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Honour-Bound Groom

Yvonne Lindsay

Cinderella & the CEO

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Honour-Bound Groom

Yvonne Lindsay

His lips were only millimetres from hers. Already he could feel her breath against him.

“Alex, wait!”

He drew in a shuddering breath, constraining his desire.

“Don’t worry, Loren. I will make tonight one you will never forget.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, pulling out of his arms. “It’s about us. Our marriage.”

“Us?”

What was she talking about? They were married.

Tonight would see the consummation of that marriage.

“Yes, Alex, us. I love you. I’ve always loved you one way or another. And even knowing you don’t love me, I agreed to marry you in part because of my feelings for you, but also to honour my father, and his promise to yours.” Her eyes glistened in the candlelight with unshed tears. “Can you honestly tell me that you have done the same?”

Dear Reader,

When this trilogy first started to grow in my mind I really let my imagination wander. Initially this was going to be a royal trilogy, because doesn’t everyone love a royal? Well, after a little gentle guidance from my editor at the time, I was persuaded away from the over-the-top fairy-tale aspects of the stories I’d initially outlined and my mind spun off on another tangent. A wealthy family bound by a three-hundred-year-old legend and a curse, and living on a totally fictional Mediterranean island called Isla Sagrado. Just goes to show that all those years of daydreaming in class (and my school reports will support this) were worthwhile after all.

So here we have it. Book No. 1 of Wed At Any Price—Alexander and Loren’s story. My working title for this was The Spaniard’s Honour Bride, which kept me focused on the deep sense of honour Alex has in his duty to the people of his country and to his family. Of course, his bride was a girl promised to him virtually from the cradle and who has loved him her whole life. The challenge of bringing them together and keeping them together was great grist for this writer’s mill.

I hope you enjoy Honour-Bound Groom and that you look forward to the next instalment in the trilogy, Stand-In Bride’s Seduction, where Alex’s brother, Reynard, meets his match and learns that love is not all about appearances.

Happy reading and very best wishes,

Yvonne Lindsay

About the Author

New Zealand-born to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two surprisingly amenable teenagers, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com.

This book is dedicated to all my wonderful readers,

who make it possible for me to keep writing books.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Prologue

Isla Sagrado, three months ago …

“Abuelo is losing his marbles. He talked again of the curse today.”

Alexander del Castillo leaned back in the deep and comfortable dark leather chair and gave his brother, Reynard, a chastising look.

“Our grandfather is not going mad, he is merely growing old. And he worries—for all of us.” Alex’s gaze encompassed his youngest brother, Benedict, also. “We have to do something about it—something drastic—and soon. This negative publicity about the curse is not just affecting him, it’s affecting business, too.”

“That’s true. Revenue at the winery is down this quarter. More than anticipated,” Benedict agreed, reaching for his glass of del Castillo Tempranillo and taking a sip. “It certainly isn’t the quality of the wine that’s doing it, if I say so myself.”

“Put your ego back where it belongs and focus, would you?” Alex growled. “This is serious. Reynard, you’re our head of publicity, what can we do for the family as a whole that will see talk about this stupid curse laid to rest once and for all?”

Reynard cast him a look of disbelief. “You actually want to lend credence to the curse?”

“If it means we can get things on an even keel again. We owe it to Abuelo, if not to ourselves. If we’d been more traditional in our ways then the issue would probably not have arisen.”

“The del Castillos have never been renowned for their traditional outlook, mi hermano,” Reynard pointed out with a deprecating grin.

“And look where that has put us,” Alex argued. “Three hundred years and the governess’s curse would still appear to be upon us. Whether you believe in it or not, according to the legend, we’re it—the last generation. If we don’t get things right, the entire nation—including our grandfather—believes it will be the end of the del Castillo family. Do you want that on your conscience?” He stared his younger brother down before flicking his gaze to Benedict. “Do you?”

Reynard shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief. He seemed stunned that his eldest brother had joined their grandfather in the crazy belief that an age-old legend could be based in truth. And more, that it could be responsible for affecting their prosperity, indeed, threatening their very lives today.

Alex understood Reynard’s skepticism. But what choice did they have? As long as the locals believed in the curse, bad publicity would affect the way the del Castillo family could do business. And as long as Abuelo believed, the paths he and his brothers chose could make or break the happiness of the man who had raised them all.

“No, Alex.” Reynard sighed. “I do not want to be responsible for our family’s demise any more than you do.”

“So what do we do about it?” Benedict challenged with a humorless laugh. “It’s not as if we can suddenly drum up loving brides so we can marry and live happily ever after.”

“That’s it!” Reynard declared with a shouted laugh and pushed himself up and out of his seat.

His abrupt movement and shout unsettled the dogs sleeping in front of the fire, sending them barking around his feet. A clipped command from Alex made them slink back to their rug and assume their drowsing state.

“That’s what we need to do. It’ll be a publicity exercise such as Isla Sagrado has never seen before.”

“And you think Abuelo is losing his marbles?” Benedict asked and took another sip of his wine.

“No,” Alex said, excitement beginning to build in his chest. “He’s right. That’s exactly what we must do. Remember the curse. If the ninth generation does not live by our family motto of honor, truth and love, in life and in marriage, the del Castillo name will die out forever. If we each marry and have families, well, for a start that will show the curse for the falsehood it is. People will put their trust in our name again rather than in fear and superstition.”

Reynard sat back down. “You’re serious,” he said flatly.

“Never more so,” Alex answered.

Whether he’d been kidding around or not, Reynard had hit on the very thing that would not only settle their grandfather’s concerns but would be a massive boost to the del Castillo name. Its ongoing effect on the people of Isla Sagrado would increase prosperity across the entire island nation.

