She didn’t have Natalie’s dramatic colouring, her stunning beauty. In the older girl, everything was toned down, her sister’s blonde hair subdued to a dark brown, and no blue, blue eyes but an unusual hazel of the sort that could be green or brown depending on the light and her mood. And her clothes had been so much simpler than her sister’s, more demure than Natalie’s ultra-fashionable style, perhaps, but not ‘dull’ or old-fashioned.
Now, even under the appallingly unflattering and over-elaborate hairstyle, her profile had a purity that caught the eye and held it. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent and the length of the lush, curling eyelashes that rested on her cheeks as she looked down seemed almost as if they might waft a breeze across the church with each movement of her eyes.
Her figure was tall and slender, slight in comparison to her sister’s voluptuous curves, but she held herself with a natural elegance. She might not be as stunning a beauty as her sister but there was something about her that drew his attention to her.
Something that hooked him and held him watching, caught by her stillness, her composure. Something that intrigued him and wouldn’t let him go.
On the day they had met she had been so cool, so distant, the ice maiden personified, that he had disliked her on sight. She had turned those hazel eyes on him in the sort of look that he had seen too often as he was growing up. The expression that reminded him he had clawed his way out of the gutter and that he still carried the taint of the slums along with him. It was a look that he had vowed he would never let anyone subject him to ever again and, seeing it, he had told himself that if he had had to choose then he would have preferred Natalie to this cold, stiff, unwelcoming woman.
Now he was no longer so certain.
‘But one thing’s for sure,’ she was saying now, the calm, soft tones of her voice carrying clearly even above her stepmother’s near-hysterics, her father’s attempts at soothing. ‘I’m afraid there isn’t going to be a wedding here today. I just couldn’t let Natalie go through with it.’
Couldn’t… The word swung round and round in Santos’s head, sending warning echoes out like the ripples in a pond when a pebble was thrown into it. I just couldn’t let Natalie go through with it.
Couldn’t, be damned. She had been part of this all along. She’d known that Natalie was going to break her promise, had helped her run out on the wedding.
Helped her humiliate him in this public way.
‘I’m sorry that you’ve all had a wasted journey, but I’m sure you’ll understand. And now I suppose the only thing we can do is to go home and get on with our lives.’
She was moving forward as she spoke, making it plain that she was about to do just that, about to walk down the aisle, out of the church…
‘So if you’d all like to leave…’
‘No!’
That was not going to happen. She wasn’t going to just walk away from this, walk out on the mess she and her family had created, and leave it all behind without a backward look. The furious feeling that he had been duped and robbed was like a blaze in his mind, obliterating rational thought, driving him into action. His hand shot out and fastened around her arm again, pulling her to a halt with such force that she actually spun round again, coming face to face with him. Natalie might be beyond his reach, but her sister was not.
The Montague family owed—and he didn’t care who started paying. Only that someone did. And this other daughter seemed a good place to start.
But first he had to make sure that she didn’t get away from him now, running out on him fast like her deceitful, lying little sister.
‘No,’ he repeated even more forcefully. ‘You are not going anywhere—you are coming with me.’
‘Why?’
Once again Alexa was strongly tempted by the idea of a swift kick on the ankle bone of the haughty, autocratic male who held her captive as he glared down into her face, just inches away from his. Only the thought of the audience still seated in the pews behind them kept her from actually physically attacking him, though she glared up into his arrogantly handsome face, praying that her defiance and determination showed in her own eyes as they locked with his.
‘Why on earth would I want to go anywhere with you?’
‘Because I am asking you to,’ Santos said with a swift, totally unexpected smile.
The transformation in his face was so sudden, so astonishing that it made her blink in total disbelief. From being coldly tyrannical and domineering, he had suddenly switched to deliberate and persuasive charm.
And it was working, she admitted unwillingly to herself as she felt the unexpected change in her pulse rate, the new unevenness of her heartbeat in response to the softening of his expression, that stunning smile. She didn’t want to feel that she was weak enough to respond to the practised charm of an experienced male seducer, but the truth was that she couldn’t stop herself. When that smile curved the sensual lips and the light illuminated his burnished eyes, then she suddenly found some of the prickly defensiveness with which she had confronted him melting away and being replaced by an intensely feminine and totally instinctive response.
‘Look…’
The way he raised his voice, the swift gesture of his hand towards the congregation was a move to include everyone in what he was saying. But the direction of his eyes, the burn of their focus was meant for her and for her alone. And the sheer force of it knocked her off balance before she had a chance to collect herself, win back her much needed control.
‘The wedding may have to be cancelled—this part of things spoiled—but does the whole of the day have to be ruined? I have a reception prepared back at my home. My staff and the caterers have been working for days to get things ready. It would be a crime to let everything go to waste.’
For a moment longer he held her gaze and the searing intensity of his eyes made her head spin with the message it seemed to be giving before he suddenly glanced up again, looking out at their audience and switching on another of those impossible, seductive smiles.
‘As Señorita Montague says, so many of you have had a long journey here. What sort of a host would I be if I let you leave again without any refreshment, anything to eat? I invite you all back to the house. There might no longer be any need for a wedding reception but I hope you will enjoy my hospitality just the same.’
Alexa could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She knew that just a few minutes before, there, in the little room just off the altar, he had asked her why he should care that his bride had jilted him at the altar. But could he really just turn and walk away from what was supposed to have been his wedding—and invite all his guests along to share in the abandoned reception?
The cold-eyed man she had first met might be able to. But would the man with the lethally charming smile she had just seen? And which one of them was the real Santos Cordero?
‘You—you won’t want us there…’ she managed. ‘The Montague family would be the last people you’d want to come along. The spectres at the feast, as it were…’
Her voice trailed off again as once more she was treated to that brilliant, enticing smile, but one that she felt was touched with an iciness that was infinitely disturbing.
‘On
