Valdez's Bartered Bride

‘Do you always talk over people?’ His question stopped her as she was about to leave for the second time and she looked down at him, stunned into silence, and the elusive sensation of being in control slipped further away with each erratic heartbeat. From the moment he’d arrived and their eyes had met, she’d lost that control.

* * *

Raul had never known such self-assured insolence from a woman as beautiful and alluring as the prim and proper Lydia Carter-Wilson. She certainly didn’t want to hear what he had to say and wasn’t prepared to listen to his suggestion for dealing with the situation they were both now in. A solution he was certain would be acceptable. Yet it was blatantly clear all this fiery beauty cared about was herself. She hadn’t changed a bit since he’d met her ten years ago. Granted, she’d become a beautiful and sexy woman, but she wasn’t any different. She was still a spoilt little rich girl. Daddy’s princess—and a liar.

He pushed down the irrational anger that engulfed him every time he thought of what his father had done. That last meddling dig at the son he’d never wanted threatened to unleash all the bitterness and contempt he’d kept hidden since his father had died five months ago. The devious old man had even known he was terminally ill and changed his will to get at him one last time.

‘No, I don’t, but then I’ve never had the dubious pleasure of lunch with a man like you.’ The hot retort fired at him and he couldn’t help but smile. It was definitely an inconvenience having to extricate himself from such an agreement with this woman, but he’d certainly not expected to find it so entertaining. She was a bundle of hot sparks and defiance. Just the mutinous tilt of her chin and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she glared at him fired something deeper than merely lust. Something he had no wish to get tangled in—ever.

She tempted him, daring him with that sexy body that begged to be made love to, and almost all rational thought slipped from his mind. But he was not his father. He would not be drawn by the lure of sex. His playboy reputation was deserved, but only as part of his armour, his defence in order to remain emotionally intact and very single.

‘And what would a man like me be?’ He taunted her, enjoying the fire of annoyance that flared in those green eyes, reminding him of the fresh leaves of spring on the trees in Retiro Park, in his city of birth, Madrid.

‘A man who thinks he only needs to smile at a woman to have her falling at his feet—or into his bed.’ The slight nod of her head, the little so there gesture, as she finished speaking made laughing at her impossible to resist.

‘My bed?’

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me.’ Indignation hurtled out with those words, all but lashing at him, and he reluctantly pushed away the image of this woman in his bed.

‘Maybe a little laughter is how we need to deal with this situation. Now, please sit down. The poor waitress has no idea if we are staying or going.’ He tried to instil some order into their meeting, which didn’t feel anything like a business lunch.

He watched as she turned to look at the waitress who was approaching their table for the second time. He liked the way Lydia’s brunette hair moved, slipping over her shoulder, the loose curls bouncing with the movement, and the way she tucked it back behind her ears. There was an air of vulnerability about her he didn’t buy into at all. There was no way this fiery creature was vulnerable. Spoilt and used to getting her way, yes, but vulnerable, no.

‘I’m not entirely sure being forced into a marriage is a laughing matter.’ She fixed those gorgeous eyes on his face, her full lips pouting slightly, making him briefly wish this were a date and that by the end of the evening he would be able to kiss them. Savagely he pushed those thoughts aside. This was not a time to become distracted.

‘Then on that we agree.’ He beckoned the waitress forward with a subtle move of his hand and watched as Lydia took the menu, appearing to use it as a shield. Against him or the situation? He watched her long lashes lowering as she read and took the opportunity to study her further. Her skin was pale, making it obvious she hadn’t spent the summer in one of her Mediterranean properties. The menu shook very slightly in her hands and he wondered if it was possible for such an audacious woman to be nervous. Much more likely to be anger, he decided, anger that was directed firmly at him. Anger was good, because then at least they could sort out this mess their fathers had selfishly created for them.

