Married for revenge…

But is she the key to the Spaniard’s redemption?

Seeking vengeance, billionaire Gabriel isn’t above stealing his rival’s fiancée for himself! His plan seems complete when, to support her struggling mother, sweet, penniless Leonora agrees to his ruthless proposal. But at his luxury villa, he’s blindsided by their powerful attraction—and her innocence!

Gabriel only offers passion, but behind his arrogant pride, Leonora discovers his loyalty matches her own. She sees the honorable man Gabriel could be, if he’s prepared to give her more than just pleasure…

Irish author ABBY GREEN ended a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com or email abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.

Also by Abby Green

Awakened by Her Desert Captor

An Heir to Make a Marriage

Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins

The Virgin’s Debt to Pay

Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret

Awakened by the Scarred Italian

Brides for Billionaires collection

Married for the Tycoon’s Empire

Rival Spanish Brothers miniseries

Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

Rulers of the Desert miniseries

A Diamond for the Sheikh’s Mistress

A Christmas Bride for the King

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Redeemed by His Stolen Bride

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09784-0

REDEEMED BY HIS STOLEN BRIDE

© 2019 Abby Green

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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This is for Heidi Rice, who came up with

the idea of giving the jilted fiancée from

Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella her own story. X

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

LEONORA FLORES DE LA VEGA couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the man standing at the back of the crowd in the glittering ballroom. He towered over everyone around him, putting him at well over six feet.

He was also scowling, which only made his hawkish good looks even more forbidding and intimidating. And even from here Leonora was aware of his sheer masculine magnetism. As if there was an invisible thread tugging her attention to him whether she liked it or not.

She knew who Gabriel Ortega Cruz y Torres was. Everyone did. He came from one of Spain’s most noble and oldest families. They owned huge swathes of the country and generated an income from banking, vineyards and real estate—just to name a few enterprises.

He was an intensely private man, but even so he had a reputation for being as ruthless in the bedroom as he was in business. Single, he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe, if not the world. But he appeared to be in no hurry to settle down. And when he did it would be with an undeniably well-connected woman who breathed the same rarefied air as he did.

And why should that even concern her? Leonora chastised herself. She might come from a family almost as well-connected as Gabriel’s, but there the similarity ended. Her family had lost their fortune, and had been subsisting on scraps and the funds from opening up their castillo just outside Madrid. It was an ignominious state of affairs. And one that was becoming increasingly unsustainable.

She had never spoken to Gabriel Torres and was never likely to. A man like him wouldn’t lower himself to consort with someone from a family of very faded glory. But she’d always been aware of him. From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him when he’d been about twenty-one and she’d been twelve. She’d watched him play polo—that had been before her family had lost everything due to her father’s gambling habit, a long-standing source of shame that had kept her parents from venturing out in public for years.

She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Gabriel that day. He’d been so vital. So alive. He and the horse had moved as one, with awesome athleticism and grace. But it had been the expression on his face that had caught her—so intense and focused.

She’d overheard one of the opposing team say, ‘Hey, Torres, lighten up. It’s just a friendly game.’

He’d said nothing, just glowered at the man. Leonora could remember feeling an ache near her heart, as if she’d wanted to soothe him somehow…make him smile.

Which was ridiculous.

She became aware of the hubbub in the ballroom. Of the hundreds of eyes looking at her. And suddenly she came out of her reverie and back into the present moment. A moment that was going to change her life for ever.

A spurt of panic clutched at her gut and she breathed through it.

She was doing this for her family. For Matías. She had no choice. She was their only hope of redemption.

A light sweat broke out on her palms as she forced her gaze away from the man at the back of the room and found the man she should be looking at. Her fiancé. Lazaro Sanchez. He was devilishly handsome, with overlong dark blond hair and mesmerisingly unusual green eyes. Tall. He was almost as tall as—

She shook her head briefly. No. She had to stop thinking about him. She was about to become engaged to this man. This man she hardly knew, if she was honest. They’d had some dates. She didn’t feel anything when she looked at him. Not like…him.

But Lazaro was kind and respectful. And, more importantly, he was prepared to bail her family out of their quagmire of debts and in so doing restore their respectability and secure Matías’s future. In return… Well, Leonora was cynical enough to recognise ruthless ambition when she saw it. Lazaro Sanchez wanted to marry her in order to achieve a level of acceptance into the world she inhabited. Her only currency now was as a trophy to someone like him and she had no choice but to accept it.

She noticed then that Lazaro had a glowering expression on his face, not unlike the one on Gabriel Torres’s. Something about that caught in Leonora’s mind, but before she could unpick what it meant she realised that one of Lazaro’s staff was making a motion, as if to say, It’s time.

She tried to get his attention, ‘Lazaro?’

He looked at her. Still glowering.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You look very fierce.’

His expression cleared. He held out a hand and she slipped hers into his. Nothing. No effect. She berated herself again. People in this world didn’t marry for love or chemistry. They married strategically. Exactly as she was doing.

‘Yes, fine…just a little preoccupied,’ he said.

Unable to help herself, Leonora glanced back across the room, and this time Gabriel Torres’s dark, compelling gaze met hers. A flash of heat went straight through her abdomen. Her fingers tightened reflexively around Lazaro’s.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her.

A surge of guilt blasted her. How could she be so compelled by another man when she was about to commit publicly to this one? She looked at Lazaro and forced a smile. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

His hand tightened around hers. ‘I’m glad you have agreed to marry me, Leonora. I think we can have a good marriage, I think we can be…happy.’

Did he?

A semi-hysterical bubble rose up inside her. She had a sense of the massive room closing in around her, suffocating her. Lazaro let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. The feeling of claustrophobia got worse.

His hand tightened on her waist, almost painfully, and Leonora hissed at him. ‘Lazaro—’

He looked at her with a strange expression on his face, his eyes burning.

‘You’re hurting me.’

Immediately he released his grip. ‘I’m sorry.’

Leonora forced a smile. The sooner they got this announcement over with, the sooner she could get out of this room and get some air. She resolutely forced herself to keep her eyes averted from where Gabriel Torres stood, towering over everyone else around him. Powerful. Magnetic. Disturbing.

A waiter approached with champagne and she took two glasses, handing one to Lazaro. She saw movement nearby and said, ‘Your advisors are making motions that it’s time to make the announcement. Ready?’

Lazaro looked at her, and she clung to the resolve she could see in his eyes.

He clinked his glass to hers. ‘Yes, let’s do it.’

He put his arm around her waist again and Leonora forced a smile through the lingering claustrophobia. He started speaking, but she didn’t really take in his words, letting them roll over her.

Against every effort, her eye was drawn back across the crowd to where Gabriel Torres stood. He was still watching her, with a disconcertingly intense gaze. Leonora started to tremble lightly under the force of it.

