Page 1 of Her Spanish Scandal

Chapter One

It was being billed as the wedding of the year—the union of Manhattan’s most romantic couple. And as far as Kara deMontaine could see, the media was right on the money with this one. She stood in the back of the packed Saint Patrick’s Cathedral surrounded by society’s elite. This was her world, her circle. And yet, she felt totally alone as she waited to be escorted down the aisle to her seat.

The unexpected wedding of publishing magnate Tristan Sabina had turned into the event of the spring season. She wished she could look at it as just another party, but she was almost thirty and still single. So every wedding she attended was turning into a trial, a kind of endurance event that made her realize she was probably never going to be a bride. She tried to shake off the melancholy that seemed to wrap around her like an Hermès silk scarf. But she couldn’t.

It had nothing to do with Sheri Donnelly, the bride. Kara knew little about her, but she had heard that Sheri was very sweet. She’d also heard a firsthand account from her older sister, Rina, that Sheri’s dress was one-of-a-kind exquisite.

Kara felt a longing that she’d been unable to shake lately. That longing to wear a white dress. To see her groom, standing at the end of the aisle waiting for her. To walk through a church filled with onlookers all envious of her, because on this one day she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she remembered lying in bed with her mother on lazy Sunday mornings and talking about her dream wedding. Rina always curled up on the right side and Kara on the left in her parents’ king-sized bed. Back then she hadn’t realized that she wasn’t a fairy-tale princess. Hadn’t realized that being almost six feet tall and big boned would make most men a little hesitant around her.

She closed her eyes and heard the sweet, soft voice of her mother as nothing more than a dream. Alisha deMontaine had died when Kara was sixteen, just before she was to make her rounds as a debutante. Rina had made her debut a year earlier.

Rina and Kara were as opposite as two women could be. Where Rina was petite, thin and revered for her beauty, Kara was tall, a bit on the solid side and known for her charitable work.

Kara sniffed and blinked rapidly, knowing that, while it was okay to cry when the bride appeared, sobbing before the event started would be a major faux pas.

A hand fell on her shoulder and a snowy white handkerchief appeared in front of her eyes. The hand holding it was tanned, masculine and very large.

“A wedding day is a day of joy,” the man said in a deep, strong voice with a thick Spanish accent.

She glanced up into hazel eyes. He was stunningly handsome and staring at her with concentration. He was also taller than her, which made him about six-two or six-three. She cleared her throat and quickly wiped her eyes. “Tears of joy.”

He quirked one eyebrow at her. And there was something arrogant in the way he did it. “I know women.”

No doubt. He exuded a blatant sexuality that probably drew more women to his side than he wanted. Then again, he looked as though he was more than able to handle any situation, even a flock of women descending on him. Okay, she was getting a little hysterical. She took a deep breath. Poise was something she was known for. It was time to find it. Time to get control.

“You might know women,” she said, “but you don’t know me.”

He nodded. “Let’s change that. I am Count Guillermo de Cuaron y Bautista de la Cruz. And you are?”

She knew who he was. He was in the tabloids all the time for his escapades around the world. And Rina traveled on the outskirts of his circle of friends.

Guillermo always had a beautiful woman on his arm. Never a pudgy heiress like her. Dang it, she was trying to be more comfortable in the size-twelve body that she had. Nothing could get her down to a zero. Nothing. She’d dieted more times than she wanted to admit.

“Kara deMontaine,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

He took it and brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “Now that we are no longer strangers…what has you teary eyed on this happy day?”

She shook her head. Yeah, like she was really going to tell this stunningly gorgeous man that she was upset because she was never going to be a picture-perfect bride. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Count—”

“My friends call me Gui.”

“Gui,” she said without meaning to. She liked the way his name sounded on her lips. And she loved his voice. The accent made her want to listen to him all day.

“Kara, tell me. I have three sisters and numerous cousins. I’m a good listener.”

There was something very kind and understanding in his eyes. She wanted to pour out the entire sad truth. That she’d probably never marry like this. Never find a man to cherish her. Never be a bride envied by the world. But she couldn’t say those words out loud to this man. He was handsome, actually almost beautiful with his classical features, dark blond hair and multihued eyes. A fantasy man, and she was a married-for-her-money kind of girl. “It’s a silly thing.”

“Ah, that means it is actually a very personal thought. Something that means a lot to you,” he said.

God, she didn’t want him to be perceptive enough to know what was really bothering her. She had made her peace with who she was and how she looked, and that worked for her only because everyone believed she was happy living in Rina’s shadow. And most days, she was. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”