Valaquez Bride Read online

  Benny nodded but lifted his eyes heavenward. "I guess so, since you're hell-bent to do this. Just don't let your uncle browbeat you or play on your emotions because he's been injured. And if you happen to run into Pablo or Raul Valaquez, be sure and ask them what century they think this is. I thought arranged marriages went out with the Stone Age."

  Juliet smiled wryly. "I would tell Pablo that but Raul's a different matter. He'd probably throw me in his dungeon if I expressed disrespect for such an aristocratic custom." When Benny frowned, she patted his arm. "I was only kidding. He doesn't have a dungeon. I guess. Besides, I probably won't even see him while I'm here anyway. So just drive on to Jaen and don't worry about me. I'll be just fine here. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." As Benny nodded reluctantly, she picked up her suitcase, then turned toward the fine old house. "See you day after tomorrow," she murmured, walking away before he could say anything else.

  Like most other prestigious older dwellings in the city, Uncle Will's house had no front yard. An ornate statue rose from a stone pedestal in the center of a small flagstone terrace and a cultivated elm tree grew on one side, providing welcome shade. There were ornamental evergreen shrubs along the front walls of the house and trailing bougainvillaea vines festooned the wrought iron railings of the second floor balcony. Juliet paused at the gleaming black door, memories overwhelming her as she caught the sweet fragrance of orange and the more citric scent of lemon. Those trees grew in the walled courtyard behind the house, a courtyard where she had spent many pleasant hours. Nostalgia overswept her and she felt a real regret that she had been compelled to leave here the way she had, but it was useless to think about that now. As the van's engine sputtered to life behind her, she turned, waved good-bye to her friends, then reached out toward the heavy brass knocker adorning the front door.

  Before she could lift the hammer, however, the door was flung open from inside and Rosita, Uncle Will's housekeeper and cook, gestured excitedly for her to come in. Though she was a tiny woman, she was wiry and strong and she embraced Juliet with enthusiasm, all the while chattering away in rapid-fire Spanish. Juliet understood only a little of what she was saying because she was speaking so quickly and Juliet's Spanish had gotten very rusty during the eleven months she had spent traveling through Europe with Benny and Holly. Finally, as Rosita chattered on, Juliet laughed and caught the housekeeper's wildly gesticulating hands.

  "Whoa. Speak English, please. Remember, I don't speak Spanish like a native."

  As Rosita's brown eyes swept over Juliet, they lost some of their excited sparkle. Her broad smile began to slowly fade, accentuating the network of wrinkles that lined her brown face. She abruptly extracted one of the hands the girl held and waggled a bony finger disapprovingly. "You did a bad thing," she accused very seriously. "You make everybody sad when you run away. And with a silly little boy. Niña! Why you do such a crazy thing? Señor McKay, he…"

  "How is Uncle Will?" Juliet interrupted hastily. "I read about his accident this morning. Is—is he badly injured?"

  "You care?" Rosita countered mockingly. "You run away and send him only some letters in the past year and now…"

  "Just tell me how he is," Juliet pleaded. "You can lecture me later. Okay?"

  Rosita shrugged, ceasing her sermon with obvious reluctance. "Señor McKay is not too bad. He break a leg and…" She tapped her head, "He has a—what is it you call it? A percussion?"

  "A concussion?" Juliet exclaimed softly, amber eyes mirroring her dismay. "How bad a concussion? Is he still unconscious?"

  "No, he wake this morning. Asks for you," Rosita added reproachfully, waggling her finger again. "Are you not ashamed, niña? The señor wanted to see you but you were not here. He is a good man and he has smiled little since you run away. Why you want to leave with that—that tuno, that rock singer?"

  As Rosita gave a disdainful sniff and gyrated her scrawny hips in a comical parody of a rock musician, Juliet had to smile. "Benny is not a rock singer. He sings ballads and folk songs."

  "Is same thing," Rosita proclaimed with a disparaging toss of her hand. Her sharp brown eyes bore into Juliet's. "Why you want a boy like him when you could marry into the grande Valaquez family? Or is it perhaps it was the wrong brother who wanted to marry you? Would you run away if Don Raul wanted you as his wife? Hmm, niña?"