Suddenly a voice rang out. ‘Wait! Stop!’

It shook Leonora out of her trance. It was a woman, who’d pushed through the crowd near the dais. She was being held back by security guards. She was dressed like the wait staff, in a white shirt and black skirt. Vibrant red hair, up in a bun. She was very pretty. Bright blue eyes.

She was looking at Lazaro, and then she said, ‘You need to know something. I’m pregnant. With your child.’

For long seconds time was suspended, and then everything seemed to go into slow motion as Leonora felt Lazaro’s arm leave her waist. She watched as the woman said something else, not hearing what it was through the buzzing in her head.

Lazaro stepped down off the dais to talk to the woman, holding her arm. She looked very petite next to him. Vaguely, ridiculously, Leonora appreciated that they looked good together.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, and then the woman was being led away.

Lazaro turned back to look at her, his expression veering between shock, anger and contrition.

He came back up on to the dais and said something to the crowd—she wasn’t sure what. Too many feelings were rolling over her—chief of which, she was ashamed to admit, was a sense of relief. But that was quickly eclipsed when she looked around and saw the crowd whispering. Some people were looking at her with pity and others with something far less benign. A malicious glee at the fall of one of their own.

She’d tried to buy her way out of debt and shame and now she felt as exposed as if she were naked. And he was still there. At the back. Looking at her with a grim expression.

She turned away and saw Lazaro. She backed away and then she stopped. Maybe this was just some hideous case of mistaken identity.

‘Is it true?’

But Lazaro said nothing, and his silence said everything.

He looked guilty.

He held out a hand. ‘Leonora, please…let me explain.’

It was real.

She became aware of the burn of humiliation. She shook her head. ‘I can’t agree to marry you. Not now.’

She sent up a silent thank you that her parents weren’t there to witness this moment. Or Matías. He would see that she was upset and that would upset him.

She cast a look around, instinctively seeking an escape route. All she saw were judgemental eyes. Mocking eyes.

She looked at Lazaro for one last time, dismay and humiliation scoring her insides like a knife. ‘How could you do this to me? In front of all these people?’

Without waiting for a response, she put her glass down on the nearest surface and turned and fled, making for the nearest exit with no clue where to go.

The first thing she saw was a Ladies’ sign, and she followed it to the bathroom, which was mercifully empty. She locked herself into a stall and sat down on the closed toilet.

She was trembling, her heart pounding. She forced herself to take deep breaths, and just as she was starting to feel marginally calmer the door opened. It sounded as if at least three women were coming in, all chattering. About her and Lazaro.

‘Who’d marry her now? She’s so desperate she was willing to marry some nouveau riche billionaire…’

‘Where did Sanchez even come from?’

‘Some say he grew up on the streets.’

‘The de la Vegas can’t survive this. All they have is her and that brother of hers, who everyone knows is a—’

At the mention of Leonora’s beloved brother she opened the door and stepped out of the stall, coming face-to-face with the three gossipers. The chatter stopped instantly.

One blanched, one went red, but the other one was totally unrepentant. Leonora was too upset to speak. She just watched as they collected their things and walked out in silence, taking no sense of satisfaction in having routed them because she knew they’d only start gossiping again as soon as they were out of earshot.

She went over to the sink and put her hands on the counter, looking at herself in the mirror but only vaguely registering that her outward appearance—relatively calm—belied the storm inside. She could only give thanks that the women hadn’t witnessed her falling apart.

She took a deep breath and ran some cold water over her hands and wrists. She hoped that by the time she emerged there would be no one else waiting to witness her walk of shame.

At that instant a face popped into her head. Gabriel Torres. His hawk-like features were as vivid as if he were standing in front of her. She went hot and then cold at the thought of him having witnessed her public humiliation.

But she wouldn’t see him again. Because she wouldn’t be emerging in public for a long time.

She took a breath and steeled herself before heading back out and into the lobby, hoping for a discreet getaway.

Where was she?

Gabriel Torres looked left and right outside the function room, but there was no sign of the dark-haired woman in the long strapless red dress. The dress that clung to her elegant curves in a way that had made his blood pound for the first time in a long time. The compulsion to follow her prickled over his skin now; he wasn’t someone normally given to such impetuosity.

He had only come here this evening to see for himself what Lazaro Sanchez was up to, because he didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him. Especially when everything he did seemed to be designed personally to get under Gabriel’s skin. And because they were both involved in a very competitive and lucrative bid for a public project.

Recently Sanchez had even gone so far as to concoct a story that he and Gabriel were half-brothers. He’d accosted Gabriel at an event they’d both attended and when Gabriel had tried to walk away, disgusted at the insinuation that they could be related, Sanchez had stopped him, telling him of a day, many years before, when he had confronted Gabriel’s father, claiming to be his son.

To Gabriel’s surprise and shock he’d remembered the incident—and the skinny kid who had been waiting for them outside a restaurant in central Madrid. It had been his birthday—one of the very rare occasions when his dysfunctional family had put on a united front.

Gabriel had never been naïve about either of his parents. It was quite possible that his serially philandering father might have sired a bastard along the way. For a family like the Cruz y Torres, whose vast dynasty stretched back to the Middle Ages, such occurrences by opportunists were frequent and, frankly, to be expected.

So, for all he knew, Sanchez could be his brother but he suspected it was more likely to be a ruse to get under Gabriel’s skin.

Ironically enough, Gabriel’s father was at this event too, this evening, but Gabriel had ignored him. They barely tolerated each other at the best of times, and he’d had no doubt that the only reason his father had been there was probably the free-flowing booze or a woman.

Since Sanchez’s claim to be related to Gabriel, he’d been kept at a certain distance. But tonight had been one of his most audacious moves yet: announcing his engagement to one of Spain’s most well-connected women, whose own family rivalled Gabriel’s in lineage and legacy.

Marriage to someone like Leonora Flores de la Vega would elevate Sanchez to a place that would make it that much harder to ignore him. Gabriel had to hand it to him for sheer chutzpah.

Clearly he hadn’t been intending on marrying Leonora Flores for her money—her family were famously broke after her father’s well-documented gambling problems. Her worth came in her name and lineage.

Gabriel had heard the whispers in the crowd. Whispers that Sanchez had offered her a deal—he’d pay off her family debts and in return buy his way into the world he was so desperate to be a part of that he claimed to be Gabriel’s blood relation.

Gabriel didn’t know Leonora personally, but he knew of her, and their paths had crossed over the years at social events. But coming here this evening, seeing her standing up on that dais beside Sanchez, had reminded him that there was something about her that had always snagged his attention. He’d noticed it again this evening. Enough to distract him from Lazaro Sanchez.