While Isla Sagrado was a minor republic in the Mediterranean, the del Castillo family had long held a large amount of influence on the island’s affairs, whether commercial or political. As the family had prospered so, by natural process, did the people of Isla Sagrado.

Unfortunately, the reverse was also true.

“You expect each of us to simply marry the right women and start families and then, hey, presto, all will be well?” Reynard’s voice was saturated with disbelief.

“Exactly. How hard can it be?” Alex got up and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good-looking guy. I’m sure you have plenty of candidates.”

Benedict snorted. “Not the kind he’d bring home to Abuelo, I’d wager.”

“You can talk,” Reynard retorted. “You’re too busy racing that new Aston Martin of yours along the cliff road to slow down long enough for a woman to catch you.”

Alex walked over to the fireplace and leaned against the massive stone mantel that framed it. Carved from island rock, the hearth had seen generation after generation of his family sprawl in front of its warmth. He and his brothers would not be the last to do so. Not if he had anything to do with it.

“All joking aside, are you willing to at least try?” he asked, his eyes flicking from one brother to the next.

Of the two, Benedict looked most like him. In fact some days he felt as if he was looking into a mirror when he saw his brother’s black hair and black-brown eyes. Reynard took after their French mother. Finer featured, perhaps more dramatic with his dark coloring because of it. Female attention had never been an issue for any of them, even from before they’d hit puberty. In fact, with only three years in total separating the brothers, they’d been pretty darn competitive in their playboy bachelorhood. They were all in their early thirties now and had mostly left that phase behind but the reputation still lingered, and it was that very lifestyle that had brought them to this current conundrum.

“It’s all right for you, you’re already engaged to your childhood sweetheart,” Benedict teased him with a smirk, clearly still not prepared to take the matter seriously on any level.

“Hardly my sweetheart since she was only a baby when we were betrothed.”

Twenty-five years ago their father had saved his best friend, Francois Dubois, from drowning after the latter had accepted a dare from their father to swim off Isla Sagrado’s most dangerous beach below the castillo. In gratitude, Dubois had promised the hand of his infant daughter, Loren, to Raphael del Castillo’s eldest son. In a modern society no one but the two men had ever really given any credence to the pledge. But the two men were old-school all the way back down their ancestral lines and they’d taken the matter very seriously indeed.

Alex had barely paid any attention at the time, despite the fact that, virtually from the day she could walk, Loren had followed him around like a faithful puppy. He’d been grateful when her parents had divorced and her mother had taken her away to New Zealand, clear on the other side of the world, when Loren had been fifteen. Twenty-three years old at the time, he’d found it unsettling to have a gangling, underdeveloped teenager telling his girlfriends that she was his fiancée.

Since then, the engagement had been a convenient excuse to avoid the state of matrimony. Until now, he hadn’t even considered marriage, and certainly not in the context of Francois Dubois’s promise to Raphael del Castillo. But what better way to continue to uphold his family’s honor and position on Isla Sagrado than to fulfill the terms of the spoken contract between two best friends? He could see the headlines already. It would be a media coup that would not only benefit the del Castillo business empire, but the whole of Isla Sagrado, as well.

He thought briefly of the dalliance he’d begun with his personal assistant. He didn’t normally choose to mix business with pleasure, especially from within his own immediate work environment. But Giselle’s persistent attempts to seduce him had been entertaining and—once he’d given in—very satisfying.

A curvaceous blonde, Giselle enjoyed being escorted to the high spots of Sagradan society and entertainment. Certainly she was beautiful and talented—in more ways than one—but wife material? No. They’d both known that nothing long-term would ever have come of their relationship. No doubt she’d be philosophical and he knew she was sophisticated enough to accept his explanation that their intimacy could no longer continue. In fact, he’d put a stop to it right away. He needed to create some emotional space between now and when he brought Loren back to be his bride.

Alex made a mental note to source a particularly lovely piece of jewelry to placate Giselle and turned his mind back to the only current viable option for the position of his wife.

Loren Dubois.

She was from one of the oldest families here on Isla Sagrado, and had always taken great pride in her heritage. Even though she’d been gone for ten years, he’d wager she was still Sagradan to her marrow—and as devoted to her father’s memory as she had been to the man during his lifetime. She wouldn’t hesitate to honor the commitment made all those years ago. What’s more, she’d understand what it meant to be a del Castillo bride, together with what that responsibility involved. And she would now be at the right age, and maturity, to marry and to help put the governess’s curse to rest once and for all.

Alex smirked at his brothers. “So, that’s me settled. What are you two going to do?”

“You have to be kidding us, right?” Benedict looked askance at Alex, as if he’d suddenly announced his intention to enter a monastery. “Lanky little Loren Dubois?”

“Maybe she’s changed.” Alex shrugged. It mattered little how she looked. Marrying her was his duty—his desires weren’t relevant. With any luck she’d be pregnant with his child within the first year of their marriage and too busy thereafter with the baby to put any real demands upon him.

“But still, why would you choose her when you could have any woman alive as your wife?” Reynard entered the fray.

Alex sighed. Between them his brothers were as tenacious as a pair of wolves after a wounded beast.

“Why not? Marrying her will serve multiple purposes. Not only will it honor an agreement made between our late father and his friend, but it will also help relieve Abuelo’s concerns. And that’s not even mentioning what it will do for our public image. Let’s face it. The media will lap it up, especially if you leak the original betrothal story as an appetizer. They’ll make it read like a fairy tale.”

“And what of Abuelo’s concerns about the next generation?” Reynard asked, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think your bride will be so happy to ensure our longevity? For all you know she may already be married.”

