Chapter Eight
Three weeks later
‘So, you’re really going through with it, then?’
Santiago swung round from the mirror in the small vestry—where he had been checking his cravat—to find his brother standing with his shoulder propped against the doorframe. The casual pose and the relaxed tone, though, was contradicted by the incredulous expression on Alejandro’s face.
About damn time.
Santiago put a stranglehold on the surge of anger and frustration.
His brother’s hair was a mess and his cravat hung around the open collar of his shirt untied.
But at least he was here— finally —and wearing the suit which had been designed for him so he could be Cerys’s padrino .
It was traditional for a girl’s father to represent her at a Spanish wedding ceremony, but Cerys had been certain her father was not living, from the nightmares she had already dredged up from her past, so Alejandro had agreed to walk her down the aisle.
But, as usual, his brother had clearly not understood the gravity of that commitment.
‘You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Andro,’ he replied, attempting to relax his jaw and not sound furious. He did not have time to start an argument. His wedding was due to commence in less than twenty minutes.
His brother shrugged. ‘I got hung up in Girona this afternoon.’
No doubt in some woman’s bed.
Santiago’s jaw tightened, his own sexual frustration adding to his irritation at his brother’s late arrival.
He had chosen not to make love to Cerys for the past few days, to prove to himself that he could control the insatiable desire.
But now he was concerned he would be unable to control his physical reaction during the ceremony.
Which would not only be humiliating—but had the potential to reignite the salacious speculation about his insatiable sex drive, which this marriage was supposed to curtail.
In the past three weeks it had become a struggle to leave Cerys sleeping in the secluded villa on the edge of the vines each morning at dawn to go to work in the castillo .
And even more of a struggle not to tear her clothes off her as soon as she arrived to join him there each evening.
He had even taken to waking her during the night, to have her again.
And using sex to placate her whenever the nightmares woke her from dreams.
At least the sex had diverted her from attempting any more conversations about his past whenever they were alone together.
Cerys must have heard of the De Montoya Scandal by now—but he had no wish to discuss it.
This marriage would finally repair the rest of the damage his father had caused.
They could not make their union official in the eyes of the state until Pérez came through with her ID documents.
But the detective believed he had found something which might help uncover her identity, which he was bringing to the castillo tomorrow.
With the Isla de la Luna resort due to open in a couple of weeks, his business manager had been overjoyed at the prospect of them honeymooning on the island and Santiago would prefer to have the civil marriage conducted beforehand.
The publicity department had a press release ready to go too, which would hopefully put an end to the comparisons with his father once and for all.
It had been important to him to have their marriage blessed in the family chapel, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he had finally shaken off the shackles of his past. And his father’s crimes.
But the more he hungered for Cerys, the more he wondered if that were true.
Three days ago, he had noticed the bruised shadows under Cerys’s eyes. And he knew they were caused not just by the endless wedding planning and the demands he made on her at night, but also by the nightmares which woke her frequently.
She was emotionally fragile, her memory clearly returning, and yet every time he took her, the need only become more acute—to the point where he had taken to making excuses to snatch stolen moments with her during the day.
The soft sobs of her arousal, the feel of her tightening around him, was something he had begun to crave like a drug.
Three days ago, he had even demanded she come to his study so he could hand over his mother’s mantilla—the black veil traditionally worn by Spanish brides.
Of course, he had no real interest in whether she wore the mantilla or not.
But contriving that particular reason to see her had been a misstep, leading to questions about his mother.
Which had then led to him ravishing her on the desk to divert her attention again.
In the end he had been so ashamed of himself he’d ended up insisting on a three-day separation until the wedding…
But, of course, the three nights without her in his bed had only made his appetite more insatiable.
He sighed. At least this self-inflicted celibacy was due to end in a few hours.
Night had fallen ten minutes ago, and the centuries-old chapel on the vineyard’s grounds—where the exclusive ceremony would be performed—had been full of the invited guests for over an hour.