  As embarrassing pink color tinged Juliet's cheeks, she half turned to stare at the white plastered walls of the entrance hall. "I don't want to discuss Señor Valaquez," she said stiffly. "I just want to change out of these jeans into a dress and go visit Uncle Will at the hospital."

  "Too early," Rosita declared but her tone gentled and she reached out to pat Juliet's arm. "You cannot visit the hospital until eight o'clock. When you come back, you will have dinner with me. Si? It is cocido. You always like that. At the market today, I find beautiful fresh chick peas, big and yellow. And I put in only the nicest bits of bacon, beef and chicken. Will be muy delicioso. Si?"

  Juliet nodded automatically but without much real enthusiasm. Though she had always enjoyed sharing cocido with Rosita at the small wooden table in the vast airy kitchen, right now the idea of any kind of food just didn't appeal to her. She smiled apologetically at the housekeeper. "It does sound delicious but I may not be very hungry, even after I get back from the hospital."

  "Yes. You will be," Rosita announced, pinching Juliet's forearm appraisingly. Then she shook her head. "Too skinny."

  "You've always said I'm too skinny," Juliet protested, though she smiled affectionately. "If you had your way, you'd feed me until I popped out of all my clothes. But really, I'm no thinner now than I was before I—than I ever have been. So don't fuss over me." Bending down, she lifted her suitcase from the floor. "I think I'll go have a long bath."

  "Have strong coffee first," Rosita commanded, pointing toward the closed double doors of the sala. "Go sit in there; I bring it."

  "But I don't want any coffee. Really. I just want to…"

  "Go sit," Rosita repeated sternly.

  And because it was easier than arguing, Juliet went into the sala and sat. It was a mistake. Her uncle's favorite room evoked too many memories. Shifting restlessly on the sofa upholstered in dark blue brocade, she gazed pensively at the brass lamp on the round mahogany table beside her. It provided the only illumination in the large white-walled room and the far corners were shadowed. She smiled wistfully, remembering all the quiet summer evenings she and Uncle Will had shared in here, sometimes playing backgammon or games of poker that were supposedly lessons but which usually disintegrated into hilarious defeats for her. Her logical feminine mind had refused to accept the fact that four of a kind beat a full house.

  Those companionable times had ended last year, however. When the Valaquez men had entered their lives, she had been interested in the wrong one while Uncle Will had suddenly decided to climb society's ladder by marrying her off to Pablo. While she had tried to explain to him that she couldn't marry Pablo, he had insisted she was being unduly apprehensive about such a marriage. And considering his advancing years and the debt she owed him, Juliet had been unwilling to allow their disagreement to deteriorate into a bitter battle of wills. Fearing they might lose all the closeness they had shared if they continued to argue, she had decided retreat was in order. So she had left Granada with Benny, as much for her uncle's sake as her own.

  The sound of the sala doors opening roused Juliet from her disturbing memories. She sat up straighter on the sofa but as she turned, the smile she had meant for Rosita faded abruptly from her lips. Heat suffused her cheeks. Her hands began to tremble. Her amber eyes widened with surprise as her heart seemed to lurch against her breastbone, then plunge down to her stomach. She couldn't quite catch her breath. It wasn't Rosita who was walking into the sala. It was Raul Valaquez and the expression on his angular face made Juliet realize that if he had owned a dungeon, he would have gladly tossed her in it.

  Chapter Two

  Every muscle in Juliet's bo
dy seemed paralyzed. Raul walked into the circle of lamplight, stopping only a few feet from the sofa where she sat, unable to move.

  "Well, Juliet," he murmured tonelessly. "This is something of a surprise."

  She could only stare at him. In her thoughts during the past months, he had become a nebulous being, almost unreal. Now that he was within touching distance and she had heard the deep timber of his voice again, she was disconcerted by the conflicting emotions rising in her. She had nearly forgotten exactly how tall and muscularly lean he was and how overwhelmingly masculine. Her body traitorously responded to the reality of him, her senses reawakening to the vital aura of male magnetism that had always intrigued her. Though she berated herself for being so aware of him, she couldn't help noticing how his dark vested suit subtly defined broad powerful shoulders, tapered waist and lean hips. The muscular lineation of his long legs was accentuated as he widened his stance, flicked back the sides of his unbuttoned coat, and placed lean brown hands on his hips, his long fingers slipping inside his trouser pockets, as he assumed a posture that was at the very least intimidating, if not downright threatening.