“She’s not.”

“And you know this because?”

“Abuelo had an investigator keep tabs on her after Francois died. Since his stroke last year, the reports have come to me.”

“So you’re serious about it then. You’re really going to go through with a twenty-five-year-old engagement to a woman you don’t even know anymore.”

“I have to, unless you have any better suggestions. Rey?”

Reynard shook his head. A short sharp movement of his head that bore witness to the frustration they all felt at the position they were in.

“And you, Ben? Anything you can think of that will save our name and our fortunes, not to mention make Abuelo’s final years with us happier ones?”

“You know there is nothing else,” Benedict replied, resignation to their combined fates painting stark lines on his face.

“Then, my brothers, I’d like to propose a toast. To each of us and to the future del Castillo brides.”

One

New Zealand, now …

“I have come to discuss the terms of our fathers’ agreement. It is time we marry.”

From the second his sleek gray Eurocopter had landed on the helipad close to the house she’d wondered what had brought Alexander del Castillo here. Now she knew. She could hardly believe it.

Loren Dubois studied the tall near stranger commanding the space of her mother’s formal sitting room. Her eyes drank in the sight of him after so long. Dressed all in black, his dark hair pushed back from his forehead and his brown-black eyes fixed firmly on her face, he should have been intimidating but instead she wondered whether she’d conjured up an age-old dream.

Marry? Her heart jumped erratically in her chest and she tried to force it back to its usual slow and steady rhythm. Years ago, she’d have leaped at the opportunity, but now? With age had come caution. She wasn’t a love-struck teenager anymore. She’d seen firsthand what an unhappy alliance could do to a couple, as her parents’ tempestuous marriage had attested. She and Alexander del Castillo didn’t even know one another anymore. Yet, for some reason, the way he’d proposed marriage—in typical autocratic del Castillo fashion—made her go weak at the knees.

She gave herself a swift reality check. Who was she kidding? He hadn’t proposed. He’d flat out told her, as if there was no question that she’d accept. It didn’t help that every fiber in her body wanted to do just that.

Wait, she reminded herself. Slow down.

It had been ten years since she’d laid eyes on him. Ten years since her fifteen-year-old heart had been broken and she’d been dragged to New Zealand by her mother after the divorce. A long time not to hear from someone by any standards, let alone from the man she had been betrothed to from the cradle.

Even so, a part of her still wanted to leap at the suggestion. Loren took a steadying breath. Although their engagement had always been the stuff of fairy tales, she was determined to stay firmly rooted in the present.

“Marry?” she responded, drawing her chin up slightly as if it could give her that extra height and lessen Alex’s dominance over her. “You arrive here with no prior warning—in fact, no contact at all since I left Isla Sagrado—and the first thing you say to me is that it’s time we marry? That’s a little precipitate, wouldn’t you say?”

“Our betrothal has stood for a quarter of a century. I would say our marriage is past due.”

There it was—that delicious hint of accent in his voice, characteristic of the Spanish-Franco blend of nationalities of their home country, Isla Sagrado. It was an accent she’d long since diluted with her time in New Zealand, yet from his lips the sound was like velvet stroking bare skin. Her body responded to the timbre of it even as she fought down the wave of longing that spiraled from her core. Had she missed him that much?

Of course she had. That much and more. But she was grown-up now. A woman, not a child, nor a displaced bratty teen. Loren attempted to inject a fine thread of steel into her voice.

“A betrothal that no one seriously expected to be fulfilled, surely.”

Somehow she had to show him she wouldn’t be such a pushover. In all the time since she’d left Isla Sagrado he’d made no contact whatsoever. Not so much as a card at Christmas or her birthday. His indifference had hurt.

“Are you saying that your father made such a gesture lightly when he offered your hand?”

Loren laughed, the sound of it hollow even to her ears. She still missed her father with a physical ache, even though he’d been dead these past seven years. With him had gone her last link to Isla Sagrado and, she’d believed, to Alex. But now Alex was very much here and she didn’t know how to react. Stay strong, she told herself. Above all, stay strong. That’s the only way to earn the respect of a del Castillo.

“A hand that was little more than three months old when it was promised to you—you yourself were only eight,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster.

Alex moved a step toward her. She almost felt the air part to allow him passage; he had that kind of presence. Despite her inexperience with men of Alex’s caliber, it was one she responded to instinctively.

Alex had always been magnetic, but the past ten years had seen a new maturity settle on his broad shoulders, together with a stronger and more determined line to his jaw. He looked older than the thirty-three years she knew him to be. Older and harder. Certainly not a man who took “no” for an answer.

“I’m not eight anymore. And you—” he paused and ran his eyes over her body “—you are most certainly no longer a child.”

Loren’s skin flared hot, as if he’d touched her with more than a glance. As if his long strong fingers had stroked her face, her throat, her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten and strain against the practical cotton of her bra. And the longing within her grew harder to resist.

“Alex,” she said, her voice slightly breathless, “you don’t know me anymore. I don’t know you. For all you know I’m already married.”

“I know you are not.”

He knew? What else did he know about her, she wondered. Had he somehow kept tabs on her all this time?

“It would be foolish for us to marry. We don’t even know if we’re compatible.”

“We have the rest of our lives to learn the details of what we can do to please one another.”

Alex’s voice was a low murmur and his eyes dropped to her mouth. Please or pleasure? Which had he really meant, she thought, as she struggled against the urge to moisten her lips with her tongue. The longing sharpened and drew into a tight coil deep within her. Loren fought back a moan—the pure, visceral response to his mere gaze shocking her with its intensity.