Her beautiful face had been composed. Revealing nothing. Her long dark hair pulled back and sleek, showing off the exquisite bone structure of her face. Wide almond-shaped eyes. Dark lashes. A full mouth that hinted at a level of sensuality Gabriel sensed she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

He’d racked his brains to think of the last time he’d seen her. It hadn’t been recent. She’d grown up in the meantime. Now she was a woman—and a stunningly beautiful woman at that.

Gabriel had found himself staring at her, willing her to look at him, needing her to look at him. And then she had. He’d felt the impact of that contact from across the room. An instantaneous jolt of sexual awareness surging through his blood.

She’d kept on looking at Gabriel and he’d seen the flicker of panic in her eyes. Along with something else far more potent.

She wanted him.

That awareness, together with seeing Sanchez’s arm around her waist, had caught at something unexpected inside Gabriel. Something hot and visceral. A sense of…possessiveness.

When Sanchez had announced their engagement, Gabriel had felt an inexplicable and almost overwhelming urge to disrupt proceedings, but just at that moment another voice had rung out. A voice coming from the petite red-haired woman near the dais, claiming to be pregnant with Sanchez’s child.

Leonora had fled, and Gabriel had watched her go, knowing immediately that he would go after her. He’d never felt such a primal pull towards anyone.

He’d looked at Sanchez and the animosity he’d felt towards the man had compelled him to mock him for his abortive attempt to buy respectability and for bringing his domestic dramas into the public domain.

But all thoughts of Sanchez were gone now, as he looked left and right for Leonora Flores.

She was gone.

An alien sensation stopped Gabriel in his tracks and he realised it was the sensation of something having slipped through his fingers.

For a man who generally obtained his every want and desire, it was unwelcome. And an unpleasant reminder that he was acting out of character. Pursuing a woman when he didn’t need to. If he wanted a woman that badly he could walk back into the room behind him and take his pick. But a new restlessness prickled under his skin. He didn’t want one of them. So eager, so desperate. He wanted her.

And then, as if answering his silent call, he saw her, standing behind the elaborate foliage screening the lobby and entrance from the rest of the hotel. He saw what she saw: a bank of waiting paparazzi outside the main door of the hotel, and no other means of escape.

There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight again. And if the opportunity presented itself to remind Sanchez of where he belonged, Gabriel would be a fool not to exploit it.

Leonora cursed silently. Between the fronds of the exotic plant she could see where the photographers were lined up, no doubt ready to capture the smiling couple emerging from the hotel. There was no other way out without going through the lobby. One way or another they would see her, either scuttling away as if she was the one in the wrong, or walking out without her new fiancé.

Just as she was steeling herself to run the gauntlet, she felt the back of her neck prickle with awareness and her skin tingled all over.

She turned around and Gabriel Ortega Cruz y Torres was standing a couple of feet away, looking at her. She gulped. He was even taller up close. Broader. Thick dark hair swept back off his forehead. Deep-set dark eyes. Strong brows. A patrician nose and a firm, unyielding mouth.

His bottom lip was surprisingly lush, though, softening the hard edges of his face and making her wonder what it would feel like to touch…kiss… She could imagine him lounging on jewel-coloured cushions, summoning his minions.

Summoning his lovers.

A wave of heat flashed through her body. She was losing it. She never imagined kissing men. She was a twenty-four-year-old virgin, because her life had revolved around her parents, the castle and her disabled brother. She’d been more of a mother than a sister to her brother, since their world had imploded after her father’s gambling excesses. She’d literally had no time for anything else. Anything normal. Like relationships.

Before she could even think of something to say Gabriel came forward and his scent reached her nostrils, sharp and infinitely masculine. Exotic.

‘Would you like me to get you out of here?’

His voice was deep and compelling.

Leonora’s response was swift and instinctive. She nodded.

‘We’ll go out through the main entrance. Don’t look left or right, just let me guide you.’

He plucked something out of his pocket and Leonora saw that it was a phone. He issued a curt instruction and put the phone back, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘My car is outside. Let’s go.’

Before Leonora knew what was happening Gabriel Torres had taken her elbow in his hand and they were already halfway across the lobby. Flashes erupted from outside, and as soon as they got through the doors there was a barrage of noise and calls.

‘Leonora! Where’s Lazaro Sanchez?’

Leonora ignored it all and followed Gabriel’s instructions, looking straight ahead.

A sleek low-slung silver bullet of a car was parked by the kerb and the doorman sprang aside as Gabriel helped her into the front passenger seat. The door was shut, cocooning her in expensive leather and metal and blissful silence, which was only broken briefly when Gabriel came around to the driver’s side and opened the door, settling himself into the car.

Within seconds they were moving through the throng of press, who had to part to let them through. Leonora flinched at the bright flashes from their cameras as the paparazzi pressed cameras up to the window to get their shots.

‘I should have tried to leave through a back entrance. I’ll be on every front page tomorrow.’

She felt Gabriel glance at her. ‘Why should you? You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’

Leonora’s heart was pounding. She saw Gabriel’s hand work the gearstick. Square-shaped long fingers. Short, blunt nails. Masculine.

Her lower body clenched.

‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she said.

Her voice was husky. She looked at Gabriel, whose jaw was tight.

‘It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have been thrown to the wolves like that.’

She got the impression that he was angry. On her behalf. She barely knew him. Her relief at being out of that situation was taking the edges off her own anger at Lazaro.

‘Well…thank you.’

She noticed then that they were driving through one of Madrid’s exclusive city enclaves. Leafy streets and chic cosmopolitan bars and restaurants. Expensive antique shops and designer boutiques. Elegant buildings mixed with new architecture.

Feeling embarrassed now, and thinking that Gabriel might be regretting his good deed, Leonora said, ‘You really don’t have to take me home. I’m the other way, anyway. I can jump out here and get a taxi.’

He shook his head and glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Not if you don’t want them to follow you home, you can’t.’

Leonora looked behind them and saw a couple of motorbikes weaving in and out of traffic, following them. Her heart sank at the thought of them outside the family estate. If Matías saw them he’d get confused and upset…

At that moment Gabriel said, ‘Hang on,’ and then surged ahead as a traffic light turned to red. He negotiated a couple of rapid turns down dark side streets that had Leonora’s heart jumping into her throat, but at no point did she feel unsafe. It was exhilarating.

With the next turn into a quiet residential street Leonora sucked in a breath. It looked as if they were going to drive straight into a wall, but it quickly revealed itself to be a door that opened and allowed them entry down into a private garage under the building.

Gabriel pulled to a stop beside a row of equally sleek cars. ‘I think we lost them at the last traffic lights.’

Silence descended around them. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

‘At my city apartment. You can wait here for a bit—let them lose you. I’ll organise for you to get home later. If you want.’

If you want.