  Subjected to his relentless stare, Juliet felt rather like a germ under a microscope and swallowed convulsively. He looked the same, yet different somehow. The chiseled features of his dark aristocratic face were unchanged, except perhaps for a tauter set of his strong jaw. Yet, as Juliet stared silently at him, she began to recognize an unfamiliar iciness in his green eyes, eyes that had never failed to fascinate her. Dark jade, they commanded attention because they were set in such a bronzed, obviously Spanish face and should have been black or at least brown. But Pablo had once explained Raul owed their unusual color to the bride of Rafael Valaquez, the family's eighteenth century black sheep, supposedly a pirate who kidnapped a green-eyed Englishwoman, with whom he subsequently fell in love and married. Juliet had suspected this story was more family fiction than fact but now, impaled by Raul's piercingly cold green eyes, she could believe one of his ancestors had been a ruthless pirate. His merciless appraisal of her conveyed no hint of the tenderly amused indulgence she had become accustomed to last year.

  Looking up at him, she could scarcely breathe. Then, when two long strides brought him to the sofa and he stood towering over her, it took all her courage not to shrink back against the cushion. Why was he here? And why did he look so furious? Though she had expected him to be displeased with her, she hadn't imagined he would be this angry because she hadn't wanted to marry Pablo. After all, his grandmother had never been thrilled with having an American girl as a prospective granddaughter-in-law. So why was Raul looking at her as if she had committed an unpardonable sin?

  Rose color bloomed in her cheeks as he continued to stare down at her, those magnificent eyes icy, yet conveying a vague resentment. At last, she could withstand his intense scrutiny no longer. Jumping to her feet, she walked jerkily across the room but Raul followed, stopping so close behind her that his warm breath stirred a tendril of her hair as he spoke, "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

  Juliet spun around, stilling her trembling hands by clenching them into fists at her sides. Her heart was beginning to thud quite violently as she took a step backward, intimidated by his very size and far too aware of the fresh familiar lime scent of after shave that emanated faintly from him. To avoid looking directly at him, she instead riveted her gaze on the strong smooth column of his neck, noticing how the crisp white collar of his shirt accentuated his mahogany skin. She felt rather stupid, just standing there staring at the pulse beating strongly in his throat but she was totally unable to answer his question, having no idea what it even meant.

  After what seemed an eternity of dreadful silence, Raul reached out as if he meant to touch her but he let his hand drop to his side again. "Juliet," he muttered brusquely, "I want an explanation."

  She gestured nervously. "Explanation of what?"

  "Everything," he retorted obliquely. "You might start by explaining why you've come home now, after all this time."

  The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her dry lips and because she forced herself to look directly at him, her voice was embarrassingly shaky when she answered at last. "I've come t—to see Uncle Will, of course. I read about his accident."

  A sardonic smile curved Raul's lips and added a ruthlessness to his finely chiseled features. "Since you've shown so little concern for Will in the past eleven months, I'm surprised even his accident brought you back here. But that's not the only explanation I want—I want to know why you ran away in the first place. You obviously decided you didn't want to marry Pablo, but wouldn't it have been more mature of you to tell him that, instead of sneaking away without a word to him and with only a brief note to Will? That was a childish way to solve your problem, Juliet. I know you were only twenty but I'd always assumed you had some regard for other people's feelings. I certainly was wrong. You were so eager to run off with your third-rate rock singer you didn't even have the decency to talk to Pablo. What a disappointment you turned out to be."