Her lack of experience with men had never bothered her before this moment. All her dealings with guests and male staff here at her mother’s family’s sheep and cattle station had been platonic and she’d preferred it that way. It had been difficult enough to settle into the isolation of the farm without the complications of a relationship with someone directly involved with the day-to-day workings of the place. Besides, anything else would have felt like a betrayal—to her father’s promise and to the lingering feelings she still bore for Alex.

Now, that lack of experience had come back to haunt her. A man like Alex del Castillo would certainly expect more than what she had to offer. Would demand it.

In her younger years, she’d adored Alex with the kind of hero worship that a child had for an attractive older person—and, oh yes, he’d been attractive from the moment he’d drawn his first breath. She’d seen the photos to prove it. She’d believed that adoration had deepened into love, love not dimmed by Alex’s vague tolerance of the scrawny kid who followed him like a shadow around the castillo that had been his family home for centuries.

For as long as she could remember she’d plagued her father to repeat the story of how Alex’s dad, Raphael, had saved him from drowning on the beach below the castillo after a crazy dare between friends had almost turned deadly. And she’d hung on his every word as he’d reached the part where, in deepest gratitude, he’d promised his newborn daughter in marriage to Raphael’s eldest son.

But her childish dreams of happily ever after with her fairy-tale prince were quite different from the virile, masculine reality of the man in front of her. Every move he made showed that Alex had a degree of sensual knowledge and experience she couldn’t even begin to imagine, much less match. It was exciting and intimidating all at once. Was she already in over her head?

“Besides,” Alex said, his voice still low, pitched only for her ears, “it is time now that I marry and who better than the woman to whom I’ve been affianced all her life?”

Alex’s dark brown eyes bored into hers, daring her to challenge him. But, surprisingly, beneath the dare, Loren saw something else reflected in their depths.

While he’d appeared so strong and self-assured from the moment he’d alighted from the helicopter and strode toward their sprawling schist rock home nestled near the base of the Southern Alps, there was now a hint of uncertainty in his gaze. As if he expected some resistance from Loren to the idea that they fulfill the bargain struck between two best friends so long ago.

The scent of his cologne wove softly around her like an ancient spell, invading her senses and scrambling her mind. Rational thought flew out the window as he took another step closer to her, as his hand reached for her chin and tilted her face up to his.

His fingers were gentle against her skin. Her breath stopped in her chest. He bent his head, bringing his lips to hers—their pressure warm, tender, coaxing. His hand slid from her jaw to cup the back of her neck.

Loren’s head spun as she parted her lips beneath his and tasted the intimacy of his tongue as it gently swept the soft tissue of her lower lip. A groan rippled from her throat and suddenly she was in his arms, her body aligned tightly against the hard planes of his chest, his abdomen. Her arms curved around him, snaking under the fine wool of his jacket and across the silk of his shirt. The heat of his skin through the finely woven fabric seared her hands. She pressed her fingertips firmly into the strong muscles of his back.

She fit into the shape of his body as though she had indeed been born to the role, and as his lips plundered hers, all she could, or wanted to, think of was how it felt to finally be in his arms. Not a single one of her frustrated teenage fantasies had lived up to the reality.

This was more, so much more than she’d ever dreamed. The strength and power of him in her arms was overwhelming and she clung to him with the longing of a lifetime finally given substance. It barely seemed real but the solid presence of him, his skillful mouth, the sensation of his fingertips massaging the base of her scalp, all combined to be very, very real indeed.

Every nerve in her body was alive, gloriously alive, and begging for more. She’d never experienced such a depth of passion with another man and was certain she never would.

She knew to her very soul that this connection, this instant magnetic pull between them, was meant to be forever, just as their fathers had preordained. And, with this one embrace, she knew she wanted it all.

In the distance she heard the front door slam, its heavy wooden thud echoing down the hardwood floor of the main hallway. Reluctantly she loosened her grip and forced herself to draw away from Alex’s embrace. The instant she did so, she almost sobbed. The loss of his warmth, his touch, was indescribable. Loren fought free of the sensual fog that infused her mind as her mother swept into the sitting room, the staccato tap of her swift footfall fading into silence as she stepped onto the heirloom Aubusson carpet.

“Loren! Whose is that helicopter out on the pad? Oh!” she said, displeasure twisting her patrician features. “It’s you.”

It was hardly the kind of welcome Naomi Simpson generally prided herself on, Loren noted with a trace of acerbity. As her mother’s gaze darted between her and Alex, Loren fought not to smooth her hair and clothing, drawing instead on every ounce of her mother’s training to appear aloof and in control—at least as far as her hammering heartbeat rendered her capable.

Alex remained close at her side, one arm now casually slung about her waist, his fingers gently stroking the top of her hip through her red merino wool sweater. Tiny sizzling tendrils of electricity feathered along her skin at his lazy touch and she found it hard to focus.

Her mother had no such difficulty.

“Loren? Would you care to explain?”

There was no entreaty in Naomi’s words. Even phrased as a question she demanded answers and, if the frozen look of fury on her face was any indicator, she wanted those answers right now.

“Mother, you remember Alex del Castillo, don’t you?”

“I do. I can’t say I ever expected to see you here. I’d hoped we were completely shot of Isla Sagrado the day we left.”

With typical Gallic charm Alex nodded toward Naomi. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Madame Dubois.”

“I wish I could say the same. And, just for the record, I go by Simpson now,” Naomi answered. “Why are you here?”

“Mother!” Loren protested.

“Don’t worry, Loren,” Alex murmured into her ear. “I will deal with your mother.”

The warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear sent a tiny tremor down her spine. He exaggerated the two syllables of her name, emphasizing the last to give it an exotic resonance totally at odds with her everyday existence here on the station.

