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‘Of course that marquis belongs in the fairy story and he was only for pretend and you’re real,’ Sophie conceded absently. ‘But all this feels very unreal to me…’
There was a reason for the way she suddenly fell silent. The limousine had turned a corner and through the trees she caught a glimpse of an ancient stone building. Adorned with as many towers and turrets as any palace in a fairy tale, it sat in an oasis of lush green vegetation. It was indescribably beautiful and she was enchanted from that first moment.
‘What do you think?’
Sophie veiled her stunned eyes and shrugged with studied casualness, too self-conscious to display her true reactions. ‘It’s very big…I’m not going to be tripping over you every five minutes, am I?’
‘It’s unlikely. Perhaps I should have mentioned before now that a nanny has been engaged to help you care for Lydia,’ Antonio advanced with caution.
‘As long as I like the nanny, that’s fine with me.’ Sophie was grateful that an extra pair of hands would be available. All too often she had been forced to rely on Norah Moore’s good nature. A nanny to help out with Lydia would be a real luxury.
The limo came to a halt in a timeless courtyard ornamented with palm trees in vast pots. The soft sunlight of evening illuminated the stone arches and columns that made an arcade on three sides. Water droplets sparkled and fell from the fountain that played near the massive wooden doors that stood ajar on a floor that, even at a distance of several feet, was clearly polished to a mirror finish.
Lydia supported on one slight hip, Sophie crossed the threshold and froze at the sight of the throng of people filling the giant entrance hall.
With wonderful assurance, Antonio cupped a light hand below her elbow and drew her on to greet an elegant little old lady who might have been chipped out of frozen granite.
‘My grandmother, Doña Ernesta…Sophie.’
Doña Ernesta gave a regal nod and said that it was a great joy to welcome her grandson, his bride and her great-granddaughter home. Sophie was not deceived. She knew that she was about as welcome in her role as Antonio’s bride as the bad fairy. Attention was quickly focused on Lydia, who was greeted with a sincere warmth that quite transformed her great-grandmother’s frozen granite exterior. A young smiling nanny was brought forward, introduced, and Lydia was handed over to an enthusiastic reception.
‘Come and meet the rest of the staff,’ Antonio urged Sophie then, ignoring her dismay as she registered just how many people appeared to fall within that category.
Everyone who worked inside the castillo was waiting to pay their respects. Antonio carried her through the introductions with the sure confidence that seemed to accompany everything he did and she really appreciated his support.
Afterwards he closed his hand over hers and walked her up the carved stone staircase. ‘You must be incredibly hungry,’ he murmured.
‘Yes…I should’ve eaten when I got the chance.’ Sophie sighed, her attention locking to the ancient stone walls and gothic arches surrounding them. It was a real castle, a one hundred per cent genuine medieval castle, and she was fascinated by it.
His handsome mouth quirked at her fatalistic outlook. ‘I upset you. In the hope that you’ll forgive that I’ve arranged for a meal to be served in your suite. I want you to be happy here at the castillo.’
‘Your grandmother wouldn’t agree with you.’
‘It’s a shame that she didn’t have the opportunity to get to know you at your sister’s wedding, querida. She would never be unkind and will soon become accustomed to our marriage.’
Sophie was less confident.
‘By the way, I should warn you that I have told no one of our marital agreement. Secrets shared soon lead to a wider circle becoming acquainted with what was once private—’
‘You mean Doña Ernesta thinks we’re like…really married?’ Sophie interrupted in dismay. ‘You should tell her the truth!’
‘It would only complicate matters. Allow me to know my own family best. To all intents and purposes it is wisest if at this point at least our marriage appears to be normal,’ Antonio decreed.
Sophie disagreed but took the hint. It was obvious to her that Doña Ernesta was hopping with rage and disappointment over the fact that her grandson appeared to have thrown his title, his wealth and his giant castle away on a penniless nobody from England. Sophie did not blame his grandmother one little bit for her annoyance. Antonio was just about the equivalent of a prince and a prince deserved a princess.