Leonora looked at Gabriel, still reeling at everything that had happened and at the fact that he was her rescuer. His eyes were on her, dark and unreadable, and yet she felt as if some silent communication was taking place. Something she didn’t understand fully. Or didn’t want to investigate fully.

‘Okay…if you’re sure. I don’t want to bother you.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re not bothering me. Don’t worry.’

He undid his seat-belt and uncoiled his tall frame from the car. He came around and opened her door and held out a hand.

Leonora almost didn’t want to touch him, afraid of how she’d react. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her elbow. But she couldn’t dither, so she put her hand in his and let him pull her out. And she’d been right to be afraid, because a jolt of electricity ran up her arm and right down into her core.

By the time she straightened up she was breathless. And she was so close to Gabriel that one more step would bring her flush with his body. She could sense the whipcord strength beneath his bespoke suit. Her eye line rested just below his bowtie.

His hand wrapped around hers. ‘Okay?’

She looked up and forced a smile, trying not to be intimidated by the sheer masculine beauty of the man. His proximity. ‘Fine… Just a bit shaky after the paparazzi. Normally I don’t register on their radar.’

Not the way this man did. He was slavishly followed and speculated upon by press eager to get a story on the reclusive billionaire. She thought of the papers tomorrow. Her head hurt at the prospect of her parents’ reaction. They were depending on her to redeem the family name and finances, not to embroil them in another scandal.

Gabriel let her hand go and Leonora suddenly realised something with dismay. ‘My bag and coat!’

Lazaro had arranged for someone to take them to the cloakroom at the hotel.

Gabriel said, ‘Come upstairs and I’ll arrange for them to be delivered here.’

He opened a door that led out into a dimly lit foyer. A security guard stepped into the light. ‘Good evening, Señor Torres.’

‘Good evening, Pancho. One of my team will be delivering something shortly. Let them in and send it up, please.’

‘Of course, sir.’

Gabriel put his hand on Leonora’s back, guiding her with a barely perceptible touch over to an elevator. Even so, she could feel his hand through her dress, and had the ridiculous urge to sink back against him, let him take her weight.

It unnerved her how much he made her feel, so she stood apart from him in the small space as the doors slid shut and he pressed a button. It rose silently and stopped a few seconds later with a small jerking motion.

The doors slid open and Gabriel put out a hand, indicating for Leonora to precede him. She stepped out and into a stunning penthouse apartment. It had all the original features of the building’s era—around the nineteenth century, Leonora guessed—but none of the fussiness.

It was a very contemporary apartment in the shell of one of Madrid’s classic buildings. Modern art hung on the walls, with spotlights directing the eye to bold slashing strokes and colours. Surprisingly sensual. Something about the design—the lack of clutter, the open spaces—soothed her. The furniture was deceptively plain and unobtrusive, letting the interior speak for itself. She’d never seen anything quite like it.

She watched as Gabriel strode over to French doors, opening them to let some air in. Leonora only realised then how close it was. The late-summer city heat was still oppressive. He took his phone out of his pocket and made a call, speaking in low tones. She assumed he was arranging to have her things collected.

He turned around to face her then, tugging at his bowtie, undoing it. Opening the top button of his shirt. She almost looked away, feeling as if she was intruding on some intimacy.

He gestured with a hand to a couch. ‘Please—sit, make yourself comfortable…’

Leonora stepped further into the room, feeling naked without her wrap or bag. ‘I’m fine, thank you. You have a beautiful apartment.’

No doubt it was just one of the hundreds of properties owned by him and his family all over Spain and the world.

It was well known that he was seen very much as the patriarch of his family, even though his father was still alive. And Leonora was vaguely aware of a rumour about his younger sister going off the rails and how she’d been sent abroad to clean up her act.

She shivered slightly at the thought of what it must be like to face a disapproving or angry Gabriel Torres. She didn’t even know his sister, or if the rumour was true, but she already felt sorry for her.

‘Would you like a drink?’ He walked over to an elaborate drinks cabinet. ‘I have whiskey, brandy, champagne, wine, gin—’

‘I’ll have a little whiskey please,’ she blurted out, needing something to settle her clanging nerves.

He poured dark golden liquid into a small tumbler and brought it over to her. ‘It’s Irish. I believe it’s meant to be very good.’

Leonora took it, distracted by the bowtie dangling at his neck and the open top button of his shirt. She could see dark bronzed skin. A hint of hair.

‘You haven’t tasted it?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t drink.’

She watched as he moved back, giving her space. It fitted that he didn’t drink. He seemed far too controlled. Exacting. Alert. She wondered why he didn’t, but wasn’t going to ask.

As if he could read her mind, though, he supplied, ‘I was put off after watching how alcohol affected people’s judgement and their decision-making. Not least my father’s. He almost ruined the family business.’

So that was why Gabriel now ran their extensive operation.

‘I’m sorry to hear that…’ Impulsively she added, ‘I have some idea of what you’re talking about.’

She wondered why she’d said that, but there was something about being in this space with this man that didn’t feel entirely real.

To her relief he didn’t say anything, or ask her to elaborate on the fact that her father’s vices had driven them to the brink and over. Anyway, he probably knew the sordid details. Most people did. But for the first time she didn’t feel that burning rise of shame. Maybe it was his admission that his family wasn’t perfect either.

He said, ‘I’m sorry for what happened to you this evening. You didn’t deserve that. You’re too good for a man like Lazaro Sanchez.’

Leonora clutched the tumbler to her chest. She’d yet to take a sip of the drink. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. And how can you say I’m too good for him? You don’t even know me.’

‘Don’t I?’ he asked softly, raising a dark brow. ‘We come from the same world, Leonora. We might not have had a conversation before now, but we know more about each other than you realise—and I’m not talking about idle gossip. I’m talking about the lives we’ve led. The expectations on our shoulders. The life built on legacy and duty. Responsibility.’

CHAPTER TWO

GABRIEL MARVELLED AT how expressive Leonora was. She clearly hadn’t expected him to say that. He’d caught her unawares. Her eyes were wide on his, as if he’d shocked her.

He realised now that they weren’t dark brown, as he’d assumed. They were grey. Like a stormy ocean. But even as he had that fanciful notion she seemed to come back to herself and her face resumed its serene mask. The same one she’d been wearing earlier, standing beside Lazaro Sanchez. Before all hell had broken loose.

She took a sip of her drink and he noticed her hand wasn’t entirely steady. He had to clench his fist to stop from reaching out and taking her hand in his. He saw her throat work as she swallowed and he imagined the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down into her stomach, radiating heat. Mirroring the heat he felt in his blood.

Dios, but she was stunning. Possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And she was getting to him in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. Usually when he desired a woman it was a manageable thing. Right now it was taking all his restraint not to seduce Leonora to within an inch of her life and demand the satisfaction his body was crying out for. A kind of satisfaction that he knew instinctively would eclipse anything he’d ever experienced before.