“Nobody needs to deal with anyone,” she replied. She cast a stern look at Naomi. “Mother, you are forgetting your manners. That is not the way we treat guests here at the Simpson Station.”

“Guests are one thing. Ghosts from the past are quite another.”

Naomi threw herself into the nearest chair and glared at Alex.

“I’m sorry, Alex, she’s not normally so rude,” Loren apologized. “Perhaps you should go.”

“I think not. There are matters that need to be discussed,” Alex answered, his attention firmly on Naomi’s bristling presence.

He guided Loren to one of the richly upholstered sofas before settling his long frame at her side. A shiver of awareness rippled through her as his presence imprinted along her body.

“I believe you know why I’m here. It is time for Loren and me to fulfill our fathers’ promise to one another.”

Naomi’s snort was at total odds with her elegant appearance.

“Promise? More like the ramblings of two crazy men who should have known better. No one in the developed world would sanction such an archaic suggestion.”

“Archaic or not, I feel bound to honor my father’s wish. Much as I imagine Loren does, also.”

Loren felt that shiver again as Alex responded to her mother’s derision. Naomi wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to be contradicted. She ruled the station with an iron fist and a razor-sharp mind and was both respected and feared by her staff. Despite her designer chic wardrobe and her petite frame she was every bit as capable as any one of the staff here. A fact she had proven over and over again. But she was very much accustomed to being in charge, with her decrees accepted without question. The problem was, Alex was used to that, too. This confrontation could get messy, especially once her mother realized whose side Loren was on.

“Loren.” Her mother turned to her with a stiff smile on her carefully tinted lips. “Surely you’re not going to take this seriously. You have a life here, a job, responsibilities. Why on earth would you even consider this outrageous plan?”

Why indeed, Loren wondered as she looked around her. Yes, she had a life here. A life she’d been dragged to, kicking and screaming and full of sullen teenage pout. She’d never wanted to live with her mother but her father hadn’t contested his wife’s petition for full custody of their only child. Loren had later realized that had in part been because he’d never believed Naomi would actually go through with the divorce and relocate to the opposite side of the world. But his apparent indifference had hurt at the time and she’d arrived here at the Simpson Station feeling as though her entire world had been ripped apart. With that kind of beginning, it was hardly surprising that she’d learned to accept her place at the station, but she’d never learned to love it.

And as for her work here and her responsibilities? Well, it would only be Naomi who missed her, and then only for as long as it took to browbeat some other assistant into docile submission. No. Loren had nothing to hold her here. She and Naomi had never enjoyed the kind of mother-daughter relationship that Loren knew others had and she had learned very early that it was easier to accede to her mother’s wishes than fight for her own. On Isla Sagrado, Loren had been almost solely her father’s child, and Loren had always believed her mother had taken her from the island more as a punishment for Francois Dubois than out of any kind of maternal instinct.

She’d missed Isla Sagrado every day of the past ten years. Of course that pain of loss, the wrench of being repatriated, had dimmed a little over time, but it was still as real now as the man seated alongside her.

Seeing him again was as if he’d brought with him the heat and splendor and lush extravagance of Isla Sagrado. Not to mention the promise of the revival of a passion for living that had lain dormant within her since she’d left the country of her birth.

Yes, her initial reaction to Alex’s arrival here had been shock and disbelief. But it was clear he meant what he said. Why else would he have traveled half the world to come and see her?

Thoughts spun through her mind with lightning-fast speed. Her earlier objections, as weak as they were, had come reflexively—a direct result of surprise at the manifestation of the man who’d been a part of her dreams her entire life. She’d wanted—no, she’d needed—to hear him refute her doubts to her face. To tell her they belonged together as she’d always imagined, as she’d pretty much lost hope of imagining.

Now she knew what it was like to be in his arms, to feel truly alive for the first time she could remember, there was no way she was going to turn her back on her destiny with the only man she’d ever loved.

“Why would I consider marrying Alex? I would have thought that was quite straightforward,” Loren responded with as much aplomb as she could muster under her mother’s piercing gaze. “Inasmuch as Alex wishes to honor his father, so do I mine. I’ve always understood that this would be my future, Mother.” She turned her face to look at Alex. “And it’s what I’ve always wanted. I would be honored to be Alex’s wife.”

“How on earth could you know what you want?” Naomi demanded, pushing up out of her chair and pacing back and forth between them. “You’ve barely been off the station since we’ve lived here. You haven’t experienced the world, other men, anything!”

“Is that what it really takes to make a person happy? Are you truly happy?” Loren held her mother’s gaze as her questions unerringly hit their mark. Naomi gaped for a moment, clearly surprised to hear Loren fight back. But even Naomi couldn’t deny the truth of what Loren had said.

Naomi’s affairs were legend in New Zealand—her power and beauty made for a magnetically lethal combination—and yet, even though many had tried, no man had captured her heart. Loren knew she didn’t want that life for herself.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you—your future, your life. Don’t throw it away on a pledge made before you can even remember. You are worth so much more than that, Loren.”

Loren felt the walls, her mother’s walls, closing in around her and she pushed them back just as hard.

“Exactly, Mother.” Loren sat up straighter, confidence coming from Alex’s warmth against her side—confidence to speak her mind at last and say the words she’d locked down deep inside for too long. “I stayed here because I had nothing else to do. Growing up on Isla Sagrado, I believed I had a purpose, a direction. When you and Papa split up I lost that. You took me away from the only future I ever wanted.”

“You were just a child—”

“Maybe then, yes. But I’m not a child any longer. We both know I’ve been marking time these past few years. You know my heart isn’t in the station like yours is. You always felt displaced on Isla Sagrado. That’s how I feel here. I want to go back.