Upstairs, Antonio showed her into a beautifully furnished and enormous sitting room, which led into a huge bedroom that in turn had a fabulous bathroom and dressing room attached.
‘All this is just for me?’ she gasped.
‘Dinner will be served here in forty minutes,’ he imparted.
‘Here…? ‘ Her relief was palpable. She had been afraid that she might have to dress up to eat in some fancy dining room and she had nothing suitable to change into.
‘Sí. I’ve organised an informal meal of your favourite foods—’
‘But you don’t know what I like…’
‘I phoned Mrs Moore to find out, querida.’ Antonio gazed down at her, stunning dark golden eyes very serious. ‘You have eaten hardly anything today. That’s my fault. I want you to relax and feel comfortable at the castillo.’
Sophie vented an awkward laugh. ‘I’m never going to relax in a place like this!’
‘Of course you will,’ Antonio declared, long brown fingers tilting up her chin to persuade her to look up again. ‘You’re my wife and this is your home and you must treat it as such. Your comfort is of prime importance to me and to our staff.’
For a long, timeless moment, she was conscious only of the spectacular power of his gaze. His concern for her sent a sudden dangerous flare of happiness winging through her slight frame. The faint citrusy aroma of the shaving lotion he used flared her nostrils. She wanted to drink the scent in like a drug, for it was already wonderfully familiar to her. Something tightened low in her pelvis and an awareness so acute it hurt seemed to make every inch of her feel unbearably sensitive. She wanted to lean closer to him, retain that fleeting physical contact of his fingers against her throat. But she rebelled against her weakness and literally forced herself back for him with a brittle smile fixed to her flushed face. ‘Right, so if I’m to make myself at home, I’ll have a bath before the food arrives,’ she framed not quite steadily. ‘So first you’d better tell me where Lydia is, because I want to check she’s OK without me.’
For a split second, Antonio was very taut as he mastered the raw hunger that had leapt as high as a burning brand in him. All it had taken was her proximity and that reference to a bath and his imagination had gone crazy. His gleaming gaze veiled while he fought an outrageous desire to simp
ly grab her like a Neanderthal cave dweller. Lust had never controlled him to such an extent that he almost forgot who he was. Exhilarated by the very power of that sensation, he suspended all rational thought on the issue.
It was sex, just sex, nothing to get worked up about. She was amazingly sexy and the very fact that she didn’t even seem to appreciate the strength of her own attraction only added to her appeal. He could not recall when he had last been with a woman capable of walking past a mirror without looking in it. Not to mention one so devoted to a baby’s interests that her own needs took second billing.
Sophie peeped in on Lydia, who was blissfully asleep in a large cot. Her niece was being watched over by what appeared to be a good half of the female staff. A little while later, her concern laid to rest, Sophie sank into the warm, scented water of the sunken bath that had so captured her interest. She rested her head back against the built-in pillow and surveyed the other luxurious fittings with impressed-to-death eyes. She could see that the misery of being married to Antonio was going to be alleviated by certain small consolations. So, she couldn’t have him and other women were going to have him…but, she rushed to remind herself, she had Lydia, a bath to die for and at least the promise of food. On the downside this was her wedding night and she was alone? So what was new about being alone, she asked herself, struggling not to give way to self-pity. Unhappily she was all too well aware that Antonio would never have left a princess alone…
Thoroughly refreshed, Sophie emerged from the bathroom with a white towel knotted round her and a riot of tousled curls falling round her shoulders. Her nose twitched at the faint enticing aroma in the air and she followed it.
Antonio was standing by the balcony doors in the sitting room.
‘Oh!’ Sophie jerked to a disconcerted halt a few feet from the table that was now set with sparkling glasses and cutlery and the catering trolley standing by. ‘Did you bring the food?’