He stepped back and gestured to a nearby couch. ‘Please, sit down. Your things should be here soon.’

For a long moment Leonora couldn’t move. She was still in shock at how succinctly Gabriel had summed up her existence.

‘The lives we’ve led… The expectations on our shoulders… The life built on legacy and duty. Responsibility.’

She’d never felt that anyone could possibly understand what her life was like. She had very little to complain about and yet sometimes she felt as trapped as if she was in jail.

He was looking at her. He’d just asked if she wanted to sit down.

She shook her head jerkily. ‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’

She felt restless, and she walked over to where floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a terrace and further, to the skyline of Madrid under a clear starlit sky. She had a very fleeting moment of wondering what Lazaro was doing right now. Dealing with the mother of his child?

A tiny sense of hysteria at what had happened rose up and she took another hasty sip of whiskey to try and force it back down.

Gabriel came to stand near her. She could see him in the reflection of the window. He’d taken off his jacket and his chest and shoulders looked impossibly broad under the snowy shirt.

She saw her own reflection. The strapless red dress. She’d hoped its elegant simplicity would prove to be timeless, because it was many seasons out of date. She saw the glittering drop earrings hanging from her earlobes that looked like diamonds. But they weren’t diamonds at all. They were cubic zirconia. It was a long time since she’d worn any real family jewels. They’d all been sold by her father to get money for gambling.

She felt like a fraud, and the humiliation from earlier rose up again. She quickly downed the last of her drink, guiltily relishing the last dregs of comfort from the alcohol.

She turned to face Gabriel, avoiding his eye. ‘I should leave—go home. My mother and father will be worried.’

And Matías.

Just thinking of him made her heart hurt. What would happen to them now? If they lost the castle then that was it. They would have hit rock bottom with no way back. An entire dynasty and legacy wiped out through the actions of her father…

‘Don’t go yet.’

She looked at Gabriel. Her heart thumped hard. His face was all lean angles and harsh lines. And then softened by that ridiculously sensual mouth.

‘We’re still waiting for your things.’

Leonora was torn. She wanted to appear totally at ease and sophisticated, draping herself artfully on one of the sofas while wittily regaling Gabriel with inconsequential chatter. But that wasn’t her. Had never been her.

‘I can get them tomorrow. They’re not that important.’

She felt that the longer she stood there the quicker he’d see that he was having an effect on her.

He came closer and moved to take the empty glass from her hand. He put his fingers over hers. A deliberate move? The breath stuck in her throat. He was so…vital. Lazaro had never had this effect on her and she’d believed that it would make for a better marriage. No extreme feelings or wants.

Gabriel said, ‘The paparazzi will know for sure by now that your engagement wasn’t announced. They’ll be actively hunting you down. Waiting for you. You should call your parents—warn them to stay inside.’

Leonora swallowed. Gabriel’s fingers were still on hers. ‘But I can’t just…stay here.’

‘Of course you can.’ He took the glass out of her nerveless fingers and in the same motion, with his other hand, he handed her his phone. ‘Use this.’

It seemed to be a foregone conclusion. And she knew he was right. She couldn’t go back home now and face a barrage of lights and questions. Out of concern for Matías as much as anything else.

Leonora moved away from Gabriel and dialled her home number. Her mother answered, immediately concerned, and Leonora rushed to assure her that everything was okay. She filled her in on the broad strokes of what had happened and told her not to worry. She told her that she’d spend the night elsewhere, to draw the press away from the de la Vega home. Her mother sounded disappointed—and then just weary. They’d been here before, with the press camped outside.

When she’d ended the conversation, after checking that Matías was okay, Leonora handed the phone back.

Gabriel said, ‘Your brother is not well?’

Leonora gave a small tight smile. ‘He has…learning difficulties. Since birth. He’s home at the moment—from the school he attends just outside Madrid.’

The school that was paid for out of the receipts from tours around the Flores de la Vega castle. And with the money from the designer clothes and jewellery Leonora sold over the years online. The school that he loved and thrived in. The school that was offering him a real chance at a life in the outside world as he moved into adulthood.

The school that they would no longer be able to afford if they had to sell the castle—the only thing keeping them afloat in a sea of debts.

‘He picks up on moods and tension very acutely, so he’d be upset if he knew the press were outside, or if there was anything wrong with me.’

‘You’re close?’

Leonora looked at Gabriel, expecting to see the same look most people had when they heard about Matías, varying between mild disdain and salacious curiosity. Or pity. But Gabriel’s face and eyes held none of those things. Just a genuine question.

She nodded, feeling emotional. ‘The closest. He’s eighteen now, and when he was born I was six. He was like my baby more than my little brother.’

‘That would have been before your fortunes…changed.’

Leonora appreciated his attempt at tact. He was obviously referring to the fact that her parents had once been such fixtures on the Spanish social scene that they probably hadn’t been around much to parent. Making their fall from grace even more explosive. They’d gone down in a ball of flames and infamy when her father had been thrown out of the casino in Monte Carlo with his wife clinging to his coat, weeping uncontrollably.

That was one of the reasons for their reclusiveness these days. Her parents’ shame. Hence their desire and need for redemption. Through Leonora.

She diverted her mind from that and said, ‘Something like that. Yes.’ She looked away, embarrassed.

‘That was them—not you. You’re not like them.’

Leonora looked at him. Had he moved closer? The way he made her feel—the way he seemed to be looking deeper into her than anyone else ever had—made her prickly.

‘You don’t know that I don’t have a gambling habit.’

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he said, ‘True, I don’t. But I don’t believe you do.’

He was definitely closer now. Close enough for Leonora to see the stubble lining his jaw. And that his eyes had golden flecks—they weren’t just brown.

She shook her head. ‘Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me? We’ve never met before this evening. I mean…not properly.’

Even with Leonora’s family connections they’d moved in a lesser sphere than the Torres family.

‘No. But our paths have crossed—even if just peripherally. I realised something this evening—I have always noticed you…on the edges. As if you’d prefer to disappear.’

Leonora blushed to think she’d been so transparent.

‘And I realised something else.’

She looked at him.

‘You have become a very beautiful woman.’

A tingling rush of heat coursed through her blood. The way he was looking at her was so…intense. She could almost feel it…as if he was touching her.

He took another step closer. Almost close enough now that she could imagine him bending down and pressing his mouth to hers.

Leonora was barely breathing. She was hot—so hot. All over. Deep down where no man had ever had any effect on her before.

‘I want you, Leonora.’

For a long, suspended moment neither one of them moved. Gabriel was watching her as she struggled to absorb this information. So, all these sensations making her melt from the inside out…it wasn’t just her.

For a second it was too heady to consider. The fact that he thought she was beautiful. And that he wanted her. Her. A woman who lived a more sheltered existence than most nuns.