He had decided against a big society event—partly because the wedding planner had nearly had a breakdown when he had insisted on arranging this blessing ceremony before the Isla de la Luna launch at the end of the month.
But mostly because he had always had an aversion to any kind of press attention.
They would have exclusive photographs taken on Isla de la Luna, but the press release would only be issued for this event once Cerys’s true identity had been discovered and they could legalise the union.
But he’d also had no desire to wait.
It was unlike him to rush anything, but getting Cerys in his bed permanently as soon as possible had seemed like the best way to control this obsession. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure about that either. Because the more he had Cerys, the more he seemed to want her.
‘I’m really not interested in hearing about your latest conquest, Andro,’ he replied tightly. ‘I’m just glad you finally showed up.’
His brother arched a sceptical brow, but as usual appeared unbothered by Santiago’s criticisms.
‘You look tense. Wedding nerves, hermano ?’ he goaded.
‘Why would I be nervous?’ Santiago replied, annoyed by the suggestion. ‘Marriage to Cerys fulfils my requirements.’
However swift his decision to offer Cerys marriage had been, he did not regret it.
She wasn’t just diverting in bed, she called to some elemental part of him which he could no longer deny—not yet anyway.
Her innocence, of course, had also been a decisive factor—the realisation when he had thrust so heavily inside her the first time that she had never given herself to another man had been both disturbing, and deeply unsettling, on one level—but also strangely cathartic on another.
Because as soon as he had realised the truth, he had been consumed with the possessive urge to ensure he remained the only man ever to touch her.
He had wondered, late at night, if it was this urge which had driven his father to finally choose one of his many mistresses over his mother.
Was it this same elemental obsession which had made his father choose to run off with that British tourist?
Because, if it was, surely it made Santiago’s marriage to Cerys even more imperative.
And while Cerys’s lack of a past might have been an issue, if she were a virgin at twenty, surely her life must have been sheltered.
Plus, he found her personality—that impulsive optimism, her willingness to see the best in him, while also challenging and exciting him—surprisingly enchanting.
And surely her desire to be a part of his family could only be beneficial if it meant he could concern himself less with Ana’s constant disobedience and Alejandro’s determination never to take any damn thing seriously.
To have Cerys act as a go-between with his siblings suddenly seemed like a perfect solution.
She was so sunny and bright. Ana already adored her and he knew Alejandro had been charmed by her, too.
‘Uh-huh? Really?’ Alejandro said, not sounding convinced.
‘You’re marrying a girl you’ve known for less than a couple of months.
A girl you don’t know anything about—and neither does she.
I know she’s hot,’ he murmured. ‘And according to the staff you can’t keep your hands off her, but why the hell are you marrying her when you could just keep her in your bed until she remembers who she is and goes home? ’
Fury consumed him. Lunging forward, he grabbed his brother by his lapels and thrust him back against the doorframe.
‘Don’t speak of her like that, as if she is no better than one of our father’s whores,’ he growled.
Instead of fighting back, though, Alejandro stared at him, his gaze direct.
‘Calm down, Tiago,’ he said. The nickname which Andro hadn’t used since they were boys cut through the surging fury, to the familiar shame. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
Santiago unlocked his fists and released his brother.
The fury had come from nowhere. He had revealed too much. What was wrong with him? Why had he reacted so strongly to Alejandro’s familiar attempts to goad him?
‘Have you got feelings for her, Tiago, is that it?’ his brother asked.
The thought struck fear into his heart.
‘Don’t call me by that name,’ he said, struggling to control his panic. They weren’t those boys any more. They had once been close, but that was before Santiago had betrayed them all by keeping his father’s sordid secrets from the rest of his family.
‘I told you months ago I was in search of a wife,’ he continued, knowing he was reasoning with himself now as much as his brother, but determined to make his motivations clear. No one had said anything about love. Nor would they. ‘And we are well matched.’