As she gave her order her voice became soft and gentle, not at all like the hard and sharp tones he’d been treated to so far. How would she sound if they were here as lovers? Would that softness be beguiling him to take her home and to his bed?

Alarmed by the train of his thoughts yet again, he dragged his mind back to the truth of the situation and placed his order. Employing all the charm he’d perfected as his armour, he smiled at the waitress.

‘So, how exactly do you propose to deal with this situation?’ The softness had gone and the question fired at him with force. Had she meant to use that word? Propose was the last thing he intended to do. He focused his attention back to the woman opposite him, the woman his father had decided would make him a suitable wife simply because of the substantial properties that she owned and her misfortune to have such a reckless and weak father.

He kept his gaze fixed on the pale beauty of her face, watching for any signs of compliance. ‘You have considerable property assets and these were the security used by your father. The terms are more than clear, as I have already informed your lawyer.’

‘I have said that I am more than happy to sell them in order to raise the funds required.’ She cut across him again, stemming the flow of his well-prepared proposition.

‘If that were possible, it would be the most sensible option. Unfortunately, my father has used this security as part of his conditions of his will.’ The outrageous terms his father had insisted on still infused him with rage as fiercely as the day he’d discovered what his father had done. A final jab at his son, even after his death, to get just what he wanted.

‘His will?’ The sharp intake of breath left him in no doubt this was not a piece of information she was aware of. ‘I’m sorry about your loss. I had no idea.’

‘Please don’t waste your sympathy on me.’ He pushed away memories of his childhood, of never being able to be what his father wanted, never knowing how to please him and having no idea why. At least that mystery had been solved. ‘My father and I were not close.’

That was an understatement. He’d lost all respect for his father over ten years ago when he’d taken his womanising to a new level, having affairs with young models and actresses who craved the limelight and high life his name and wealth could give them. The fact that everyone expected him to be just as much of a playboy had irritated him at first, until he’d learnt to use that as defence to keep women at an emotional distance.

The beautiful brunette who’d been dragged into the latest battle his father had set regarded him sceptically, the spell only broken by the arrival of their wine. He smiled at the waitress as he sampled the wine, aware of Lydia’s scrutiny with every breath he took. ‘Very good, thank you.’

‘Yes, I can see any sympathy would be a waste of time.’ Her barbed words flew at him and inwardly he baulked at her directness, but refused to let it show. He was more than used to keeping his emotions away from the scrutiny of others, used to putting on a show of uncaring detachment, and right now that suited him perfectly.

‘So, shall we discuss our options?’ Before she could once again talk over him or correct him, he launched directly into all that needed to be said. ‘I have no wish to marry anyone, least of all you, but the terms of my father’s will are very clear. Upon my father’s death, our marriage is the only way your father’s debt can be repaid—unless you have such a large sum of money saved?’

‘Why can’t I just sell the properties?’ Her eyes widened with disbelief and her hand came to her face, the tip of one finger dragging across her bottom lip in a very distracting way. He watched as the pink-painted nail dug into the plumpness of her lip, wishing he could sample that plumpness against his lips.

Again he urged his mind back to the situation. Perhaps he was more like his father than he’d ever imagined. The thought sickened him. ‘Although the properties are in your name, the terms of the transfer your father carried out means you cannot sell them, that they only remain yours until your marriage, at which point they will become your husband’s property.’

‘What?’ She pressed her fingertips against her mouth, as if to stem the shocked flow of words, and her neat brows furrowed into a frown. He wasn’t falling for that.

‘Hard to believe, but I’m afraid it’s true. It’s also a fact my father sought to exploit when he made his will, just months before he died. I am not happy to have inherited your father’s debt and with it you as my bride.’ He recalled his lawyer’s face, full of apology, and the words that had proved beyond doubt how much his father must have disliked him.

‘I tried to persuade him against it, but he was adamant.’

‘What century are we in?’ Her shock had turned to anger and she flung her hands out over the table, palms upwards in exasperation. ‘Just what did they think they were doing?’