At that moment there was a chiming sound. Gabriel emitted a curse under his breath and said, ‘Don’t move. That’s the concierge with your things.’

He turned and she watched him walk across the vast room with athletic grace. He disappeared and she heard a door open, low voices. She saw the French doors and suddenly needed—craved—oxygen. She walked outside, drawing in deep lungsful of the night air. The sounds of traffic floating up from nearby streets helped to ground her in reality a little.

What was she doing? Practically falling into Gabriel Torres’s arms after mere words? He was probably just being polite, helping to soothe what he assumed was her damaged ego. But in all honesty relief was her overriding feeling when she thought about Lazaro and the wreckage of their engagement.

It had been an audacious plan in any case—agreeing to marry a man purely for strategic reasons. Because it would benefit them both. It shamed her now. Yet she knew it was silly to feel shame, because her parents’ marriage had been a strategic one. In their world every marriage was a strategic one. Too much was at stake when legacies and dynasties had to be passed down to the next generation for emotion to be involved in making a marriage.

The fact that her parents got on and had some affection for each other was just a bonus. It had helped them weather the storm of infamy and their son’s vulnerabilities.

But Leonora—much to her eternal embarrassment—had always secretly harboured a desire for more. For a real relationship. For love. Happiness. She saw visiting tourist couples walking through the castle and its grounds, sharing kisses, holding hands. Whispering things to each other.

She’d met an old English couple, married for fifty years. They’d exuded such an aura of contentment and happiness. She knew what they had was rare, but not unobtainable. For normal people. Not for her.

When Lazaro Sanchez had shown an interest and taken her on a few dates, and when he’d put forward his proposal and the fact that he was offering to pull them out of their quagmire of debts, Leonora had known that she had no choice. She had responsibilities, just as Gabriel had said. The Flores de la Vega legacy was bigger than her secret hopes and dreams for a different life. A more fulfilled life.

‘I want you, Leonora.’

She shivered, even though it wasn’t cold. She shivered with awareness. With desire.

‘I have always noticed you…on the edges. As if you’d prefer to disappear.’

How could a man who was little more than a stranger—no matter how much their worlds might have collided over the years—get her? More than anyone had ever got her before?

She’d never felt seen in her life. She’d hovered on the edges, exactly as he’d described. Out of the innate shyness that she had to work hard to overcome. Out of her concern for Matías, who found social situations very challenging.

And also because she’d never really enjoyed the social scene of their world. It had always reminded her of a medieval royal court, with its intrigue and politics. Petty cruelties. The way so-called friends had treated her and her parents and her brother like pariahs ever since they’d become persona non grata had been a formative lesson in human nature.

Had Gabriel Torres really told her that he wanted her? So bold? So direct?

Yes. He was that kind of man. He would just say what he wanted and expect results.

Leonora looked out over the city stretching before her. Millions of people living their lives. Millions of possibilities.

It was as if she’d stepped out of her life and into an alternative realm. Where anything could happen. She was in a moment out of time. In a place she’d never expected to be. With a man she would never in a million years have expected to know her name. Let alone…desire her.

Unless it wasn’t desire.

It must be pity.

A wave of humiliation rose up through her. Oh, God, was she so desperate that she really believed—?

She heard a noise and tensed to face Gabriel again. She needed to leave. Now.

Gabriel saw the moment Leonora heard him return. Her slim shoulders were suddenly a tense line. He stood behind her, drinking in her graceful figure. The smooth pale olive skin of her back. The sleek dark ponytail that he wanted to wrap around his fist so he could tilt her head back, giving him access to her lush mouth.

He might have started this evening fixated on Lazaro Sanchez, and wondering what the man was up to, but now all he could see was this woman.

‘I have your things.’

She turned around but he noticed that she avoided his eye.

She held out a hand. ‘Thank you. I really should go now. There’s a back entrance into the estate. I can use that. I’m sure they won’t see me.’

Gabriel handed her the wrap and bag, noting how she avoided touching his hand. A novelty when he was used to women throwing themselves at him. Especially if he told them that he wanted them.

‘Are you really willing to take that risk?’

She put her wrap around her shoulders, covering up her skin, crossing it over her chest like a shawl.

Eventually she looked at him. ‘Look, thank you for helping me, but you really don’t need to go out of your way to do any more.’

Gabriel moved closer to her, watching how her eyes flared and colour tinged her cheeks. She wanted him. He knew it.

‘Did you not hear what I said?’

She swallowed. Her fingers clutched her wrap.

For a second the possibility trickled into Gabriel’s mind that she was different from other women he knew in terms of experience, but he batted it away. She was twenty-four. To be inexperienced at her age, with her stunning beauty, in this modern cynical world, was practically an impossibility. Far more likely she was playing him. She knew he wanted her and she was getting off on watching him work to seduce her.

There was little novelty in Gabriel’s world and he suspected it was the same for her. She was hardly a wide-eyed innocent when she’d been about to announce a business arrangement masquerading as a marriage.

‘I want you, Leonora. You felt it too this evening. I saw it.’

She flushed and her eyes were huge. ‘But…we don’t even know each other. How can—?’

‘How can it be possible?’ Gabriel decided he’d indulge her faux innocence. ‘Because chemistry transcends such mundanities.’

Every line in her body was tense.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’

There was a fierce pride in the aristocratic lines of her beautiful face. Her eyes had turned stormy.

‘I don’t need your pity, Gabriel.’

Leonora was resisting the pull she felt to this man with every atom of her being. He was toying with her. He had no clue how inexperienced she was and she wasn’t about to let him expose her any more than she’d already been exposed tonight.

She went to move past him, intent on getting out of there before she could unravel completely, but he caught her hand, stopping her. Heat travelled up her arm. She clenched her jaw.

‘You seriously think I pity you?’

The incredulity in his tone compelled her to face him, her hand still in his. He was frowning. Suddenly she was very aware of their proximity, and of the darkness of his chest under the white shirt.

She swallowed. ‘Maybe you just feel sorry for me…for what happened. You feel some kind of responsibility to make me feel…better.’

Even as she said this out loud she wanted to cringe. It sounded ridiculous.

He shook his head. ‘You give me far too much credit. I’m not that nice. I told you I want you because I meant it. And I believe you want me too. You wanted me even as you stood beside your fiancé.’

Leonora flushed with guilty heat. She tried to pull her hand back but Gabriel didn’t let go. He tugged her closer. She couldn’t breathe.

‘You don’t believe I want you? I can prove to you that I do. And that you want me.’

Leonora knew that if she tugged hard she’d be free. She knew that if she did that, and if she turned and walked away, he wouldn’t stop her. He was too proud for that. Too sophisticated to chase a woman or force her. And yet…she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. That sense of being in a moment outside time, outside of her life, was acute.

