andrew here.’ Her hands were round the back of his neck, he held her hips, and she would give anything not to disappoint him tonight—anything to be the experienced lover he assumed she was.

‘I thought it might.’

‘It didn’t just help me,’ Estelle admitted, and started to tell him about how Andrew’s confidence had been lacking.

But he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. ‘Enough about others.’

Estelle swallowed. She could feel his fingers exploring the halter neck, his other hand running down the row of tiny buttons that ran to the base of her spine, and she knew he was planning his movements, undressing her slowly in his mind as they danced.

‘Raúl…’ His mouth was working over her bare shoulder, kissing it deeply; she could feel the soft suction, feel the heat of his tongue and his ardour building. ‘I’ve never slept with anyone before.’

He moaned into her shoulder and pulled her tighter into him, so she could feel every inch of the turn-on he thought she was giving him.

‘I mean it.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘You’ll be my first.’

‘Come on, then.’ His mouth was now at her ear. ‘Let’s go and play virgins.’