8 Brand-New Romance Authors. Avril Tremayne
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eyes glittered dangerously but she refused to be intimidated, refused to back down.
‘Not when you’ve led me on, driven me wild with need for you since the night of the party.’
‘I did not lead you on.’ Indignation flared to life in her and she almost stamped her foot in frustration.
* * *
Santos knew he was losing his patience, reaching the boiling point that very few people managed to push him to. All he wanted was to prevent her from leaving. He needed her, yes, but he wanted her more.
‘So what was our wedding night if not to divert my attention and keep me out of the way?’
She gasped at him, a blush creeping over her cheeks, and she looked as if she was struggling for words.
‘You must have been delighted when I took you to the yacht. What better place to keep me out of the way?’ Humiliation burned through him like a forest fire. He’d been used, played for a fool, and it wounded him even more to think that he’d relaxed. He’d wanted to open up to her, wanted to be who he really was, when all along she’d been as fake as snow in the desert. ‘You flirted yourself at me in an attempt to stay longer on the yacht.’
Her brow furrowed and pain and confusion swirled in her eyes. For a moment he wanted to reach for her, wanted to kiss it all away. But kissing had got him into this mess. Kissing and much more had left him emotionally exposed and vulnerable.
‘If that’s what you think, Santos, it would be much better if you just let me go home. Alone.’ Her words were firm and devoid of any emotion.
‘That,’ he snapped, instantly reining himself back, ‘is not negotiable. You will stay here with me now I know where Carlo and Emma are.’
‘Where they are?’ She spoke rapidly, shock sounding in her tone. ‘You mean they’re not in London?’
Was it possible he’d got it all wrong? That she’d known nothing of their marriage plans?
He moved away from her—away from the intensity of her eyes and the questions deep within them. Maybe sending her back to London alone would be for the best, enable him to think clearly. Because his need for her had increased since they’d spent the night together and each time she came close his body remembered, even if his mind refused to acknowledge what he was beginning to feel for her.
‘Perhaps you can tell me.’ He tossed the words across the terrace as he made his way back inside the villa. ‘You can explain everything to me on our way out this evening.’
‘There’s only one place I’m going this evening and that’s the airport—with or without your help.’ He knew she had followed him inside. He could feel her, sense her.
He sat down on the sofa, stretching his arm along the back of the black leather, and watched as she stood, fury blazing from her, in the centre of the room. A smile twitched the corners of his lips despite the bitter taste of humiliation. She looked stunningly sexy, a little fireball of passion.
‘Tonight we are expected at a party my cousin has arranged for us and I have no intention of arriving without my bride.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Santos, but your bride is leaving. Right now.’
He clenched his jaw as his mind raced. ‘You can’t. You signed the agreement. You have legally agreed to live as my wife for twelve months.’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘I don’t believe you actually put that in. You’re barbaric.’
‘I need an heir, Georgina.’
Right there in front of him she seemed to deflate. All the fire and fury drained from her and he sat forward, his elbows on his knees. Was she actually going to faint?
‘I can’t give you what you want.’
The anguish in her voice alarmed him and he leapt up and stood before her.
‘I can’t have a baby—I can’t.’
Can’t have a baby.
He hadn’t considered this. He’d assumed that, like almost every woman, she’d want to become a mother.
‘Why not?’
This threw everything into turmoil. If Carlo and Emma returned from Vegas as parents-to-be he would have lost everything—exactly what he’d promised his mother he’d never do the last time he saw her. Although he still didn’t know what kind of misguided loyalty made him want to keep that promise.
Large tears welled up in Georgina’s eyes. One broke free and ran down her cheek. Santos didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t considered the possibility that she couldn’t have children. She’d been so adamant that she’d do anything to enable her sister to marry. He’d seen her as a viable back-up plan—a marriage of convenience to a woman who would be the mother of his child, should that drastic step be needed.
‘I can’t...I just can’t,’ she croaked in a whisper, tugging at something deep inside him so much that he wanted to hold her close, to soothe her.
Instead he clenched his hands into fists and marched away from her. ‘This changes nothing. You are my wife. You agreed to it for one year and I’m not going to allow you to publicly humiliate me any further. I don’t need my wife deserting me within days of our supposed whirlwind romance. It’s bad enough that Carlo and Emma have run off to Vegas...’
‘Vegas?’ Incredulity made her tear-laden eyes widen and he steeled himself against the need to hold her.
‘As if you didn’t know.’
Attack was the only way he could control the myriad of strange new emotions running riot inside him. He wanted her with him, yet he didn’t. Above all he wanted to punish her for her part in deceiving him, but even he wasn’t so callous that in the face of what she’d just told him he’d actually do that.
* * *
Vegas. Emma had gone to Las Vegas to get married.
‘I didn’t know,’ Georgina whispered, betrayal rushing through her.
They must have planned it for weeks. Why hadn’t Emma said something? Taken her into her confidence?
He took her hand, his mood softened. ‘It seems we are both victims of their deception.’
His deep voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine, but she remained firm and resolute, not trusting him.
‘Have you spoken to Carlo?’ She pulled back, watching his face as she asked the question.
‘No, but the gossip columns are full of it. When we left for Spain they must have gone straight to Vegas. They must have left as soon as we’d left the party. Damn it, they knew all along.’
He let go of her as his frustration built again and she felt strangely alone. The touch of his hand had been grounding, somehow. He blamed her for what Emma and Carlo had done, that much was obvious, yet still she wanted his comfort, wanted to feel his arms around her.
If she was going to survive the next few days she had to push her emotions right to the back of her mind—had to ignore them before they exposed her to the biggest pain of all. One thing she was sure of: she couldn’t remain his wife for a year—not if it meant living with him.
Twice in her life she had trusted and loved a man and twice he had let her down. Her father, whom she’d adored, had walked away one stormy night without a backward glance, leaving her in tears, clinging to the front door. Then Richard, whom she’d loved in a gentle, appreciative way, had left her alone in the world—more alone than she cared to admit.
Now Santos.
She’d fallen in love with him so passionately and deeply she couldn’t even think properly any more. Her usual unemotional demeanour was smashed into icy crumbs.
‘Emma would