‘It appears we have both been little more than pawns in their game and it’s time now to take control, to thwart whatever it was they each intended.’

‘At least now we are on the same page. I have no intention of marrying someone who wants me for what I have. I almost travelled that road and I’m not going there again.’ Her burst of irritation held a hint of passion, intriguing him in a way he was far from comfortable about.

‘Are you holding out for love, Lydia?’ It was the first time he’d used her name and it shocked him how he liked to say it as he looked into her beautiful face. If circumstances were different, he’d be tempted to reach out and push her hair back from her face, revealing her beauty. But he couldn’t go there. He didn’t seek the confines of marriage, so for now it was better to hide behind the mask of a hardened businessman.

* * *

Lydia’s pulse leapt as he said that word and looked into her eyes. The unyielding blackness of his sent skitters of awareness all over her. Every part of her body was tuned into his, every move he made only intensified it, but the mention of love halted all that, as if she’d just careered into a brick wall.

‘I have no intention of wasting my time holding out for love.’ She bristled at the memory of the man she’d thought she’d loved, the man she’d believed had loved her until she’d discovered he’d also been in the habit of loving as many other women as he could. By that point she and Daniel were engaged. This had rankled her father and, just to show him she’d make her own decisions in life, she’d accepted Daniel’s apology. Something she deeply regretted. It would have been almost preferable to have her father look at her with that I told you so expression than the humiliation after Daniel had left her because she no longer had anything to offer him, something her father had made very clear to him, although at that point she’d not understood exactly what he’d meant.

Now she did. It was the contract her father had signed with Raul Valdez’s father, using her as his leverage, his security.

‘So cynical, Lydia. Are you not in search of your Mr Right, the man to live happily ever after with?’ His accented voice sent a shiver of awareness over her and she knew a flush of colour had spread over her face.

Who was he to mock such dreams? He was a complete playboy.

‘Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.’ She couldn’t help the light and flirty tone of her voice and to hide her embarrassment she took a sip of her wine. ‘But that is not why we are here, to discuss such nonsense as love, Mr Valdez, is it?’

‘No, we are not.’ He snapped the words out, his accent sharp, and she sensed the impatience in him. Or was it irritation? ‘We are here because your father defaulted on his loan.’

Before he could say any more Lydia cut across him once more, not missing the frown of annoyance, which gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. ‘And because your father saw fit to use that default in the most devious and unethical way.’

‘I agree,’ he said and leant forward in the seat, his dark eyes penetrating hers, preventing her from doing anything other than looking into them, but they were cold and she shivered slightly. ‘That is why we are here. To extricate ourselves from a marriage I certainly don’t want and it would seem you share that view.’

‘I still don’t see why I can’t just sign some of the properties over to you, or sell them and clear the debt.’ She wished now she’d had a proper meeting with her solicitor instead of the rushed phone call. She hadn’t understood all he’d told her and in all honesty she couldn’t believe what her father had done.

‘You do not own them, Lydia. They are only yours until you marry, at which time they will pass into the legal possession of your husband.’

She recalled an argument with her father almost a year ago, one of those rare meetings of father and daughter. He’d been smugly pleased with his latest plot to manipulate her into marriage for the good of his company. He’d told her he had found her a husband and that this time she would have no choice but to do as she was told. She’d refused, telling him she and Daniel were engaged, but that had been no deterrent to the lows her father had stooped to in order to save himself from financial ruin. She’d had no idea his vast property portfolio had been put into her name until her marriage.

‘By that you mean you.’ She put down her wine glass and glared at him, everything clear at last. ‘Your father added the marriage clause in his will to trick my father.’

‘I consider it more of a shrewd tactic to safeguard the considerable amount of money he had loaned to your father’s business. He must have been sure your father wouldn’t obtain such levels of funding through the usual channels and added the extra condition in his will, should the debt remain unsettled in the event of his death.’