“As you so correctly pointed out, we are talking about my future and my life—and I want that to be on Isla Sagrado, with Alex.”

He could hardly believe it had been so easy. Alex savored the exhilaration that surged within him as Loren’s words hung on the air between mother and daughter.

His body continued to throb in reaction to the slightly built woman at his side, remembering how it felt to be pressed against her far more intimately. Yes, kissing her had been a risk, but he’d built his formidable business reputation on taking big risks and reaping even bigger rewards. This had definitely been a risk worth taking.

Just one look at her had been enough to prove the information he’d been given about her sheltered lifestyle. She appeared as untouched and protected as she’d been the day she left Isla Sagrado. But beneath that inexperienced exterior beat a sensual heart. Wakening that side of her would be a delight and would make the whole process of providing Abuelo with a great-grandchild, as proof the curse did not exist and laying it to rest once and for all, an absolute pleasure.

Alex tilted his head slightly to watch Loren as her mother began a tirade of reasons why she should not return to Isla Sagrado. He wasn’t worried about Naomi’s arguments. If there was one thing he remembered most clearly about Loren as a child it was that despite her quiet attitude, there was no matching her tenacity once she had made up her mind. The vast number of his girlfriends she’d scared off being a case in point.

Instead of following the argument, he took the time to fully take in the woman who would be his wife. Her long black hair, scraped back in a utilitarian ponytail, showcased the delicate structure of her face. And what a face—the child’s features he remembered had matured into those of a beautiful young woman’s. Her brows were still strong and delicately arched but the eyes beneath them, dark brown like his own, glowed with an inner fire, and her lips were full and lush. Fuller, perhaps, because of their recent kiss, and certainly something he wanted to taste and savor again.

Where had that gawky kid who’d followed him around incessantly disappeared to? In place of the slightly older version of her that he’d expected, he’d discovered a woman who, while she had every appearance of fragility and a vulnerable air about her that aroused his protective instincts, somehow had managed to develop a backbone of pure steel.

He was reminded of Audrey Hepburn as he looked at her now. The gamine features, matured into beauty—the delicate bone structure, intensely feminine. Something else roared to life from deep inside of him. Something ancient, almost feral. She was his—betrothed to him as a matter of honor between friends, but his nonetheless. And she’d stay that way. Nothing Naomi could say would ever change that.

Two

Despite the luxurious trappings of first class, Loren had been unable to sleep during the long journey from New Zealand. After a day and a half of travel and changeovers she felt weary and more than a little disoriented as she made her way through Sagradan customs and immigration. Nothing about the airport was familiar to her anymore. Still, she supposed as she hefted her cases from the luggage carousel and onto a trolley, it was only natural that change had come to Isla Sagrado in the ten years she’d been gone.

Even so, a pang for the old place she’d left behind lodged behind her heart. Loren shook her head. She was being fanciful if she expected to be able to walk back into her old life as if she’d never left. So much had changed. Her father was gone, her mother was now half a world away and here she was—engaged and preparing to reunite with her fiancé of only a few weeks.

It didn’t seem real, Loren admitted to herself—and not for the first time. Everything had moved so fast from the moment she’d told her mother she was returning to the home of her birth. Well, at least once Naomi had recognized that she could not sway her only child’s stubborn insistence that she would be marrying Alexander del Castillo.

Alex had taken control once her mother had ceased her objections and washed her hands of the matter, smoothing the way toward having Loren’s expired Sagradan passport renewed and booking her flights to Isla Sagrado. Loren hadn’t had to lift so much as a finger. Well used to taking care of such details for both her mother and for the overseas guests who visited the massive working sheep and cattle station, it had been a pleasure to have someone else take care of her for a change.

Once he’d had everything organized to his satisfaction, Alex had departed, but not before arranging a private dinner for just the two of them, off the station. They’d choppered to Queenstown, where they’d visited a restaurant on the edge of Lake Wakatipu. The late autumn evening had been clear and beautiful and the restaurant every bit as romantic as Loren had ever dreamed.

By the time they’d returned to the station she knew she was totally and irrevocably in love with him. Not the innocent adoration of a child nor the all-absorbing puppy love of an adolescent, but the deeper knowledge that, no matter what, he was her mate in this lifetime and any other.

He’d been solicitous and attentive all night and, before walking her to her small suite of rooms in the main house at the station, he’d kissed her again. Not with the heated, overwhelming rush of emotion that consumed her the day he’d arrived, but with a gentle, sure promise of greater things to come. Her body had quivered in response, eager to discover the depths of his silent promise right there, right then. But Alex had backed off, cupped her cheek with one warm strong hand, and told her he wanted to wait until their wedding night—it would make their union more special, more intimate.

It had only made her love him more and had served to leave her fraught with nerves the entire journey to Isla Sagrado. Nerves that now left her giddy with exhaustion and made battling the broken wheel on her luggage cart all the more taxing. Fighting the way the thing wanted to veer to the left all the time, Loren paid little attention to the sudden silence in the arrival hall as she came through the security doors after clearing customs.

A silence that was suddenly and overwhelmingly broken by the flash of camera bulbs and a barrage of questions flung at her from all directions and in at least three different languages.

One voice broke over all the rest to ask in Spanish, Isla Sagrado’s dominant language, “Is it true you’re here to marry Alexander del Castillo and break the curse?”

Loren blinked in surprise toward the man, even as a multitude of others around him continued with their own questions.

A movement at her side distracted her from answering. A tall and stunningly beautiful woman, wearing a startling red dress, hooked an arm around her and leaned forward, her long, honey-blond hair brushing Loren’s arm like a swathe of silk.