As if sensing her vacillation, Gabriel said, ‘Here you are beholden to no one. There’s no duty or responsibility. We’re just two people. A man and a woman who want each other. Who are free to indulge our mutual desire.’

Leonora searched the hard planes of his face, those dark eyes. Was it really that simple? Could it be that simple? Was she free?

She thought of where she would be now if that woman hadn’t interrupted the announcement of her engagement.

She would be in a very similar situation with a man she’d liked, but hadn’t wanted. Maybe he would be kissing her now and she would be feeling nothing, resigning herself to the fact that this was as good as it would get. Because so much more was at stake. The future of her family. Her brother’s security.

She considered the vagaries of fate and timing and how she might not be here at all, how she wouldn’t be feeling this terrifying but exhilarating wildness coursing through her blood right now.

But she was. And it sank in that Gabriel Torres was deadly serious. He wasn’t being nice. Or pitying her. He wanted her. And she wanted him. For one night. One night out of time.

The wildness rushing through her body turned into something far more reckless. Tonight she really was free. Tomorrow she would return to reality and pick up the pieces of her life.

She wanted to seize this moment that fate had handed her. A chance to experience true desire with a man who wanted her for her. Not because of who she was or what her name represented.

Gabriel was watching her. Reading her.

Without saying a word, letting his actions speak for him, he let her hand go and reached for her wrap, tugging it out of her hands, pulling it off her shoulders slowly. The silk trailed across her skin and she shivered minutely at the sensation. She’d never thought of herself as sensual before, but she felt sensual now. Under his gaze.

His eyes not leaving hers, he draped the wrap over the back of a nearby chair and Leonora could see it out of the corner of her eyes, a vivid red splash of colour.

Danger. Passion.

He took her bag out of her hand and put it down. Anticipation built inside her, deep down. Coiling tight. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face.

He said, ‘I’ve told you I want you and I mean it. I haven’t wanted a woman like this in a long time. But you owe me nothing. I brought you here to give you refuge, and my guest suite is at your disposal for as long as you need it. It’s your choice what happens next.’

She let out the breath she’d been holding unconsciously. She hadn’t expected that kind of consideration. And at that moment Leonora almost resented him for not just kissing her and taking the decision out of her hands.

She knew it would be so easy to gather up her wrap and bag and say, No, sorry…not now. But something inside her had bloomed into life and she suspected he knew that very well. Better than she did.

She felt totally out of her depth. Another woman, more experienced, would no doubt be sliding her arms around his neck, pressing herself against every hard muscle of his body. But she felt paralysed with sudden shyness.

Gabriel’s gaze narrowed on her face. He frowned slightly. ‘Leonora, if you don’t want to—’

‘I do,’ she blurted out before she could lose her nerve. ‘I do…want you.’

She stepped closer. They were almost touching. His sheer physicality was overwhelming but it didn’t intimidate her. It excited her.

He put his hands on her arms and tugged her closer. She rested her palms on his chest. It was like steel. A spasm of sheer lust gripped her insides in a vice of tension. She pressed her thighs together to stem the heat flooding her core. But it was impossible. Every nerve quivered with anticipation and her heart was thumping so loudly she was sure it had to be audible.

Slowly, Gabriel took his hand off one of her arms and brought it up behind her head. She felt him undo her hair, so that it was loosened out of the ponytail. He massaged her scalp, his long fingers strong but surprisingly gentle. It made something else quiver inside her. Not just desire. Emotion.

But before that could really register he was lowering his head to hers, and as if in some desperate bid to cling on to a semblance of reality she kept her eyes on his, on those gold-flecked pools of brown. Intense and direct. Anchoring her to the moment.

But any hope of clinging to reality dissolved in a flash flood of heat when his mouth touched hers. Firm and unyielding. Soft but hard. Masterful. She was helpless against the giddy rush of desire that ripped through her body as his mouth moved over hers, enticing her to further intimacy, coaxing her to open up to him, pressing her closer so she could feel every inch of his long, lean body.

She opened her mouth, and even though she wasn’t a total novice—she had kissed boys a long time ago before her life had been reduced to staying in the shadows—she wasn’t prepared for Gabriel’s expertise.

His mouth and tongue demanded a response she wasn’t sure how to give. She could only react instinctively. Tasting, exploring. Mimicking his movements. She felt rather than heard a growl deep in his throat as he pulled her even closer, delved deeper.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, but she knew she never wanted this moment to end. She’d never experienced anything so thrilling. Transporting.

When Gabriel took his mouth off hers she moved with him, loath to let the contact end. Her heart was pounding. It was a struggle to open her eyes. When she did, it took her a second to focus. Both her hands were clinging to his shirt. She was pressed so close against him that she could feel his desire, long and thick, against her belly.

It should have shocked her. But she pressed closer in an instinctive move, emboldened by a feminine rush of confidence she’d never known before. By the evidence of this man wanting her.

He smiled, but it wasn’t a gentle smile. It was hard. Knowing.

Not even that could dent Leonora’s desire. She wanted this man to be her first lover, so that whatever happened next she’d always have this experience locked inside her. That was why she’d said yes. Because she’d realised how close she’d come to never experiencing this.

‘Make love to me, Gabriel.’

He picked up one of her hands and interlocked his fingers with hers. A pulse throbbed between her legs.

His mouth quirked on one side. ‘Your wish is my command.’

Even through the haze of arousal and desire making her feel drunk, Leonora doubted that this man was anyone’s to command.

He kept their hands linked and led her from the living area, down a hall and to a door. He opened it and Leonora took in a vast bedroom. In contrast to what she’d seen of the apartment so far, this room was almost ascetic. Nothing but bare white walls and a few pieces of modern furniture.

Gabriel let her hand go to switch on a light. It sent out a warm golden glow, softening the hard edges in the room. She wondered about that. About its starkness. And yet it soothed her, coming from a castle stuffed to the gills with oversized furniture and dark décor more suited to the Middle Ages.

Her eyes fell on the bed—the most decadent thing in the room. Massive, and luxuriously dressed with sumptuous dark grey sheets and pillows. Unashamedly masculine. And modern.

‘Come here, Leonora.’

She took her gaze off the bed and looked at Gabriel. She sucked in a breath. He filled the space. She pushed down her trepidation and walked the couple of feet over to where he stood. He was taking his cufflinks out of his shirt and placing them on top of a chest of drawers. She stood before him.

‘Take off your jewellery.’

She didn’t think. She obeyed. Giving herself up to this night and this man with total commitment. She took out her earrings and placed them down next to his cufflinks. Then she removed the matching bracelet. He’d probably already guessed they weren’t real, but she didn’t care any more.

‘Take off my shirt.’

