Cordero's Forced Bride. Kate Walker

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 the contrary, you are more than welcome.’

      Was she fooling herself or had there been a deliberate emphasis on that you? Surely he couldn’t mean just her?

      ‘I am sure that you will want to help me get through this time that I should have been spending with my new bride.’

      Now that had very definitely been laced with something darker, more ominous, the hint of a threat that made her skin crawl in uncomfortable response.

      ‘I think not…’ Alexa tried but Santos ignored her and swept on as if she hadn’t even attempted to speak.

      ‘And I am sure that your stepmother would prefer to have somewhere to regain her composure before she has to face the paparazzi.’

      ‘The paparazzi?’

      She hadn’t thought about that. The truth was that she hadn’t been able to think beyond the actual delivery of her sister’s message. After that, her imagination hadn’t been able to stretch to consider the possibilities.

      ‘But of course.’

      This time Santos’s smile was pure ice; nothing charming or even pleasant about it at all. It was a smile that destroyed all the warmth that had filled her just moments before, leaving her feeling drained and lost and suddenly very fearful for the future, though for no reasons she could put her finger on.

      ‘You don’t think that they will let a scoop like this pass them by without comment? The wedding of the year turning into the non-event of the year. It will be just the sort of thing they’d love to report. And they’ll tear your family to pieces to get it.’

      The pale grey eyes slid to where Petra was still wailing her distress on the front pew, with Stanley struggling to soothe her but actually looking as pale and worried as his wife himself. Once more Alexa shivered as she felt that sensation like something cold and slimy crawling over her skin. She could just imagine how her stepmother would go to pieces in front of the cameras, the pictures that would appear in the gossip columns the next day.

      ‘And you could stop that?’

      ‘I have men employed to make sure that the Press don’t get too close. And I have a fleet of cars waiting to take everyone from the church to the reception.’

      Alexa nodded silently. She’d travelled to the church in one of those cars. Big, sleek limousines with smoked-glass windows that provided the occupants with efficient protection from the flash of camera lights, the prying lenses. And she’d seen the efficient security that had ringed the cathedral, making sure that no one who wasn’t on the guest list could get through.

      ‘Why would you do that—for us?’

      ‘Obviously I have my own reasons for not wanting the story of what has happened here today plastered all over the scandal sheets. Once inside my home, we can all relax.’

      Relax. The word had so much appeal to it. Alexa’s whole body was starting to ache as if she had been holding herself tense for so long that she had forgotten how it had felt to be any other way. Every muscle was tired and her head was starting to pound.

      ‘Then thank you. I’ll tell my father—get him and Petra into a car.’

      ‘No. Miguel will see to that.’

      One hand lifted in a silent signal to someone at the back of the church in the same moment that Santos moved once more to hold her back. But this time his powerful fingers laced with hers, closing tight over her hand as he restrained her. Alexa’s heart jumped painfully as she felt the warmth of his palm curve against hers, heating her blood and sending it pulsing up her arm towards her heart. Her fingers tingled, her skin felt scorched and her mouth seemed to dry suddenly in the heat so that she slicked her tongue over parched lips to ease the sensation.

      He had moved closer too and the scent of his body seemed to surround her like a warm mist, tangy with some light cologne overlaid by the muskier, more intimate aroma of his skin. Just inhaling it set all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifting in sensitive response, and her heart thudded even harder, forcing her to snatch in a swift, sharp, much needed breath of air.

      ‘You will come with me.’

      It was a command, not a suggestion. The tone of his voice said that he wouldn’t listen to any argument, and the way that his hold on her hand tightened meant that she could not pull away as he headed away from the altar, dragging her with him.

      She should be worried—probably even a bit frightened, Alexa admitted to herself as she trotted in his wake, trying to keep up with the long, powerful strides that took him down the aisle at a pace she couldn’t quite manage. And she was just a bit of both.

      But right at this moment, discretion very definitely seemed the better part of valour in this situation. Digging in her heels, refusing to move, would only cause another, bigger scene, and she had already had more than enough stress and emotional tension for one day.

      In one thing at least, Santos was right. With the paparazzi baying at the door of the church, they would soon suspect that something was wrong when they realised that the bride was not going to turn up, and then they were going to have a field day. The sooner everyone got out of here the better.

      The journey back to Santos’s elegant mansion would only take a few minutes, and once there she would be able to escape, lose herself in the crowd of guests, the force of his presence diluted by the presence of so many others.

      Surely the worst was over and things could only get easier from now on?

      CHAPTER THREE

      HAD SHE REALLY thought that things would get easier? Alexa asked herself a couple of hours later. The truth was that she really had no idea whether things were getting better—or so much worse.

      Restless and totally ill at ease, Alexa prowled around the huge blue and gold dining room in which the meal that was to have been part of the reception following Santos Cordero’s wedding had been served and where now a small army of his staff was clearing away the remains of the wonderful food.

      It had been delicious, at least, the one or two mouthfuls she had tried had been out of this world, but she had found it impossible to actually swallow more than a couple of bites. Her stomach had been churning so wildly, her head throbbing, and a feeling as if a hundred thousand butterflies were dancing along her veins had made it almost impossible to try and sit still.

      And matters had been made so much worse by the way that Santos had insisted that she sit beside him. Right next to him in the seat that should have been his bride’s place. Instead of which it had been his bride’s sister who had taken that seat, looking totally out of place in the unaccustomed finery of her bridesmaid’s dress, with her hair already starting to escape from the over-elaborate