“Don’t answer them. Just smile and keep walking.

I’m Giselle, Alex’s personal assistant. I’m here to collect you,” she murmured in a French-accented voice that was very un-assistantlike. Her emphasis on the word personal hinted strongly at things Loren herself had no experience of.

“Alex isn’t here?” Loren blinked to fight back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes as sharp points of disappointment cut through her.

Believing he’d be here to welcome her home at the end of her journey had been what had kept her going these past few hours. Now, she fought to keep her slender shoulders squared and her sagging spine upright. Struggled to keep placing one foot in front of the other.

Giselle put her free hand on the handle of the luggage cart and directed it, and Loren, toward the exit. Airport security had miraculously cleared a path and beckoned them toward the waiting limousine at the curbside.

“If he’d have come, the media circus would have been worse and we’d never have cleared the airport,” Giselle said in her husky voice. “Besides, he’s a very busy man.”

Giselle’s intimation that Alex had far more important things to attend to than collecting his fiancée from the airport pierced Loren’s weariness, making her stumble slightly.

“Oh, dear,” the other woman said, tightening her hold around Loren’s waist. “You’re a clumsy little thing, aren’t you? You’ll have to improve on that, you know, or the media are going to have a field day with you.”

While Giselle’s tone was light, Loren felt the invisible slap of disapproval behind her words. But there was no chance to respond right away. They were at the car at last. There, a uniformed chauffeur, who looked more like a bodyguard than a driver, hefted her cases into the voluminous trunk of the limo as if they weighed little more than matchsticks. Once that was taken care of, Loren took the opportunity to speak.

“I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been quite a trip,” she responded as she slid over onto the broad backseat of the limousine, her voice a little sharp, earning her an equally sharp look from Giselle in return.

“Touchy, too, hmm?” Giselle narrowed her beautiful green eyes and gave Loren an assessing look. “Well, we’ll see how you measure up. Since Reynard issued the press release about Alex’s engagement, the whole drama of your father’s near drowning and him giving you away afterwards has been front-page news. Goodness knows paparazzi will be crawling all over you to find out about you.”

“I’m surprised. I thought Alex might have kept that quiet,” Loren said, frowning at the thought of having to rehash the story of her and Alex’s fathers’ actions over and over again.

“Quiet? Hardly. With the way things are here they need all the strong publicity they can get. You must remember how the island’s prosperity seems to be intrinsically linked with the del Castillos’. Whether there’s any truth to the curse or not, everyone here is lapping up the story. Promises of happily ever after and all that. Honestly, they’ve made it all sound so sweet it’s almost enough to give you cavities.” Giselle finished with a high-pitched laugh that didn’t quite ring true.

“So you don’t believe in happily ever after?”

“Sweetie,” Giselle replied with a smile stretching her generous lips into a wide curve of satisfaction, “what’s more important is if Alex believes in it. And we both know he’s far too pragmatic for that. Besides, it’s not like you two are going to have a real marriage.”

“Well, I certainly expect we’ll have a real marriage. Why else would we even bother?”

“Oh, dear, you mean he hasn’t said anything yet?”

Loren felt her already simmering temper begin to flare. “Said anything about what?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“About keeping up appearances, of course. Though perhaps he thought it would be clear. After all, if he’d had any interest in a real marriage he’d have wanted to have some say in the organization of the wedding ceremony and reception, wouldn’t he? Instead, he gave me carte blanche. But don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you have a day to remember.”

“Well, I’d like to go over the wedding details with you later on, when I’m more rested,” Loren asserted, pausing for effect. “Then I’ll more than happily take the arrangements off your hands. I’m sure you have far more important things to occupy yourself with.”

Loren chose to ignore the rest of what the woman had said. She knew she and Alex had little time before their proposed wedding date only two weeks away, but surely he hadn’t left everything to his assistant—his personal assistant, she corrected herself.

“Oh, but I have everything under control. Besides, Alex has signed off on what I’ve done already. To change anything now would only cause problems.”

The implication that Loren would bear disapproval from Alex for those problems sat very clearly between the two women. Loren took a steadying breath. She wasn’t up to this right now but she knew what Giselle was doing. She’d probably taken one look at Loren and totally underestimated her. Clearly Giselle had some kind of bond with Alex that she didn’t want to let go. Maybe she’d even harbored a notion of a relationship with him.

Whatever might have happened between Alex and Giselle before she had arrived home, Loren was his fiancée, and she’d prove she was no walkover. Her battle with her mother to come here in the first place had proven to her that she was anything but that.

“Well,” she said, injecting a firm note into her voice, “we’ll see about that once I’ve checked everything over and conferred with Alex.” At the other woman’s sharply indrawn breath she added, “It is my wedding, after all.”

Loren settled back against the soft leather upholstery and gazed out the window of the speeding limousine, wondering if she had gone too far in establishing where she stood with Giselle. Perhaps she’d been oversensitive, worn out as she was with travel. But underneath Giselle’s self-assuredness and apparent solicitude she sensed a vague but definite threat, as if she was stepping where she wasn’t fully welcome by coming back to Isla Sagrado.

She stifled a sigh. She’d expected her homecoming to be different, sure, but when push came to shove she couldn’t forget what—or more importantly, who—had brought her here.

Alex.

Just thinking about him created a swell of longing deep inside. Without thinking, she traced the outline of her lips with her fingertips, silently reliving their last kiss. If she tried hard enough she could still feel the pressure of his mouth against hers, still experience the heady joy of knowing he’d traveled to New Zealand to fulfill their fathers’ bargain—that he’d seen her and still wanted her.