  Unprepared for this unjustified attack, Juliet took a sharp breath, her cheeks paling, then flaming scarlet as angry resentment erupted. He really had some nerve! How dare he stand there and act as if this situation had been her fault. She hadn't owed Pablo any explanation for leaving. She had never been romantically interested in him nor wanted to even consider marrying him and she had told him so as gently as possible countless times. But Pablo had insistently pursued her and elicited the support of both her uncle and Raul and now she was being blamed for the whole foolish mess! Her amber eyes glittered as she glared at Raul, wanting badly to tell him his family's ideas about marriage were archaic and ridiculous. But the expression on his face kept her silent. She was indignant, not suicidal, and besides, knowing how extremely close-knit Spanish families were, she didn't imagine Raul would listen if she tried to tell him Pablo had simply pushed her too far.

  Tilting her small chin up, she gave him what she hoped seemed a cool unconcerned smile instead. "I'm sorry you're disappointed in me. But maybe you're right. I guess I was too young last year to think of marriage."

  "I guess you were," he responded tautly, a muscle ticking with fascinating regularity in his clenched jaw. "But immature or not, you should have had the decency to tell Pablo you didn't want to marry him. He thought you were very serious about him. Even our grandmother assumed you were because you went out with him without a duenna."

  "A duenna! Good grief, I thought chaperones were passé these days, even in Spain," Juliet answered flatly. "Besides, I'm sure your grandmother wasn't heartbroken when I left. She would never have approved of Pablo marrying me."

  "She told you that?" Raul questioned, a deep frown marring his brow. "She actually said she didn't approve of you?"

  Juliet shrugged. "Well, she didn't actually come right out and say that but I got the message. It was obvious from all the disapproving glances and all the little hints that she dropped that she would much rather see Pablo marry a little señorita from another fine old Spanish family. You know, she wanted him to marry an aristocrat, not a little commoner like me."

  For an instant, a strange light appeared in Raul's narrowed eyes but the coldness returned almost immediately. "If my grandmother made you feel unwanted, I apologize. But her behavior certainly doesn't excuse your own. If you cared about no one else, you should have cared about Will. He was very upset and worried about you when he got up that morning and found you gone. And it's been embarrassing for him to have all his friends know you ran away. In Spain, young women show a great deal more respect to the elder men in their families."

  "Well, well, now I begin to see why you're so angry," she rejoined, smiling up at him much more tauntingly than she meant to. "You think a mere female like me shouldn't have dared defy a male, even if he was trying to control my life, don't you? I guess that's why you're looking at me as if you could kill me—I actually had the nerve to show disrespect for a man. Me! A mere female! Really,
I thought all those years you lived in England might have rid you of the old-fashioned sexist notion that men must be lords and masters and women must be their willing obedient slaves. Obviously, I was mistaken. You're still Spanish through and through. Well, I guess I should go down on my knees and beg forgiveness for bruising your precious male ego but maybe an apology will suffice. If I upset your antiquated ideals, then I am so terribly sorry."

  Juliet's defensive mockery elicited swift and ungentle retaliation. Raul's hand shot out, hard lean fingers clasping around her wrist. He muttered something in Spanish that needed no translation because his tone indicated quite clearly that his words were far from complimentary. "You really are a silly little girl, aren't you, Juliet?" His icy green eyes raked over her, conveying anger and obvious disdain. "I won't tolerate your disrespect so watch what you say to me. I've often thought during the past year that you needed a good spanking and if you persist in this little outburst of defiance, I might be very tempted to turn you over my knee."

  "You wouldn't dare hit me!" she gasped softly, dismayed that his mere threat made her legs weaken beneath her. "Y—you're bluffing."

  "Am I, Juliet?" he countered with a devilish smile. "Why don't you try me and see."

  Detecting the menacing glint in his eyes, Juliet had to wonder if he would carry out this threat if she pushed him too far. Impotent fury built in her and she tried to twist free of his iron-hard grip. As his lean fingers simply tightened, pressing down to the delicate bones of her wrist, she winced. Regret flickered in his dark face, then vanished almost before she recognized it, but his hold on her did ease. His fingers became caressing, brushing with evocative lightness over the frantically beating pulse. Now, his touch was electric, evoking a wicked warmth that spread through Juliet's limbs. To mask her reaction, she stiffened, only her wide eyes darting up to meet the enigmatic glimmer in his. "Let me go," she insisted. "You're hurting me."