Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO. Maureen Child
He huffed out a breath.
“Well, she’s just going to have to find her strength from somewhere. The dinner is far too important to postpone.”
He missed the subtle curve of Giselle’s mouth as he voiced his frustration.
“She probably will benefit from a few good meals, Alex. She does look rather … frail,” Giselle commented as she collected the papers off his desk and turned to go back to her desk in the outer office.
“Frail?”
Alex frowned again. Certainly Loren was very slightly built, but in his arms he’d felt the strength and suppleness of her body. Plus, he’d witnessed firsthand her mental determination.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” he concluded. “She will be fine, I’m sure.”
“Would you like me to make sure she’s ready for the dinner tonight?”
“No, Giselle, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
“No problem.” His assistant smiled in return before closing his door behind her.
Alex sat staring at the door for some time, comparing the disparities between the two women. Aside from the obvious physical differences—Giselle’s lush femininity versus Loren’s more gamine appearance—they were worlds apart in other matters. While Giselle tended to be exactly what she appeared to be, and wasn’t afraid to say exactly what she wanted, Loren had hidden strengths. The way she’d dealt with her mother’s objections being a case in point. The phrase “still waters run deep” had been designed with someone like Loren in mind, he was sure.
Had he done the right thing? He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing headache that had begun behind his eyes. He had to have made the right choice. To have done anything else was unacceptable. Loren had all the credentials—from her bloodlines right down to her experience within the milieu where he moved socially. This marriage between them would work. She was everything he needed in a wife and he would do whatever he had to in order to be what she needed in a husband.
The late-afternoon sun slanted like a blush of color across the golden brick of the castillo as he approached. A wry smile tweaked at Alex’s lips as he realized just how much he took for granted that the medieval stronghold, in his family for centuries, was indeed his home.
While still remaining true to the age-old architecture and the style so typical of the island, the interior had been modernized to make for very comfortable living. Several del Castillo families could, and had in the past, share the various apartments the castillo offered for private family living, if desired. Despite that, his brothers had chosen to make their own homes elsewhere on the island—Reynard in a luxurious city apartment overlooking the sparkling harbor of Isla Sagrado’s main city, Puerto Seguro, and Benedict in a modern home clinging to the hillside overlooking the del Castillo vineyard and winery.
He understood why they each felt the need to carve out their own space but he still missed their presence around the castillo, for all the rare time he spent at home these days. Between himself and Abuelo there was a great deal of space to fill. A little more of the castillo had been filled today because Loren was inside right at that moment—waiting for him. Something about the thought of his bride-to-be newly settled in his home made it all abruptly real to Alex. After all the planning, she was finally here. In a few weeks, she would be his wife. And hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, the building would fill with the sounds of children again. His children. The thought made something deep inside him swell.
It would be good for Abuelo to be distracted from the rigors of growing old by the prospect of amusing the next generation of del Castillos. He had a wealth of family history to share. It was only right he have the opportunity to do so.
With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Alex swept his sleek black Lamborghini through the electronic gates and inside the walls, toward the stables that had been converted to a multicar garage thirty years ago. In minutes he was on the large curved stone staircase leading to the next floor, which housed the private suites of family rooms. Loren’s was close to his own and he hesitated at her door, his hand poised to knock.
Something stayed his hand, and he let his fingers curl instead around the intricately carved heavy brass handle of her door. It lifted smoothly, gaining him entrance. He would have to speak to her later about keeping her door locked. While the castillo’s security was advanced, paparazzi were not above masquerading as one of the many staff, or even bribing them, in an attempt to get the latest scoop on the family.
Long silent strides on the thickly carpeted floor led him to her bedroom. There, sprawled across the covers, lay his future bride. Every nerve in his body surged to life as he observed her, arms and limbs askew, hair spread like a dark cloud around her head. There should be a childlike innocence about her, he thought, yet instead there was only the lure of her female form.
Small breasts pressed in perfect mounds against the fine cotton of the T-shirt she’d obviously chosen to sleep in. And only the T-shirt, he observed, keeping himself grimly in check even as he feasted on the sight of the faint outline of her nipples against the well-washed fabric. He tore his eyes from their gentle peaks and instead gazed upon the long slender length of her legs. Not one of his most sensible decisions, he thought as a heated pulse beat low in his groin.
One of her arms curved up and over her pillow, the other was flung out to one side, her unadorned hand curled like a delicate shell.
Alex dropped to his knees at her bedside and leaned over the mattress. He felt the warmth radiating from her, as if it were a tangible thing, as his lips hovered over the softness of her palm. Then he bent his head and pressed his lips against the fleshy mound at the base of her thumb, the tip of his tongue sweeping across its surface to taste her skin.
Loren’s fingers curled to cup his cheek and he sensed the precise moment she emerged from her slumber. Heard the sharp intake of breath through her lush pink lips. Saw the awareness flare in her eyes as her lids flashed open.
“Alex?”
Her voice was drugged with the residue of sleep yet its huskiness sent a lance of pure heat cutting through his body, provoking him to full, aching arousal. Right now he wanted nothing more than to sink onto the soft mattress with her, to envelop her in his arms and to taste all the delights her body had to offer. But he’d already promised to wait until their wedding night and they would be expected amongst company very soon. He forced his unwilling flesh to cooperate and gently pulled away from her touch.
“I know you’re tired, but you must begin to ready yourself for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?”
She sounded confused. Surely Giselle had informed her of this evening’s expectations.
“Yes, dinner. My grandfather looks forward to welcoming you back home.”
He averted his gaze as she pushed herself upright and sat with her legs crossed beneath her. The creamy skin of her thighs and the shadowed hollow he knew lay at their apex, just beyond the hem of her shirt, were pure torment as he imagined touching her softness and delving into the hidden flesh there.
Arousal flared anew, this time even more demanding than before. But Loren’s next words, delivered with an unmistakable note of challenge, doused his ardor as quickly as it had flamed into searing life.
“And you? Do you also welcome me home, Alex?”
Three
He fought back the flare of irritation that swelled inside him at her words. Was she criticizing him for not having been at the airport to welcome her? Giselle’s insinuation echoed in the back of his mind. He fought for an edge of control, reminding himself she was no doubt still overtired from her journey and perhaps still wearing her disappointment he wasn’t there to welcome her in person.
“Ah, I see you are still upset I was not at the airport to greet you. I thought Giselle explained why I could not be there.”
“Oh