Loren let her hand drop back into her lap and stared out the passenger window, searching for familiar signposts and buildings. The landscape had changed so much that Isla Sagrado hardly felt like home anymore, she thought sadly as the unfamiliar roads and buildings swept by them.

The soft trill of a cell phone startled Loren from her reveries. From the corner of her eye she saw Giselle lift a phone to her ear.

“Alex!” Giselle answered, her voice warm and sweet as honey.

Loren’s stomach clenched in excitement and she waited for Giselle to hand the phone over to her so she could speak with him herself.

“Yes, I have your future bride here in the car. I expect we’ll be at the castillo in about half an hour.” She cocked her head to one side and smiled as she listened. “Fine. Yes. I’ll let her know.”

Giselle flipped the phone shut and gave Loren a smile. “Alex sends his apologies but he won’t be able to meet with you until this evening. Business, you understand.”

If Loren wasn’t mistaken, there was a distinct hint of smugness in the other woman’s glittering emerald gaze. She swallowed her disappointment. Not for anything would she yield so far as to display even one hint of weakness, no matter how bitter the pill that Alex couldn’t spare even a few minutes to greet her on her first day here.

“Of course. I look forward to the opportunity to have a little rest and freshen up before I see him.” Loren smiled in return, summoning a bravado she hoped she could pull off. “Besides, Alex and I have the rest of our lives together. What’re a few more hours?”

Alex put down his office phone and stared out the window. It looked down and over the sprawling luxury waterfront resort that was his main concern in the management of the del Castillo financial empire. From his position, it looked beautiful and peaceful, but appearances could be deceiving.

A matter between two of his key management staff that he’d thought Giselle had settled weeks ago had flared up again today with no apparent warning. He sighed. There was no accounting for personalities and how people could either rub along together or end up rubbing one another entirely the wrong way. Add to that the constant harping on about the wretched governess’s curse, both in the media and in the whispers among the staff—suffice it to say that the sooner this wedding was done and Loren was pregnant with his child, the better.

How a nation of well-educated and forward-thinking people could remain so superstitious defied belief. The legend of the governess and her curse on the del Castillo family when she was spurned by her lover was just that. A legend. There was no proof. Even the media interest he himself had encouraged had turned into a two-headed beast he could barely tolerate. Giselle had been an enormous help, always stepping in to deflect questions away from him so she could handle them herself.

And she had come to his aid again today. In the face of the urgency in dealing with today’s debacle, her calm suggestion that she collect Loren from the airport had been welcome. Giselle was a consummate professional.

He knew she’d make Loren feel at home and get her comfortably settled at the castillo.

If he’d gone to get her, the press would never have let them leave. They’d still be there, posing for pictures, answering questions—wasting time that could be better spent letting Loren unwind after her flight and letting Alex get this administrative headache straightened out. It would be much better for Alex to spend time with her tonight, at the quiet family dinner he’d organized with his brothers and his grandfather, and no press around to badger them.

He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of his grandfather’s excitement over their planned dinner. Abuelo’s reaction when told that Loren would be returning to Isla Sagrado as his future bride had been worth the time away from the problems at the resort to visit with her.

He thought back to when he’d broken his brief liaison with Giselle. She’d pouted a little but had taken his decision, and the diamond tennis bracelet he’d bought her as a severance gift, with good grace and assured him her efficiency in her work would continue. And she’d reiterated her willingness to take up where they’d left off should he ever change his mind.

Until he’d seen Loren again, he’d given Giselle’s offer some serious thought. After all, once he’d married and met Abuelo’s concerns by ensuring the next del Castillo generation would be born, why shouldn’t he have some fun? But, despite the clinical manner in which he’d imagined this alliance would go forth, from the second his lips had touched Loren’s there had been something about her that had pushed Giselle’s offer right out of his mind.

That Loren was unschooled in the ways of love was clear, but how unschooled? The thought that she might be a virgin both intrigued and enticed him. To be her first lover, to unlock the sensual creature he’d tasted in that first kiss? Oh yes, there were definitely aspects of his marriage to Loren Dubois that he found himself looking forward to far more than he’d anticipated. Now, if he was going to enjoy any time with Loren later today he needed to catch up with his work here at the resort. Fortunes didn’t make themselves—legend or no.

By the time Giselle returned to the office he was entrenched in his work. He lifted his head only briefly when she came in with some papers.

“I hope Loren didn’t mind I couldn’t be there to greet her. Is she all settled now at the castillo?” he asked, scoring his signature across the letters she leaned over to place on his desk.

“Of course she minded you weren’t there. Wouldn’t any woman?”

Giselle laughed, but he noticed her smile did not quite reach her eyes.

Her fragrance, as heady and sensual as the woman herself, wove around him. But rather than the usual reaction it evoked in him—an anticipation of pleasurable things to come—he was reminded instead of the contrast between his assistant’s overt sexuality and Loren’s more subtle blend of allure. For some perverse reason, the latter was now far more appealing.

“And yes, in answer to your question, I made sure she was completely comfortable in her suite,” Giselle answered. “Although she did seem very weary from her travel.”

“Too tired for the dinner with Abuelo tonight, do you think?”

“Well, obviously I can’t speak for her but, yes, she did look rather shattered. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she slept all the way through until morning.”

Alex furrowed his brow in a frown. Until morning? That wouldn’t do. Abuelo was looking forward to renewing his acquaintance with the daughter of the man who’d been his son’s best friend for so many years. An edge of irritation slid under his skin at the thought that Loren would prefer to sleep rather than spend the evening with him. Alex had planned to present her with the del Castillo betrothal ring tonight. The official seal of their engagement. 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.