The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

desperate.
    â€˜He’s ill, mentally ill. He didn’t know what he was doing.’
    â€˜Oh, come on, surely you can do better than that? Angus Beresford took advantage of his position and was systematically transferring money into false accounts for the last eighteen months. He knew exactly what he was doing,’ Javier told her scathingly. His hand closed around the door handle, but before he could open it Grace flung herself against the wood.
    â€˜He could see no other way. Please—give me five minutes of your time,’ she implored. ‘And let me try and explain his reasons for doing what he did.’ For a heart-stopping moment she thought Javier was going to drag her forcibly away from the door. His hand closed around her wrist in a bruising grip, but suddenly a sharp rap sounded from the other side of the door.
    â€˜What is it?’ he demanded tersely in his own language, unaware that Grace could understand the question or his servant’s reply that the police were waiting in the hall. She’d failed, she thought numbly. Her father’s solicitor had warned her that Angus faced a lengthy prison sentence and nothing could save him now. Suddenly she was bone-weary, and the tears that had hovered perilously close to the surface since her earlier terror in the garden slid silently down her cheeks.

CHAPTER THREE
    T RUST a woman to turn on the water works, Javier thought contemptuously as he stared at the twin rivulets of moisture trickling down Grace’s face. It never ceased to amaze him how the fairer sex was able to dissolve into tears whenever it suited.
    At thirty-five he lived life in the fast lane in every sense of the word—fast cars and even faster relationships, some of which didn’t even get off the starting block but made a pleasant diversion for a night or two. He’d seen it all—every devious twist of a woman’s mind as she’d sought to gain her own way. And for him, weeping was the biggest turn-off of them all.
    Why then did the sight of this woman’s tears make him feel as though a knife was twisting in his gut? Something about her huge, navy blue eyes brimming with tears was getting to him, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel uncomfortable, and the urge to pull her against his chest and thread his fingers through her mane of silky brown hair was downright ridiculous.
    He should dismiss her this minute, he told himself. He should hand her over to the police, and then sue her for trespassing on his land, so why was he hesitating? From the moment he had learned her identity his emotions had swung between fury and another, rather more basic urge that was no doubt responsible for the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
    Muttering an oath, he dropped his gaze to her mouth, noting the perfect curve of her Cupid’s bow and the fullness of her lower lip. Soft, pink and deliciously kissable, he acknowledged grimly, feeling his body’s unmistakable reaction.
    He favoured tall, elegant blondes with endlessly long legs and full breasts—even if most of the women he met sported the surgically enhanced variety, he thought cynically. Grace Beresford was small and slender, an unremarkable woman with her pale complexion and light brown hair with streaks of pale gold that were, he would lay money on it, entirely natural rather than due to the skill of a good colourist.
    She would never stand out in a crowd, and yet there was something about her face, an air of serenity. Perhaps it was the hidden message in her astonishing blue eyes, the hint of sensuality in the elusive smile she had offered him earlier that was responsible for the ache in his loins, he thought derisively. Whatever it was, it was hellishly inconvenient.
    â€˜You have two minutes,’ he said coldly, forcing himself to stroll nonchalantly over to the window. ‘Although I must warn you that I already have a good idea as to the reasons for your