in Hyde Park that they had nearly capsized.
Her steps slowed. Ramon had said he believed they were adult enough to work things out for the sake of their child—but how could she possibly marry him knowing that he would never love her? It was a pathway to certain heartbreak, but so too was a legal battle over Matty—a battle she was not at all sure she would win, she thought bleakly.
‘I want to find my son,’ she told the maid urgently. ‘Do you know where he is?’
‘Sí.’ The maid nodded. ‘Follow me and I will take you to him.’
Under different circumstances Lauren would have liked to linger and study the dozens of rooms the maid took her past—rooms with stunning murals on the ceilings and exquisite tapestries on the walls, filled with beautiful antique furniture and even ancient suits of armour. And yet, despite being stuffed with historical artefacts, many of which were undoubtedly very valuable, the castle still felt like a home rather than a museum.
This was Matty’s heritage, she thought as she followed the maid down a magnificent sweeping staircase and across a vast oak-panelled hall hung with portraits of dark, proud looking men whom she guessed were Ramon’s ancestors. The castle and its ancient history were her son’s birthright.
At the far end of the hall stood a set of doors, one of which was slightly ajar, revealing a modern addition to the castle: a beautiful glass conservatory that overlooked the extensive gardens beyond. Sunshine streamed through the windows onto the women and children who were sitting on the sofas or, in the children’s case, sprawled on the floor around a laughing baby boy.
Mateo seemed completely at home amongst all these strangers, Lauren thought bleakly. She guessed that the older, rather regal-looking woman was Ramon’s mother, and the three younger women—one of whom was heavily pregnant—must be his sisters.
She stood behind the half-open door and watched Matty. He was sitting on a rug, surrounded by a group of little girls and boys. The children were teaching him to clap his hands, laughing and chattering in Spanish, and to Lauren’s amazement Matty already seemed to understand them and was grinning happily.
He belonged here. The thought struck her like an arrow through her heart. With his jet black curls and light olive skin he was the image of his cousins, but he shared more than a physical resemblance with them. Matty was a Velaquez—a member of the Spanish nobility. This castle was his rightful home, and these people were his family. How could she take him away, back to her undeniably small flat, to a lifestyle that was far from ideal? She hated leaving him at the nursery all day, but she had believed that she had no choice.
Her choices now were not great, she thought dismally. She could agree to a loveless marriage, give up her job and her independence, and be tolerated here at the castle for no reason other than that she was Matty’s mother. Or she could risk a court battle with Ramon, the outcome of which would at best only give her shared custody of her son, and might conceivably result in Ramon being allowed to keep Matty in Spain while she was awarded the right to visit him only a few times a year.
There was no choice, she acknowledged dully. She would rather die than be separated from her baby.
Five minutes later Ramon found her in the great hall, standing as cold and white as if she had been carved from marble as she watched Mateo and his cousins in the conservatory beyond.
‘You look like death,’ he said sharply when he came up to her. ‘You shouldn’t have come downstairs.’
At last she turned her head to him, and the glisten of tears clinging to her lashes evoked a curious pain in his gut. ‘Lauren…?’
‘You win,’ she said, in a voice as brittle as glass. ‘I can’t take Matty away from here—from his family. But I can’t live without him.’ She swallowed and then went on quickly, before her courage deserted her, ‘And so, for him, I’ll marry you.’
She made it sound as though she was offering herself as a human sacrifice, Ramon thought irritably. Dios, he was a billionaire duque, and from now on she would live a life of luxury. ‘Had you considered that marriage to me might not be the ordeal you seem to think it will?’ he asked curtly. ‘As my wife, you will want for nothing.’
‘How do you know what I want?’ Lauren said quietly. His words tore at her heart, for she would always long for the one thing he could never give her.
Muttering an imprecation, Ramon steered her into his study, strode over to his desk and took something from a drawer. ‘Now that we are formally engaged you will wear this,’ he told her, opening a velvet box to reveal a ring that drew a gasp from Lauren.
It was plainly an antique—an enormous ruby surrounded by a circle of diamonds and another circle of smaller rubies.
‘It’s a monstrosity,’ she muttered, voicing the first thought that entered her head as Ramon took her cold hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a fraction tight over her knuckle, and felt heavy and cumbersome.
‘Only you could describe a ring that was recently valued at a million pounds as a monstrosity,’ Ramon said dryly. ‘For countless generations every Velaquez bride has worn this ring, and my family will expect you to continue the tradition.’
A million pounds! ‘But suppose I lose it?’ Lauren argued as she stared at the huge ring in horror. ‘Ramon, surely there’s no need? It’s not as if we are marrying for conventional reasons. We’re not in love with each other,’ she explained sharply when his dark brows rose quizzically.
‘I doubt that love was a factor in many of my ancestors’ choices of brides,’ he replied laconically. ‘For most marriage was a business arrangement, between high-born families.’
While Lauren brooded on his words he gripped her elbow and led her back out of his study and across the hall, to the doors leading to the conservatory.
‘My mother, however, is under the illusion that ours is a love-match,’ he told her grimly, ‘and I have no intention of shattering her romantic ideals.’
‘Meaning what, exactly?’
Sherry-brown eyes clashed with stormy grey ones. ‘Meaning that in front of my family you will act the part of my love-struck fiancée.’
‘Sorry, but I’m not that good an actress,’ Lauren muttered sarcastically.
‘Perhaps this will help you get into character.’
Ramon’s dark head swooped before she realised his intention, and her startled gasp was lost beneath the hungry pressure of his mouth. She was unprepared for the thrust of his tongue between her lips, and to her shame white-hot, rampant desire swept through her as he explored her with a bold eroticism that left her weak and trembling and clinging to him for support.
She was scarlet-cheeked when Ramon finally broke the kiss, and her embarrassment intensified when she discovered that he had opened the door while he had been kissing her and they were in full view of everyone in the conservatory.
‘Well, Ramon, I hope you are about to announce your engagement and spare all our blushes,’ commented one of the young women in an amused voice.
‘I am,’ Ramon replied, triumph in his voice as he slid his arm around Lauren’s waist and drew her forward. He led her over to the older woman, who stood up from the sofa as they approached. ‘Madre,
