The Spaniard's Stolen Bride

“No,” he said, his voice dark and decisive.

“He’s going to come for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere that he will be able to trace us. My brother and I are not close. Believe me when I tell you he has no idea of all the residences I own. Nor the aliases they are listed under.”

“Aliases...”

“What did you think of me, tesoro? That I was simply misunderstood? And that was why I was the black sheep of the Navarro family? No. I am not misunderstood. Not in the least. In point of fact, I am rather well understood. I’m not a good man.”

“That is not...overly comforting, considering I’m now hurtling through the air with you.”

“It was not intended to be a comfort. I’m simply making sure that you are aware of the position you find yourself in.”

“What position is that?”

“You’re going to marry me now, Liliana.”

Something hot and reckless jolted through her, a lot like fear, but with a hard edge to it that thrilled her as much as it repelled her.

“You can’t just... How can you possibly think that I would agree to that?”

“Don’t be silly, tesoro. I have all the ammunition I could possibly want. Did you honestly think I would go to all this trouble without hedging my bets? I was not counting on my charm to sway you.”

If only he knew. Before this moment, he could have climbed through the window and seduced her, likely so easily it would be humiliating.

She had never kissed a man. Not truly. The chaste exchanges she’d had with Matías were nothing like a real kiss, and the idea of Diego’s lips kept her awake at night.

Indeed, they had been keeping her awake this very night. And he had no idea. Of course not.

But now... Now she was seeing him in a slightly different light.

She looked at him, his face cast in sharp relief by the glow of the control panel in front of him. High, hard-cut cheekbones, a cruel, sculpted mouth, nose straight like a blade.

Oh, dear heaven, she was no less attracted to him now than she had been before. There was perhaps something wrong with her. And she wasn’t entirely certain there was anything that could be done about it. She wasn’t entirely certain there was anything she would want to do about it. Because she had never felt anything like this. Nothing quite so dangerous, nothing quite so exhilarating. Her life had been lived entirely to please her father. Entirely to live up to the memory of her mother.

Lusting for dark and dangerous men fit nowhere in that. But Diego had swept into her father’s house like an undeniable force. Indeed, he had swept into her bedroom tonight like one as well. And at the moment there was nothing she could do.

She was being whisked away, after all. She could hardly leap from the helicopter.

And the fact that he made her stomach sink, made it swoop like a butterfly whose wings had been torn, one that was falling out of the sky, toward its inevitable demise... Well, right now there was nothing she could do about that.

“If you truly wanted to marry me, you could have spoken to my father,” she said, her voice small.

“You don’t understand,” Diego said. “I must prevent my brother from marrying you.” He turned to face her for a moment, his lip curled into a sneer. “If he marries you, then he gains the inheritance of the ranch. I want you, and I want the rancho. My marriage ensures that I get it. And that is why you must marry me. The fact that I have fantasies of tearing that virginal nightgown from your body is only a bonus.”

His words rolled over her like a poison. He didn’t want her, not really. He didn’t want to marry her because he had any finer feelings for her. He wanted to marry her because of an inheritance.

Matías wanted to use her as well, wanted to use her to forge an alliance with her father, and apparently, to get an inheritance. But that didn’t bother her. Because when it came to Matías, she had only been following her father’s orders.

Her feelings for Diego had nothing to do with orders.

“If my brother has had you, that makes no difference to me. In fact, I shall take a great joy in wiping your memory of him from your mind.”

She realized what he meant, though it took a moment, and shock rolled over her.

She had not been with Matías. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She didn’t know why, but for the moment it felt like a small bit of power.

He said that he didn’t care, but the fact he had mentioned it made her think that perhaps he did.

And so she said nothing. She simply sat with her hands folded, staring straight ahead into the darkness as she was taken further and further away from any kind of certainty and deeper into this madness of Diego’s making.

CHAPTER THREE (#u8892137c-27e9-53cb-b243-b2688dd1931e)

DIEGO WATCHED HIS captive closely as they walked from the helicopter toward his home. If she was expecting that there would be anyone here who might become sympathetic to her plight and offer her assistance, she would be sadly mistaken. He had taken pains to clear his house of all the usual staff, leaving it stocked with everything they would need to get through the next period of time without drawing attention to them.

He paused at the beginning of the walkway that led up to the old manor that looked near consumed by ivy where it was pressed deep into a rocky hillside.

He extended his gloved hand, and she took it, and he could feel her delicate fingers, could feel the heat of her body through the black leather.

He felt a bit like Hades, leading Persephone down into the underworld.

Some men might be consumed with guilt at that easy comparison. The idea that they might be the devil himself.

Diego suffered from no such guilt.

Diego did not suffer from a conscience at all.

Liliana was silent, and she looked like a very small ghost shrouded in her white nightgown, her pale hair blowing in the breeze.

“Where are we?”

“On a private island,” he said. “Near enough to Spain, but far enough as well. This is mine. And no, my brother does not know.”

“It’s... It looks rather English.”

“The English like Spain,” he said. “At least, they like to get drunk in Spain.”

“Is that what you like about Spain?”

“I am Spanish, querida.”

“Of course,” she said, her cheeks coloring slightly.

How funny that she could be embarrassed over making a faux pas with him. Her kidnapper. How charming that she would care at all.

“I take that as a compliment on the proficiency of my English,” he said. His lips curved into a smile. “But not as much of a compliment on my character.”

“Were you looking for compliments on your character, Diego? Because if so, you might have stopped short of the kidnapping.”