Leonora stepped closer, some of her bravado faltering as she reached for his buttons and started undoing them, revealing his impressive chest. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the faint tremor in her hands. When it was open, she pushed it back and looked. Her mouth went dry. He was more like a warrior than a civilised businessman. Hard muscles. Hair curling over his pectorals and descending in a dark line at the centre of a six-pack to disappear under the waistband of his trousers.

He tugged his shirt off completely, letting it drop to the floor. ‘Now you. I want to see you.’

No one had ever seen Leonora naked. Not since she was a child. When she was a teenager, fooling around with boys at after-school parties, it had always been an awkward fumbling in the dark, under clothes. Not this stark ‘I want to see you’ while standing in the golden glow of a lamp in front of the most intimidating man in the world. A connoisseur of women, by all accounts.

Before Leonora could overthink it she turned around, presenting Gabriel with her back and the zip to her dress. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and steeled herself for the moment she would feel his hands at her zip. But instead of going there first, his hands landed on her shoulders, and then she felt his breath at the back of her neck, before he pressed his mouth there, the moist tip of his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

Her legs nearly gave way completely.

She was dealing with a consummate seducer—not an over-eager boy.

His hands trailed over her skin as if he had all the time in the world to learn her shape. Goosebumps popped up even though she was warm. Hot. Melting…

Then his hands moved to the top of her dress and he started to pull her zip down, all the way, until it stopped just above the curve of her buttocks. His knuckles brushed her skin there and it felt as intimate as if he’d kissed her.

The dress was loosened around her chest but she brought her arms up, stopping it from falling down.

‘Turn around.’

Her heart pounding, Leonora turned. After a moment she looked up and saw Gabriel’s face. It was…stark. Hungry. She shivered.

He put his hands on her arms and slowly pulled them apart. The dress stayed up for a moment and then, under its own weight, fell down to her waist. She wore a matching strapless bra. Red lace.

Gabriel let her arms go and reached behind her to undo her bra. It fell away to the floor before she could worry about him noticing how frayed and worn it was.

He looked at her for a long moment. Saying nothing. And then, ‘You are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever imagined.’

Gabriel reached out and reverently cupped her breasts. Leonora had always felt self-conscious about their size, but they fitted Gabriel’s palms perfectly. He rubbed his thumbs across her nipples and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning out loud as they stiffened under his touch, almost to the point of pain.

He stopped for a moment, bringing his hands up to cup her face before seeking her mouth again and drawing her deep into a drugging kiss. Her hand clasped his wrist, needing something, anything, to root herself in this dream.

The friction of her bare breasts against his chest was sensory overload. But that was nothing… He stopped kissing her and trailed his mouth across her jaw and down the side of her neck to her shoulder, and then down to her breast. He cupped the plump flesh again and lifted it to his mouth, teasing her stiffened flesh with his tongue and teeth.

She couldn’t stop the moan this time. It came out like a guttural plea to stop…never to stop…to keep going. Her hands were on his head, her fingers in his thick hair as he lavished the same torture on her other breast until they were both tingling and wet from his mouth.

When he stopped and lifted his head Leonora could barely keep standing. Gabriel pushed her dress down the rest of the way, over her hips. It fell to the floor with a barely audible swish of silk.

Now she wore only panties and stockings. Her shoes. She kicked them off, dropping a few inches in height. It made Gabriel seem even taller, more impressive.

Then, before she could worry about how to stay standing on her wobbly legs, she was lifted into the air against his chest and carried over to the bed, where he lay her down as reverently as if she was made of spun glass…

CHAPTER THREE

GABRIEL WASN’T SURE how he’d managed not to ravish Leonora before now, but he knew something was holding him back. Her reticence—which he felt sure had to be an act—was having an effect on him.

For a man who had slept with some of the world’s most beautiful women, and who’d been sexually active since he was a teenager, he was finding lately that sexual liaisons had become merely satisfactory. More often than not disappointing. But here, now, he hadn’t done much more than kiss Leonora and already he was having the most erotic experience he’d had in a long time. If ever.

His instincts about her had been right. She was exquisite. Every line of her body sleek and perfect. Her skin was like silk. Her breasts were perfectly shaped. And her nipples—His mouth watered again, just at the thought of how they’d tasted and stiffened against his tongue.

She was looking at him with huge eyes. As if she’d never seen a man before. Part of him was irritated that she could get to him with such a rudimentary act—was he so jaded that faux innocence turned him on?

Enough playacting.

Gabriel divested himself of the rest of his clothes.

Leonora watched as Gabriel efficiently undressed, revealing a body honed and densely muscled. And hard. She couldn’t stop her eyes widening on his arousal, thick and long.

He came down on the bed, resting over her on both hands. She suddenly felt trepidatious. What if he noticed straight away how inexperienced she was? What if it hurt? What if he was too—?

‘You don’t have to do this, you know…’

He bent down and surrounded one still sensitised nipple in the hot wet heat of his mouth. Leonora’s back arched.

She panted, ‘What…? Do what…?’

He lifted his head, a sexy smile playing around his wicked mouth. ‘Put on the innocent act. You don’t have to play games to entice me, Leonora. I’m enticed.’

Before she could respond to that he was ministering the same exquisite torture to her other breast. Act? What act? She couldn’t think straight. Not when he was massaging one breast with his fingers and nipping at the other with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.

His tongue trailed down under her breasts to her belly, dipping into her navel before moving further. Leonora tensed as he came close to the juncture of her legs. He tucked his fingers under her panties and tugged. She lifted her bottom off the bed in silent acquiescence. He pulled them down her legs and off completely. Then one stocking and the other followed them to the floor.

Now she was totally naked—like him. And yet she didn’t feel self-conscious. Just…hungry. Aching. Empty inside. As if something was missing.

He was looking at her, his eyes roving over her body, and her self-consciousness returned. She was suddenly acutely aware that she didn’t conform to current beauty trends by waxing every inch of her body. But Gabriel wasn’t looking remotely repulsed.

He came down beside her, his hand resting on the cluster of dark curls between her legs. ‘I like a woman to look like a woman.’

He kissed her then, stopping any words or more coherent thoughts. The feeling of pleasure that he liked her as she was quickly became something far more urgent as he pushed her legs apart and his hand explored further, through those tight curls to the secret place where she ached for his touch.

She gasped into his mouth when his seeking fingers found her, wet and ready. He massaged her, stroking her with expert fingers into a level of excitement that had her arching off the bed, pleading incoherently for something just out of reach, a shimmering promise of ecstasy she could almost taste.

He was relentless, teasing her to the point where she thought she would die if he didn’t just—

But then, with one deep thrust and a twist of his fingers, Leonora was finally released from the tension, and she soared high on a wave of pleasure so exquisite she cried out, her hands instinctively reaching for Gabriel’s wrist to stop his movements, her throbbing flesh over-sensitised.

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