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She did want him. His warmth. His strength. She wanted the man who’d seduced her that cold winter’s night, not just with his body, but with his words.
The only thing that kept her from falling into his arms now was remembering how she’d felt waking up alone that gray January morning, and all the mornings after, when he ignored message after frantic message.
“But I can’t trust you,” she said in a small voice. “Not anymore. If I give myself to you, how do I know I won’t be left broken-hearted and alone?”
“Your heart will be safe. I’ll never ask for it.” Reaching out, he stroked her shoulder. His soft touch over the fabric of her red dress felt like fire. “And you’ll never be alone again.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath as he kissed her palm, then the back of her hand. “Never,” he whispered.
She couldn’t hide her shiver beneath his seductive caress. Looking up at his darkly handsome face beneath the moonlight, at his powerful body towering over hers in the tuxedo, she wondered wildly if he could hear the pounding of her heart. “I can’t...”
“Are you sure?” he whispered. Brushing back her hair, he kissed her forehead. Her cheeks. She trembled in his arms, hovering on the edge of surrender.
“Please don’t do this.” Pressing her palms against the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, she lifted her tearful gaze to his. “You don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“So tell me.”
Her hands tightened.
“To give up all hope of being loved,” she choked out. “Now and forever.”
“That kind of love is an illusion.” He drew back. “I know. My mother was a maid working in my father’s palace when she
got pregnant with me. He was already married, and his duchess was heavily pregnant. He must not have found his wife sexually appealing, because one afternoon he pushed my mother into a closet and kissed her.” His lips twisted. “She was barely nineteen, and so wrapped up in fairy-tale dreams she convinced herself the duke loved her. That only lasted until she got pregnant, too, and he threw her out of the palace. She was suddenly poor, a single mother, and dreams don’t pay the bills. She thought only love could save her. So she married. Five times.”
Santiago had never told her anything about his childhood before. Not one word. She sucked in her breath. “Five marriages?”
“And each husband worse than the last. Each time, her heart was broken. She didn’t want to raise me alone,” he said lightly. “She couldn’t relax at night. Couldn’t sleep. So she took sleeping pills. One night she took too many and died.”
“How old were you?” she said, aghast.
“Fourteen. I called an ambulance when I found her. The authorities dragged me from the house and I was sent to an orphanage.”
“Why didn’t you go to your father?”
He snorted. “My father already had a son and heir. He did not care to recognize the bastard result of his affair with a maid. When I tried to see him at his palace in Madrid, he set the dogs on me.”
“How could he?” Belle breathed.
Santiago turned away, blankly staring toward the pearlescent moonlight trailing across the lake. He finally looked at her.
“The man did me a favor,” he said flatly. “And I’m doing you one now by telling you this. The fairy-tale dream doesn’t exist. Only when you give it up will you have any possibility of happiness.”
Belle could understand why he might think that, after everything he’d gone through. And yet... She bit her lip. “You never tried to speak to your father again? Or your half brother?”
“They had their chance.” His eyes were hard. “I might have Zoya blood, but they mean nothing to me now.”
Santiago looked down at her. “So now do you understand? I never intended this to happen. I never meant to marry, or have a child. What do I know of being a husband, or a father?” His eyes narrowed. “But I will not allow my child to have the lonely existence I had. She will not be rejected, raised in poverty by a delusional mother and a succession of uncaring stepfathers. She will have my name.” He looked at her evenly. “You will marry me.”
Belle licked her lips as she tried desperately, “But there are other ways besides marriage...”
Reaching out, he cupped her cheek.
“You will agree to marry me, Belle, or I will keep you here until the baby is born, and take the child from you. Do you understand?”
His tone was so gentle, it took her a moment to understand the meaning. Then her eyes went wide as she drew away sharply.
“You wouldn’t.”
“You are mistaken if you believe I am as soft-hearted as you. I am not.”
